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Tisha smiled and nodded. "I know you were, Marco." She giggled suddenly, then said, "I think I need to teach you to ride in my mother's people's way. Bareback, with just your legs to hold you on, and giving your horse the freedom to go where it wants." Her eyes twinkled as she spoke. "The wind in your hair... ok, my hair, your fur, you know what I mean." She was trying to take her mind off yesterday's events and the chill that had washed over her at the thought of sleeping away from Marco.

He pulled out of his thoughtful gaze, and smiled back at her, laughing when she giggled, though he didn't know why at first. Just hearing the happy sound was enough to lift his spirits. He evidently had depths too, ones that he didn't care to look into right now, ones that maybe she could learn of sometime. He was certainly mysterious to a point. He nodded, "I would like to learn to ride that way. It could prove useful, especially if we found ourselves without saddles at any point." He licked his lips, laughing again, "I do know what you mean though."

She nodded and gently squeezed her legs together enough to start Snowflake trotting, knowing Brute would keep up with her. They had a distance to travel to keep up, and there was no way they wanted to be left out to sleep on the ground again tonight. Looking over at Marco, she nodded again.

"It's more than just useful. It helps develop a bond between rider and horse. You let go of the control to the horse, letting him choose the path, trusting that he's not going to let you get hurt. This makes it easier on the horse when you have to have the control. Brute is too much my father's horse to rebel against the control you have now, but he doesn't really know you. Riding bareback lets him get to know you."

He listened to her words, knowing that she knew much more about riding horses and it would be wise for him to take it all in. He licked his chops and nodded, "Well, then I'll have to start practicing bareback after we get up to the house." He smiled at her, thinking of the other uses of the word 'bareback' and chuckling. "So, does anyone live up where we're going? Or does the place sit vacant when your family isn't up there?"

"Sometimes," was her vague reply, her eyes twinkling as she looked over at him. "As I said, my father's family owned the house and land. My mother's family was brought from a reservation to live a lifestyle closer to what they were used to, and they got paid for it. Over the years, many of my mother's people married my father's family, strengthening the ties between the whites that owned the land and the natives who worked the land and tended the horses."

"Every so often, my mother's people show up at the cabin and see how my brothers and I are progressing with our studies in Native American history and the languages and riding and so much more within the culture." She bit her lip, not wanting to dwell on the unknown circumstances of her family. She had to get them to the cabin first. Then she'd have her meltdown, or mourn in the way of her mother's people. Steeling herself, she continued, "If there's no one there, there will be tell tale signs, just as there will be if someone is there."

The husky's head bobbed as he nodded to her words, "Right, well, I guess we'll just have to see when we get up there." he said, smiling softly at her to try and keep her mind off of everything. They rode on in silence for a while then, the sun rising and beating down even though the air remained chilly for the most part. The day wore on, with them scarcely seeing another living thing, though Marco and Tisha did both bring down another rabbit each, tieing them off to the horses and continuing on.

It was getting on toward evening, nearly dark, when they came to the top of a ridge and below there was a valley. In the gathering gloom he could make out the shape of a central home and several smaller buildings, "That it?"

Tisha smiled as she looked down on the cabin. "That's it." Looking down on the cabin and the other buildings, she let out a piercing hawk cry, followed by a shriller one. She settled down in her saddle as she waited for a return call. The first one was answered by the sight of a large bird lifting off from the roof of the house, then winging its way towards the two of them, but the second call was left unanswered.

She switched the reins to her crossbow hand and lifted her free arm and the large bird landed lightly on her arm. After wrapping the reins around her saddlehorn, she lifted her other hand and stroked the bird's chest. Looking to Marco, she grinned. "This is Ceta," she said, pronouncing the name Chay-dahn. "His name is Lakota for what he is. He tends to stay close to the cabin, whether or not we're in residence here. But the second call was to see if any of my mother's people were here."

Marco watched the bird come to land on her arm and he smiled, "Ceta...nice name, and a beautiful bird. So I take it that means that none of your mother's people are here in the valley right now... " His sharp eyes picked out the buildings easily, and he could see absolutely no movement there below them. "Let's head down if you think it's safe. I think we should be there before it gets pitch black out here."

Tisha nodded, then gave a soft chirping sound before looking at Marco. "Can you dig out a strip of jerky and give him a piece? I can't get to mine right now." She gave a nudge to Snowflake, letting the mare know to start down to the cabin, her body moving with every step of her mare. Snowflake and Brute were both eager to race down to the house, and only the fact that Tisha was leaning back just enough to keep Snowflake from taking off kept her at a trot, at least until Ceta lifted off her arm.

The path was well defined over the years of horses and wagons coming to and from the cabin, and the minute she could, she shifted her weight forward, giving a signal to Snowflake to take off. The other two mares picked up their pace along with Snowflake, the three horses galloping the rest of the way to the cabin.

Within moments of him giving the bird a strip of his jerky, the animal took to wing and he let Brute follow Snowflake and Tisha down the hill to the road up to the gate. It was a much more defined path up here, and it looked like it had been used many times. They skidded to a halt a short distance from the house and barn, and after they came to a complete stop, Marco hopped down from the horse, "Alright, do we put the horses in the barn?"

Tisha nodded. "The barn is usually the best place," she said, chuckling. "These five know their stalls and while they stand outside their stalls, we can unsaddle and rub them down before letting them in. Plus we can get water and oats into their stalls. Just untie the gelding from Brute first, then let them find their stalls. It will help when you take them out so you can remember them."

She slid from Snowflake's back and easily untied the two mares from her saddle, letting the white mare go to her stall, then untied the last one from the middle one, and let the two of them go to theirs. Looking into the stalls as she removed bags and saddles, she noted that fresh hay was on the floor, and water, looking rather fresh, was in the buckets. "Looks like my mother's family left not too long ago, since the water and straw are fresh. We'll just have to get their oats to them."

He did as she suggested, untying the gelding from his saddle and letting it head into the barn, following as he let Brute head in as well. Once the horses were inside, he took off the bags on his two horses, unsaddled Brute, and went about rubbing him down with a brush. Once that was completed, he let the horses in, and went to retrieve the portion of oats they had packed for both animals, feeding them. By this time he saw that Tisha was done as well.

He hefted the bags that had been on his own horses, and shouldered them, "Let's get inside, eh?"

Tisha grabbed her backpack and hefted the other bags onto her left shoulder, keeping her right arm free, since the crossbow was attached to it, and just in case anything went wrong, she wanted to have the crossbow on the ready. She lead the way to the back door of the main house, and opened it, going to the old wood-burning stove first. Setting down her bags, she opened the door and peered inside.

"They knew. Somehow, they knew what was coming and got the house prepared," she murmured, digging into the cooking bag and pulling out the matches, and striking one on the outside before putting it into the stove and starting the fire going before sitting back for a moment. She didn't know if she even had time yet to relax and get things situated before having that talk with Marco that the two of them had been putting off.

Marco followed her, his crossbow on his arm still, the rest of the bags over the other shoulder. He walked behind her silently, and set his bags down as well when she did, then followed her into the house. It was a bit ominous, but that could have been because he didn't know the place, and it was dark. He remained close to her, until they reached the kitchen, at which point he stayed in the doorway. "What do you mean?" he asked softly, glancing at her. "They have the fire ready to light? How often do they come here...just so that I don't shoot the wrong person if they show up unexpectedly."

Tisha laughed softly, looking up at the handsome husky in the shadowy light given off by the stove. "My grandfather lives a nomadic life, and he knows we come every summer. So he would have had the house set up before we arrived, but he wouldn't have known about the power outage, unless someone else got in touch with him, or another member of the tribe. They normally stop by at least once or twice during our trips up here."

Her voice trailed off, and she bit her inner lower lip as she looked up at him. "Marco, now that we're here, tell me how bad it was. Is my family dead? Are they alive? I... I need to know, Marco."

He listened and nodded, staying by the door as she got the fire going and answered his questions. He would have to get used to the house before he would even begin to trust the darkness that enveloped them. In fact, he didn't think he would ever be able to trust this new darkness that enveloped the entire world it seemed. He had glanced away from her, but his eyes came back when she finally broached the subject that had been brooding all day.

Marco moved from the door and to the table in the center of the kitchen. He pulled out two chairs and nodded toward one so that she could come over and sit. He sat in the chair next to hers. He waited a moment, "I..." he looked away, "Your Parents are dead...I don't know where your brothers are, they weren't there."

The news hit her hard, completely unsugarcoated, given to her straight from the hip, so to speak. Tears filled her eyes, which she tried to brush away, smearing soot from the wood burning stove across her face. "Well, at least someone else in the family is alive. And I'm not gonna..." Faster, the tears welled up and streaked down her cheeks before she could wipe them away again.

She turned to the bags, trying to hold back further crying, digging through them and pulling out two oil lamps and a bottle of oil, which she divided between the two lamps before lighting them. The kitchen flared with the light from the lamps, and she looked at him, her sight blurry from the tears still streaming down her face. "Let's just eat something simple from our bags, then head up to get some sleep."

He knew she would at least want the news right away and not toned down or skirted around. Honestly, he expected a bigger reaction than he got, but just seeing her cry made his heart ache. He sighed out and shook his head, watching her get up and move to the bags, lighting two oil lamps and getting them plenty of light for the time being. He nodded, "Right, I'll get some of the jerky." He stood and went to the bag he had carried, pulling out some of the jerky that was left and bringing it to the table.

He divided it up evenly, and then went to her and gently put his hands on her arms, rubbing them, not speaking but hopefully giving her some comfort. No, there was no way she would be sleeping alone tonight.

Tisha turned towards him, burying her face in his fur as she felt like her world had crashed down on her. Her parents dead. Her brothers missing. Her own rape. The only bright part about life right now was Marco. Her personal saviour. Her arms slipped around his neck as she clung to him, her eyes shut tightly as her salty tears dampened his fur and her body shook. Not a sound was coming from her, but he could tell by her trembling and the amount of dur being dampened, not only was she crying, but she was sobbing.

Well, he certainly wasn't hungry, and he had a feeling that she wasn't either. He bit his lip and chewed on it a moment as she sobbed into his chest. Her arms were around his neck and he felt like she was a small girl again, a child almost. He wrapped his own muscular arms around her slim waist, holding her gently to his chest. They were standing next to the table, so he used one hand to scoop up the jerky and put it back in his bag, then he gripped her gently and half lifted her. She was fairly light for her age and he lifted her with little trouble.

He backed up until he felt his legs touch the nearest chair, then he sat down and gently maneuvered her into his lap, so that she was sitting on it and still able to hold onto him and sob. "Shhh....shhh..." he whispered to her, his eyes closing a bit as he nuzzled at the hair on top of her head. He wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't say anything, instead beginning to hum and then softly sing a song that he remembered from his childhood. It was just a simple little tune, but a calm one.

Tisha cried and cried, letting the hurt go as best as she could, as quickly as possible, so that she could function again in the morning. Just because they had made it to the cabin didn't mean they were a hundred percent safe. Plus, they had to get their own food while up here, so they didn't run out of the cans too quickly. For now, though, it felt good to have Marco holding her, comforting her as she cried for her parents' deaths, and the unknown circumstances of her brothers.

The humming and soft tone of his singing voice soon penetrated her crying and, while she still had tears falling, she wasn't sobbing any more. She still clung to him, her body soft and pliant, almost welcoming to his harder, stronger body.

He wanted to let her get all of her sorrow out, whatever she had to do. She could cry on him as long as she wanted, as long as she didn't push him away. He sighed out softly as they sat there, and he finished the singing, hearing her crying softly still, but more like a gentle sound then a sob. He rubbed her side, his fingers finding their way to the bare skin just under the edge of her shirt as he held her. He wasn't making advances, he was just holding her, hoping she would let him help her past this.

Tisha gave a slight hiccup as she kept her face buried in his fur, nuzzling into his neck as she rubbed her face in his fur, enjoying the soft texture of it. Her body curved against his, the softness of her body molding perfectly to his harder frame. The position they were in was far from sexual, but it sure as hell looked sexual, to an uninformed observer of the tragedy that the young human girl had just been through in the last two days.

Slowly, she lifted her head, looking up at Marco as she felt his fingers sliding over the skin of her back just above the waist. A trembling ran through her at the touch, not shudders of disgust, but more of quivers of hidden pleasure, waiting to be discovered. But the events of what had happened to her the day before were too fresh on her mind, and from the look in his eyes, he wasn't trying to push anything but comfort on her, and she relied heavily on touch for comfort.

It would take convincing on her part, or some downright obviously sexual invitations to make him make any sort of advance on her. Already they had forged a connection, one that he would not break for anything, least of all for some foolhardy attempt to push her when she wasn't ready. He would wait as long as he had to. He felt her shudder though, as she looked up at him, and he searched her face to make sure she didn't mind his touch on her skin. He moved his hand a bit more on her back, touching now a bit higher, pressing and rubbing, giving her a gentle backrub to soothe her, "Do you have a room upstairs where we'll both fit?"

She nodded, lifting a hand to wipe at her tear stained cheeks, leaving more soot to mix with the tears and leave tracks across her cheeks. "Bring all the bags upstairs. I don't want anyone breaking in and taking our food or other supplies. But leave the rabbits to hang to fully drain. I'll make something with them tomorrow."

She stood up, slinging her backpack on and picking up one of the others, then lifted one of the lamps to take up with her. Stepping to the stove, she fixed it so that the fire would burn low all night, making it easier to start up in the morning without using another match. The time she spent at the stove was enough for him to grab the other bags, then she led the way up the stairs.

She passed the first door and went to the second one, stepping into the dark room and lifted the lamp high enough to make sure she could see before carrying it to the bedside table. "You can put that lamp on the dresser or next to this one, but I think the dresser would be better." She dumped her bags on the floor by the dresser, then sat heavily on the bed, looking lost again.

He followed her into the second door, and put his oil lamp down on the top of the dresser, which gave them plenty of light to see by in the room. He licked his lips and set down the bags, arranging them so that in case they had to leave quickly, he could grab the most important first. He then nodded and turned around, coming over and kneeling in front of her as she sat on the edge of the bed, "Tisha... Do you want to undress and get in bed? Or sleep like that?"

Tisha looked at him, her gaze unfocused, before she slowly shook her head. Her hands went to her hoodie and her fingers fumbled as she tried to get to the zipper to undress. It was almost as if she was on autopilot, but the autopilot hadn't been programmed with what to do in these circumstances. The zipper fell, then she sat there, unmoving again.