The angry voice of Lord Marston still echoed in her mind as Tegan stumbled through the ankle-deep snow. The icy wind cut right through the thin, ragged cloak and stung the lashes on her back. She could feel the blood from them freezing to the remains of her blouse. 

"You're lucky I don't have you hanged, you worthless trollop! If I see you near here again, I will have it done, mark my words!"

The last face she'd seen was that of Jenny, who wore a smirk that told the whole truth. Jenny, one of the chamber maids for Lord Dane Marston, had gotten exactly what she wanted- the favor of Barron Marsten- by framing Tegan for stealing and selling a pocket watch. She had even been so bold as to dangle the watch chain teasingly from her palm before slamming the door of the manor house shut, leaving Tegan literally out in the cold.

The first snow had already fallen, and now a second layer was falling atop the inches already laying thick on the ground. Due to the hour, every place in the small town was shuttered; even the inn on the edge of town. Knowing nothing of the surrounding area, Tegan had decided that it was best to keep moving rather than stop somewhere and freeze to death. Somewhere along the way, however, the road seemed to have disappeared. Rather than a well-worn dirt road, Tegan found herself trudging through forests. Her bright red hair swirled out from under the hood of her cloak every time the wind blew, and she would have to push it out of the way with the fingers she could barely feel anymore. She was lost- no two ways about it. Somewhere, she'd have to find shelter, whether it was in a cave or an abandoned hut- anything would do. 

An owl screeched and came tearing out of nowhere, right at Tegan. She stumbled backward, ducking to avoid it, when the distinct sound of steel snapping cut the quiet of the forest. She realized she couldn't take a step before she felt the ripping pain in her ankle and screamed in agony. Something had her. She looked down, squinting against the darkness. It was a trap of some sort. Not big enough to be a bear trap, but enough that it had her entire foot ensnared and biting deep into her ankle. Shivering, she dropped to the ground and tried to force the jaws of the trap open- but her frozen fingers wouldn't cooperate. 

With no other ideas and a growing puddle of blood beneath her, she cried out into the darkness.

"Help me! Please!!"

For what seemed like an hour, she called, with nothing but the thundering wind replying.

"Help.....me...."

She had not made it that far, the snow impeding her progress as it had. Her cries were getting faint, as the wind tore the words from her mouth, nearly as soon as she uttered them. Just as she was about to give up, the sound of footfalls crunched in the swirling darkness. Her eyes now adjusted some to the low light could make out two shapes obviously bearing down on her helpless position, and her throat suddenly would dare not utter another sound, although every other part of her soul wanted to scream.

Her cry for help knotted in her throat as she heard the sound that made dreaded chills run down her already frozen body.

"Well, lookie what we have here."

Panic gripped her but as the two men closed the distance, she tore frantically at the trap, barely hearing the words that left their lips. They were not here to help her, of that she knew for sure.

"Aww darlin' don't be scared. We'll help ya, but we just wanna taste first."

The next few moments seemed to go by in slow motion. The nearest man, close enough for her to smell the cheep whiskey that lingered on his stale breath, reached his hand to grab her, but the motion was cut short by a whistle followed by a *THWACK*. He had barely started to crumple to his knees when a large form leaped from the night, lifting the second man easily into the air and throwing his body into a nearby tree, breaking his back on impact.

The large brute of a man just stood there as the snow from that tree fell across his broad shoulders, covering his long hair and the furs he wore, giving him a ghostly appearance.

Barely able to manage words above the chattering of her teeth, Tegan tried to scramble back, away from the man that towered over her. Sure, he'd just saved her from two extremely unsavory characters, but how could she be sure he wasn't just eliminating the competition? 

The freezing wind combined with the loss of blood was taking its toll, and she felt a dizziness underneath the shivering fear. 

"P-please...don't hurt me. I have no money...no jewelry."

The wind howled, and Tegan crumpled over, trying to shield herself from it. At this point, she could feel her consciousness starting to slip away. Maybe, if he killed her, it would be quicker than death by freezing. 

There was no time for words, and whether or not they would even help at this point was moot. He lifted the heavy fur from his shoulders and in a couple short strides, lowered it over the shivering girl. He settled to his knees in the cold snow, and barely making a sound, pulled the trap apart with his bare hands as if it were a mere child's toy. He rose to his feet once more, lifting her gently, fur and all, over his shoulder and trudged into the woods.

The heavy furs were already warm as they were wrapped around her. She could feel the heat against her skin, the sensation tugged at the edges of her waning consciousness. It wasn't until she felt the sharp pain tear up her leg that she even realized he'd removed the trap; with his bare hands no less. Tegan groaned softly, then felt herself being lifted from the ground. Just before she was overcome from the pain and exhaustion, she thought she caught a faint scent of burnt wood, like a camp fire, and leather. Her hand tried to grip his arm, but her body went limp before she could.

The soft firelight sent Declan's shadow looming against the tent as he ducked his way inside. There were no creature comforts here, but the one cot would have to suffice. He laid her slender body down and carefully tucked his furs around her. He was used to the cold, but not impervious to it, so he took a moment by the fire to warm himself before making his way back into the night to dispose of the bodies and reset his trap.

Upon his return, the firelight dimming, he shoved two more logs into the burning embers, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them for warmth. This would be a cold night for him, but he had weathered much worse. He laid back in the snow outside the tent, using his saddlebags for a pillow and pulled his long leather jacket firmly around him.

For a few moments before he drifted into a fitful sleep, his mind recalled the girls soft features, and her face was the last thing he remembered before slumber overcame him.

Several hours passed, though Tegan wouldn't have known just how many. At the point she went from unconsciousness to sleep, her dreams were fitful and frightening. She was back on the ship, crossing from England to the new world. A storm tossed the ship like a child's doll. Lightning cracked all around her, and just before it was crushed beneath a wave, her eyes flew open. 

Gasping, Tegan sat straight up, cringing at the sting of the lash marks on her back. She didn't recognize her surroundings, and she couldn't move her right foot at all. That's when things slowly began to come back. The fight with Jenny, the beating from Marston, the trap in the woods. And the man that saved her. Looking around again, she didn't see anyone in the tent. Tent? 

Again, she smelled the burning wood, and heard crackling. 

Pulling the furs up around her torn blouse, she cleared the heavy moisture from her throat and spoke out. 

"Hello? Is anyone there?" 

Between trying to stay warm, and keeping the fire fed all night, Declan had not gotten very much sleep. He was just returning from collecting more firewood when he heard a female voice pierce the near silence of the morning. He dropped the load of branches beside the fire, snapping one in two and laying them over the fire before turning his attention to the tent.

He was a man of few words except when they were needed, and conversation wasn't on the menu this morning. His night had been rougher than usual, and he was looking forward to things getting back to normal. He ducked into the tent and immediately flipped the furs away from her injured foot, noticing immediately a bit of bruising, but no broken skin. It would be tender and stiff for a while, but nothing a bit of rest couldn't handle.

He looked up and uttered the first words the poor girl had heard from him.

"Can you move?"  

In the full light of day , Tegan got her first real look at the man who had c saved her from an assuredly terrible demise. He was tall and built like a stone wall, with long hair and piercing eyes. At first glance, Tegan thought he might be one of the natives that lived near the town, but when he spoke so clearly, she wasn't so sure. 

"Can you move?" 

Uncertain, Tegan moved her hazel green eyes away from him and down to her foot. With considerable effort, she managed to flex her ankle in one direction, biting down on her lower lip to muffle a painful yelp.

Again, she looked back to him. The man looked as if he'd slept in the snow. Realizing she still had his furs around her shoulders, she shrugged them off and offered them back to him, forgetting about the nearly shredded blouse she was wearing. The garment was torn, exposing the alabaster skin of her shoulder and some of her front. The back of it was tattered and bloody, having been destroyed by the lord's whip. 

With a gentle, grateful tone and a discernable Scots accent, Tegan nodded toward the fur cloak. 

"Thank you...for helping me. I'm Tegan."

Declan was replaying the last nights events in his head while looking down at this frail creature before him. Even in torn rags, beaten and bruised, she was beautiful, and as his eyes scanned over her, he quickly saw that she needed the furs much more than he did. This posed a problem, as he was certainly not used to being responsible for anyone but himself.

This shelter was never meant for more than him, and certainly not for more than a night or two, passing through the area while checking his traps. Two missing men from the nearby fort and a runaway girl certainly only complicated matters. They would not stay here for long unnoticed.

He refused the furs she was offering back to him with a shrug.

"We can't stay here."

He reached inside his long jacket, pulling out a water-skin and a piece of dried meat, dropping both on the furs in front of her before the tent flap once again obscured her view of him.

"They call me Declan." She heard this almost as if he was muttering to himself, as if his name was nothing more than an afterthought.

Tegan's eyes widened. 

"Decl- Jesus, you're Declan Harp."

With some difficulty, but determination, the girl got to get feet, throwing the furs over her shoulder and taking a mouthful of the dried meat. Hobbling out of the tent, she chewed and some eagerly. 

"You're the one they said raided Fort Gleason back in the spring. But...you didn't. It was a band of Seneca. At least, that's what I heard the trappers saying."

Declan paused for a moment as he heard his full name. He was packing what he could into his saddlebags, but seeing the determination on this girl impressed him a bit. He threw an approving glance her way and got back to what he was doing.

"Can't believe everything you hear..."

He stepped out of sight behind some nearby trees for a moment, then came back into view leading a large nearly pure-white mustang. He proceeded to pull the saddle off, then tossed his saddlebags across the beautiful beast's blanket-covered rump. He led it closer to Tegan, kicking snow over the fire on his way, before resting his hands firmly on both sides of her hips and lifting her onto the front of the majestic creature with no more effort than he had just used on the saddlebags. He grabbed the reins with his right hand and swung up behind her, cradling her against his chest gently with his left arm as they started forward.

Marveling at the beautiful animal, Tegan reached up and gently stroked his nose and smiled before Declan sat her high on his shoulders. Something about the way Declan could so easily move her made her feel...safe? He was strong, no doubt. His rugged appearance was not only easy on the eyes, but the exotic look that came from his native heritage gave him an air of mystery and excitement. At least, that's how Tegan felt. Jenny, who was responsible for the fight that ultimately got Tegan whipped and thrown out, was back at the manor swooning over the soft-handed, nanny-raised, spoiled young Marsten. As Declan Harp pulled Tegan against him, she couldn't help but feel a bit smug. 

They rode for some time, keeping to the woods behind the treeline rather than the beaten path beside the river. It amazed Tegan how smoothly the horse could glide through the woods so effortlessly. Declan barely seemed to guide the reins at all. Unaccustomed to being on horseback, Tegan was tense at first- but as they rode on, she found herself relaxing a bit more. Occasionally, she would glance up to Declan. He was certainly a man of few words, but his voice was memorable. It reminded her of a soft, distance roll of thunder; powerful and alluring. 

Just as the sun began to peak in the sky, the horse made a left and breached the treeline. Near the bank of the river, Tegan could see a settlement. She perked up slightly, squinting against the glare. Indians. 

Wren Declan brought the horse to a stop, several men and two women approached and greeted him. They all spoke in a different language that Tegan had no hope of understanding, but she knew they were talking about her as they glanced at her a few times. Finally, Declan lifted her from the horse and carried her to a tent, one much larger than the shelter in the woods the night before. Wordlessly, he sat her on a bed of furs, then left a a group of women hurried him out. 

Three, maybe four hours passed. The women of the tribe were quiet, but they were kind and seemed eager to help. Tegan was cleaned up, her lash wounds dressed and covered with bandages. Her foot had rested in a bowl of cold water from the river, then was also bandaged tightly to help her walk. Finally, she was given a strong, bitter tea to drink and a filling meal of bread, roasted meat, and some potatoes. One of the younger women brought a new set of clothes for her and took away the torn ones. 

When Tegan emerged from the tent, she felt a hundred times better than she had when she arrived. Her torn blouse had been replaced with one much more simple, a deep red color that had only a few buttons and long sleeves. For the first time in her life , she wore trousers. They were black, and fit loosely making them very easy to move in. A knee-length leather coat with beautiful beaded detailing offered an extra layer of warmth, and her auburn hair had been brushed and braided in two lengths. 

She thanked the women profusely, though she wasn't sure that they understood her. They led her across the camp to a place where some of the men were talking in a circle around a fire. Declan was seated among them, and glanced up to her as they came near. Tegan smiled shyly to him. 

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