Kol
Their shelter had been compromised.
“This is not good,” Penny said.
Indeed. The wind had driven snowdrifts over into the house above. Already damaged, the snow shifted through the floorboards. Water from melting snow would ruin their encampment. He could clear the snow but he would need to cover the floorboards with an impervious material.
Kol scanned their meager pile of supplies for a solution but Penny was already one step ahead of him. She held up the tarp, the same one she’d used to drag him to their shelter. “I need your help,” she said. “I know you don’t like the cold but this will go faster with two.”
“Agreed.”
As Penny donned her coat and gloves, she rattled off her plan to cover the leaking floorboards with the tarp and hold it down with heavy items scavenged from the house. She repeated the phrase “cast irons pans”, so the item must be vital to her strategy. The plan was simple: clear snow, cover, and secure with weights. After the storm, they would need to make permanent repairs, but this would suffice as a temporary measure.
“Ready? The faster we’re done, the faster we can sip hot cocoa,” she said, climbing steps.
“Pen-knee, wait.” He grabbed her elbow to pull her back. “We must discuss the rules of conduct on the battlefield.”
“This is my house, not a battlefield—”
Kol placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. He enjoyed the look of his digit against her soft, plump lips, and yearned to strip off his gloves to feel the heat of her breath against his skin.
“I listened to your plan and now you will listen to me.”
“You’re not my commander,” she breathed.
A grin tugged at his lips. He had always been drawn to a female with a strong will and the ability to take decisive action under pressure. She was made to command and he would follow her across the stars if needed. Given her poor reaction when he’d stated his intention to claim her, he said nothing. He needed to prove himself; he understood this.
“In this situation, I am,” he said. “I will take the lead. I cannot take the communicator with me so I need you to be aware of my direction.”
“We’re just putting a tarp down,” she grumbled.
“And if we are not alone? If I order you back inside?”
“Fine. Point and grunt. I’ll get the picture.”
“Do not risk yourself. Swear to me. I could not bear it if you were injured.” He cradled her head with his hands and searched her eyes for her intentions. He was not a medic, she only had a small medical supply kit, and Terran medicine was primitive at best.
“Okay, okay.” Penny broke his gaze. “You’re in charge for this mission. Happy, Big Red?”
He chuffed with affirmation. Initially he had not appreciated her nickname for him, but he had grown fond of the moniker.
Leading the way, he climbed the stairs, each step growing colder. Penny pressed against his back, pleasing him. His empty hands felt wrong. All his weapons were lost and now he faced the unknown, void of any tool to defend his mate beyond his brawn.
The basement door swung open and the frigid air slapped him in the face. It slithered between the joints in this armor, chilling his flesh. The wind increased in pitch. Below ground in the basement, they were spared the worst. Now he could feel the house shake with each fierce gust. Wind-driven snow filled the room.
He stood in the doorway of the food prep room of the building. Holding an arm out, he blocked Penny in the doorway while he scanned for threats. Natural daylight was diminished due to the storm, but he could make out the counter and cabinets. A light layer of powdery snow covered everything. The room was empty.
He moved to allow Penny access to the room. She gasped. His gaze followed hers to the set of boot prints in the snow.
They were not alone.
The boot prints circled the room, as if the person searched for something. For someone. Kol tracked the path, judging the spot where the interloper paused, perhaps to listen. He and Penny had not exactly been quiet in the last few days, but the wind would have covered their casual conversation.
Penny grabbed his arm and pointed, shouting. The woolen scarf covered her lower face, exposing only her worried eyes. The wind picked up in intensity, masking what Penny tried to communicate. She pointed through the doorway to a far window. A large tree swayed in the wind, but he could see nothing out of the ordinary. The groan of wood was all the warning given.
Glass shattered and wood splintered.
Kol pushed Penny to the floor, covering her with himself. If they were under attack, his damaged armor would be able to absorb some fire. If the armor failed, it was better for him to be hit than Penny. Terrans were too fragile and his was precious. Debris pelted his back, dust and wood enveloped them. Penny wiggled underneath him, protesting.
“Stay down. You swore to obey my command,” he growled.
She stilled at his words. Not his words, he knew, but his tone. He frightened her.
Kol waited for the volley of fire that never came. The wind somehow increased in volume, like a damned creature, and now it was in the building properly. It swirled around them, piercing his armor with a frigid spike in a way that ordinary ammunition could not. Snow, no longer blown in through the damaged wall, now fell freely from the sky.
That was not correct.
Penny’s gloved hand thumped against his shoulder, trying to get his attention. White plaster dusted her knit cap and her hair. “It’s okay. It was the tree,” she said. “The raid damaged it and it was only a matter of time before it fell.”
Kol scrambled off Penny and helped her to her feet. Chunks of plaster slid off his back and shoulders. “Are you injured?” His words were meaningless to her, but his hands skimming her arms and face conveyed his intentions.
“I’m fine. Someone thinks fast on his feet,” Penny said, tone flat and without humor. She adjusted her scarf to cover her mouth and nose.
He observed her motions, searching for any falsehood in her statement with a painful tell in the way she stood, if she favored a foot or pulled a muscle. His form was not insignificant and he’d pushed her to the floor at full strength. Her movements were not stiff or hesitant. Instead her eyes hardened with determination.
Snow fell rapidly, coating the interior of the ruined house. The droplets of melting flakes clung to Penny’s curls.
“I do not like it when you are serious,” he said at length. Penny without humor was Penny without hope and that was unacceptable.
“Whatever you say, Big Red,” she murmured, eyes fixed on the hole in the roof.