Shredder XXV
The secluded deadfall was braced strategically upon a jutting mound of earth. Hidden from direct sight but well within earshot of a typical approach, Gerard had set to working his exposed companion into a state of relative comfort. The routine suited his state of mind. He had on any number of occasions performed similar search and rescue operations for lost hunting groups or travelers within his assigned zones. The rhythms of camping, of creating a hospitable environment to ward off the natural dangers, was a soothing ritual that he unconsciously embraced.
A small, warming fire saturated the enclosed hollow, and the Halfling had covered the well proportioned stranger with a host of boughs in addition to his bedroll and other fabrics he could spare. Her color had begun to pink while he tended the thin stew which bubbled with hearty promise. He would have liked some sage to compliment the flavors at hand. That was the thought which crossed his mind before his charge regained consciousness and went berserk.
The woman did not awaken as Gerard expected, with a flutter of eyelids and drowsy mumblings. No. Such was not her way apparently. The stranger’s eyes just snapped open. The ranger was positive he actually heard the flesh of her eyelids click with the suddenness, but he was diving for his life before his mental faculties could complete that particular train of thought. She whirled to her feet with a shriek and finished her stance in a poised crouch with a length of stick poised for attack.
“Who are you?!” she shouted, “What have you done?”
Gerard gaped from his own defensive posture. Her reflexes were beyond his reckoning. For a moment he was certain her form actually blurred. She was not blurred now though, and her taut, naked form danced in the firelight.