My feet crack the sheet of crystal sparkling over the soft snow and I sink down until my knees are covered with every step. Giving the sled a huge tug, I pull the unconscious girl to the edge of the porch stairs before I bolt up them to the front door of the cabin.

Of course, it’s locked. I fight my instinct to run at the door like a bull at a matador’s red flag. It won’t help keep either of us warm if I knock this thing off the hinges.

I doubt an old, rickety shack like this has any kind of alarm system, but if it does, tearing the door off would definitely set it off. Not that alerting the authorities wouldn’t be a good thing.

At least in theory.

Clearly, any girl who would run into the snowy woods at night in a bikini and fur coat needs help. That’s a job for the police if I’ve ever heard of one.

Then the media would pounce on the story like a pack of ravenous wolves. A shiver that has nothing to do with the frosty air runs down my spine. I can just see the headlines now. The online discussions. The distorted lies and twisted fantasies of man-children with no life experience turning my attempt to rescue this girl into something dark. Something sinister.

My eyes scan the area for a telltale rock or sculpture hiding a key beneath it. However, this place isn’t a quaint little countryside cottage that a family lovingly comes to visit every summer. This is a run down, likely abandoned, hunting camp that no amount of handy work or flattering pictures could improve. I try to open the window to the left of the door, but it won’t budge. It’s either frozen shut or locked.

I remember when I was a kid, shopping with my mother at the grocery store for the few things she couldn’t pick up at her favorite markets, the magazines and news rags would always catch my eye at the checkout line. Weekly World News with it’s ridiculous headlines about ‘Bat Boy’ or aliens would make me roll my eyes and ignite my imagination at the same time. I always knew that the supposed scoops were bullshit. Everyone did. Yet, it stayed in business. People bought it.

Now, you don’t have to go to your grocery store to find phony news. It’s on every Facebook page. It’s mixed in with your actual news, making it impossible to distinguish from the rest of the craziness in this world.

My eyes come back into focus and I let my death grip on the edge of the window relax. Let it go. I remind myself as I draw a deep breath into my lungs. Right now, the only thing I need to worry about is the young woman on my toboggan who is going to freeze to death if I don’t help her. The rest of that shit, hell, the rest of the world, doesn’t matter right now.

I try the window on the other side of the door and it has some give in it. With a lot of pushing and maneuvering, I manage to slide it open and crawl inside. I don’t bother to look around, there will be time to take the grand tour later. From the size of this place, I’m guessing it will take all of two seconds to get acquainted. Instead, I unbolt the door, jump down the porch stairs and lift the strange woman over my shoulder.

Kicking the door shut behind me, I lay her on the dirty floor and pull my gloves off with my teeth, spitting them to the side. I lift her hand and check her fingers, they’re waxy and white. Not a good sign.

I place my hand under her nose and feel her soft breath barely blow over my skin.

Opening her large fur coat, I scowl at her insane choice of clothes. The complex crystal coating of ice over her creamy breasts and bikini top tell me that the swimwear has to go. I pull the string tied up around the back of her neck and reach behind her back, freeing her from the other loose knot. I clutch the cloth in my hand and it crackles as the ice breaks under my grip.

I can’t for the life of me figure out why anyone would leave dressed like this. She must have been in danger. I would guess she fled for her life, choosing a possible death in the woods over a certain death that she faced. There’s no other logical explanation.

I force myself to look away from her perky tits. Two little mountains begging to be claimed by the exploring lips of a man. Instead, I focus on her blue lips. Full, pouty and smeared with some kind of shimmering gloss, but still blue.

Two fingers on the side of her neck tell me her pulse is as weak as her breathing. She’s hypothermic, there’s no doubt in my mind. The boozy smell escaping her pores tells me of her drinking. However, I have no way of knowing if she’s passed out from the alcohol or from the bitter cold. I’m no doctor. All I can do is try to warm her up the best way I know how.

Standing up, I strip off my outer layers, shaking off my parka and lying it over the unconscious girl. I kick my boots off, sending them across the dark room and peel down my pants, stiff with ice next. Soon, my clothes are a pile on the floor and I’m shivering, naked standing over a beautiful and strange woman.

This isn’t how I wanted this trip to go. She might be stunning, but she can’t be too smart running off in the state she did. Besides, I’ve always preferred my companions to be conscious and enthusiastic about my nudity. Not in medical need of my warm skin for their survival.

Lying down on her open coat next to her, I make quick work of removing her bottoms, tossing them on the towering pile of fabric next to me. I dart my eyes away from her barely-covered pussy. The dark hair between her legs hardly a shadow covering her mound.

Instead, I pull her into me, lying her head on my chest and grab the edge of my parka, pulling it over us like a blanket. Once we’re both fully covered, I wrap my arms around her tucking her freezing hands into my armpits and pressing the ice blocks she has for feet between my thighs.

I need to warm her slowly. If you thaw a person with hypothermia too quickly it can stop their heart. This is the best way I know how to do that. Skin-to-skin contact will bring up her body temperature at a safe rate.

Once she warms up, I’ll make a fire. Hopefully she wakes up and doesn’t have any permanent damage from this. I look over her shoulder and see there’s wood piled next to the crumbling fireplace. Thankfully I won’t have to try to gather some out in the snow.

I pull her in tight, trying to give her the warmth I haven’t shared with any woman in years. Trying to give her the warmth she desperately needs to stay alive.

In the meantime, I focus on her breathing. On her heart beating next to mine. I try not to think about how her hair smells like fresh strawberries in the summer sun. I push it from my mind. All I care about is getting her warm, getting her conscious, and getting her on her way.

Nothing else.