But For The Grace Of God

He no longer felt any part of his body. The sting of the bitter cold, which he had cursed and fought for days, was gone and in its place was numbness. He was exhausted, feverish and just wanted to lie down for a while, just to take a short nap. “Yes, just a brief nap, that would feel nice.” Laying in the snow his eyes started to close and he put his head down on his arm. From somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind an alert went off, like the claxon of a submarine, jolting him back to consciousness. He remembered his outdoor training learned early as a child and honed by the army and years of experience. He knew he couldn’t sleep or it would rob him of the little life he had left. He also knew he couldn’t survive another night without shelter. From the edge of the small woods, in the rapidly fading light of late afternoon, he watched the woman. She walked from a dilapidated farmhouse toward a makeshift structure, which passed for a barn, like someone who had long ago ceased to care about life. He was reminded of an animal that had been hunted to exhaustion and finally gave up and accepted whatever fate held in store. Her clothing and scarf made it difficult for him to determine her age. She plodded along carrying a small wooden bucket. Using the few scrub trees and shrubs, he began creeping, dragging his legs, assuming they were still attached. He slowly, methodically, approached the structure. He crept closer to the woman who only concentrated on the mere act of walking, slowly putting one foot in front of the other. He was now close enough to see that she was young and underneath the loose, ill fitting thin garments, much too flimsy for winter, had a shapely figure. He stopped and eyed her for a few moments noticing the wisps of blond hair protruding from under her kerchief.