"Whoa, you might want to rest up, there," Micah said, alarmed. "Here - I'm almost done. But if you want to help, how about you take these bad boys…" He handed her the stick and the matches, and after a moment of thought, the sad lonely sock that was in his pack, too. "And try to get that fire going again? I could look and see if there's some crumpled up paper in my pockets or something that I'm missing. Does lint burn?"
He rounded off the top of their little makeshift den, thinning his lips as something occurred to him.
"I should investigate that gunshot from earlier," he mused.
"g-go a-ahead-d, and-d yes-s lint b-burn-ns." Fiona took the supplies that Micah had given her and giggled weakly, "i-ill get-t a fire-e going, y-you go-o se-e wh-hat that g-gun-nshot w-was." she shivered again and pulled her blanket farther around her before setting up the stick and the sock and lighting the match to get a small fire going.
Micah nodded, and half-smiled. "See you in a bit, partner. Stay warm." He pulled one of his pistols out, slung on his backpack, and clambered up the sides of the fort, back into the wind and snow and cold.
"Alright, Mikey Rolfe, you're a big boy," he told himself softly, getting to his feet and adjusting his hood. "Investigating a probable murder? Hey, no biggie. Missions like this are to die for."
He set off in the direction that he'd heard the noise, whistling and shouting and hoping someone nice answered.
David meanwhile was still passed out. Blood still slowly seeping out into the snow.
The snow itself was now a shade of salmon as the pool slowly gets bigger.
Meanwhile the gas lamp in his tent starts flickering as it’s fuel runs out.
Dean stumbled through the slush, AK-57 locked, loaded and ready to go. He continued in the direction of the gunshot.
You fucking idiot, what if it's a trap. He thought.
Thankfully the slush was already freezing over, meaning no more trudging along.
He continued, getting weird hot-flashes. The air grew hazy around him, and he steadied his gun.
Upon getting closer, he saw a light.
Was it fire.
He steadily and expertly crept closer, rolling his feet for silence, and sticking out his elbows for balance and to steady his gun.
"Hey!" He exclaimed to two figures by what was indeed a fire.
His rifle didn't waver. He meant them no harm, but he wanted to guarantee his own safety.
Fiona sat close to the fire, and took in the heat, she thought about the past few minutes and hoped Micah wouldn't get hurt. Wow, you are worried about a guy you don't know, and who you just met she thought to herself and smiled, Micah was pretty nice…
David didn’t respond to the call due to still being unconscious.
The tent was, in hindsight, kind of hard to miss, and Micah took a moment to wonder how in the heck he'd missed it.
"Nice one, Mikey, super detective skills," he said aloud.
Then he got close enough to see the body, and he felt even stupider. Micah laughed at the absurdity of the situation, a little hysterically.
"Ohhhkay, now we have a dying guy. This is a grave situation for sure."
First-aid kit now, his voice of reason said, pun later. He reached for the kit and went to check the man's pulse.
(Casually slides pun in. Nice.)
(Why thank you.)
Micah awkwardly pushed the dead wolf to the side with the toe of his boot, making a mental note to save it for meat and clothing. As someone who was only basically trained in medical procedure, he chewed on his lip a bit as he decided what to do.
That decision was to slap the unconscious man.
"Hey! Wake up, please!"
David didn’t respond to the slap.
(It’s me Conner! I am the android sent by CyberLife!)
He continues to remain unconscious and bleeding from the claw wound on his chest.
Dean out his gun away approaching the tent, and looking inside.
"You know what kind of state he's in?"
Fiona wondered how Micah was doing and grabbed her gun, just to be safe she thought and continued to sit by the fire, ready to take a nap now that she had food and warmth.
Micah yelped at the new voice - "Oh, hell. I didn't see you there, man. Stranger. Bud." How long had that guy even been there? He was really not cut out for observational work of any kind, was he?
He cleared his throat, standing. "There's, uh, there's a pretty bad chest wound there. That dude" - he gestured at the wolf lying slack in the snow - "did a number on him."
David’s breathing starts slowing.
His lips turning a shade of blue-gray.
"I think I know what to do." Dean said. "Anyone have guaze?" He asked, his voice becoming slightly brilly.
Fiona laid down next to the fire and closed her eyes just going to sleep for a minute.. she thought, and was soon fast asleep.
"Oh, man, oh, man." Micah gripped the dying man's jacket and unzipped it to get at the wound, already opening the first aid kit and grabbing a roll of bandages and the flask of straight vodka he'd stuffed in days before.
"Alright, if I kill you, you're so welcome to haunt me," he said, and got to work cleaning and bandaging the wound.
"Please take the lead here, man," Micah told the other guy, scooting back. "I'm blanking on all the steps."
(Best quote ever XD “If I kill you, you’re welcome to haunt me.”)
"Can do…" Dean said , stepping in.
He rolled up his pants let and took a loose fiber from his sock.
"Soak this in vodka!" He said , ripping a piece of the collar of his shirt off, and pressing it to the wound.
David regains semi-consciousness And is unsure of what was happening.
"You got it, bossman," Micah replied, pouring the alcohol on the piece of shirt. "Just in case though, you realize that it is actually really freaking freezing… right?"
Fiona continued to sleep peacefully and pulled her blanket around herself to keep even warmer.
David fully regains consciousness and he is very confused at what he was seeing.
He feels like his chest was on fire though.
He can only manag to get “Das tut weh.” (That hurts.) before he groans and stares off into the sky.
"Dat's… what? Yeah, me too, man." Micah cleaned the wound with the vodka-soaked cloth, smiling warily down at the now-conscious man. "Good to see you talking. Is that Icelandic? German? Or is your accent that heavy?"
Dean warms both the shirt and sock, holding them a safe distance above the fire.
He then takes the aglets of his boots, forming one into a sewing needle.
"You got any tweezers in that kit?"
David groans and listens to the man speaking English.
He wishes he could speak it but he was always too lazy to ever bother learning it.
He just looks at Micah but isn’t able to say anything because of the pain.
"As a matter of fact, Bear Grylls, I think I do." Micah rummaged around in the kit for a minute, grinning triumphantly when he found them. "Here you go, one tweezer. One tweezers? A single tweezer, just for you." He handed it over with a flourish.
