By the time the paladin was ready to quit her bed for more than her personal needs, snow had fallen outside the cabin to such a depth that it was impossible for the paladin to return home or even consider making such a trip. Despite her pride, the paladin had to admit that her own clothing and boots were inadequate protection from the cold, winter mountain weather. That same pride prevented her from accepting beyond temporary wear, the warm clothing that Teech offered.

Though made for a slightly taller woman of greater heft, the paladin found the clothing Teech offered to be comfortable. Still though, she was determined, when she returned home, to be dressed in her own clothing and armored besides, as a paladin should. According to Teech, her own armor and weapon had been looted after the honor guard had fallen and the paladin was willing to accept that as fact.

Since every paladin began training by making his own armor after being knighted, the paladin had no doubt that she could make more before returning home, lest she arrive in disgrace. Unfortunately, it meant that she was forced to rely on the hospitality of her enemy until that task could be completed.

At first, the paladin held herself aloof from her host, speaking only to ask questions or answer them. She'd been born of a noble household and raised as a warrior, served by others and no man's servant. Thus, she had never learned to do any of the mundane chores necessary to the keeping of a home, nor did she care to learn, but expected to be waited on as a matter of course. She viewed these chores in the same light as the work of the many servants in her father's home.

As the winter wore on, sheer boredom pulled the paladin into seeking to assist her host at his routine tasks until, as the months wore on, they carried out almost every task side-by-side. They split and carried firewood, drew water from the spring for cooking, drinking, washing and cleaning. They hunted, then butchered what they brought home. The paladin learned to cure leather, to dry down 'jerked' meat, to cook, wash laundry and dishes, even to boil sap into a sweet syrup.

Despite all of this, the paladin held herself emotionally aloof from her host, allowing him to refer to her simply as 'paladin', rather than offering her name for him to call her by. He was a ridge runner, after all, an enemy to her people. To give any enemy her name was to give him power over her.

He'd only nodded evenly when she'd explained it to him one evening, early in winter when he'd told her the tale of how he'd earned his own name. With a somber expression, he'd taken a sip of his cider. "I know that; why do you think I never asked?"

"They why did you give me yours?" she'd challenged. "You even gave me the origin. Do you not think that gives me an advantage?"

He chuckled. "Sure, it gives you an advantage; you know how to get my attention when you need it. Knowing what a gift is called don't mean you can steal it from me though. It ain't something you can just pick up and walk off with- it's who I am in the presence of my God, not what I have."

He paused but the paladin didn't reply, trying to understand the concept. "I pray you'll understand it fer yourself, one day," he finally finished in a quiet voice, as if he feared overstepping his bounds.

Despite the gentle quality of his voice, Teech's piercing expression made the paladin want to squirm. Instead, she dropped her gaze to her own, clay mug of cider, thinking about how to respond. "Having your name gives me the power of curse or blessing," she reminded him. "Have you no fear of any curse I could lay on your head?"

"Nope." His answer was immediate and confident.

The paladin looked up at him in surprise. "Why not?"

"Because my God is my shield, my glory and He who raises my head," (1) Teech explained mildly. "Curses are like little birds in flight (2); they don't come and rest on the undeserving, and since I don't deserve your curse, my God will return good to me in place of your curse (3)."

The paladin blinked, at a loss for how to respond. "You really believe that?"

"Why not?" he shrugged. "My God promised me, and He ain't never led me wrong." He took another bite of his dinner and stretched his long legs out toward the fire from the chair he sat in, entirely at ease and relaxed.

In sharp contrast, the paladin's throat was so tight that she could barely swallow. His comparison had been clear to her, if in a way different than what he'd intended. As a paladin and the daughter of a paladin, she'd been raised around birds of prey; she'd had her own falcon as soon as she'd been strong enough to bear one on her arm.

As Teech had explained the nature of curses, the image of her favorite hawk came to mind. If the bird found no suitable prey, it landed back on her fist. The same was true for smaller birds as well; if they found no other suitable place to rest, they returned to their point of origin, the original perch. His silent warning was clear to her; any curse she might try to lay on him would fall back on her, instead.

She wondered if this principle accounted at least in part for the reason his people had never been defeated by her own. Though they defended themselves with mere bows and wore no armor, they never initiated any attack. These mountain-folk had never succumbed to any attempt by Central Valley-dwellers to overrun and rule the hills.

In fact, though Central Valley's territory included some forested land at the base of the mountains, not one pace of it extended upward at any kind of angle. Any attempt to remove timber from hill ground almost always ended in disaster. Finally, when it seemed an answer was required, the paladin had shrugged. "Fair enough," she allowed.

He changed the subject then, as if sensing she'd needed to speak of something else. "there's a storm coming in a day or two. Tomorrow morning, I mean to fill the back room with firewood. You game?"

By which he was asking if she wanted to help, the paladin had known. "Split or carry?" she'd asked.

"I've another axe."

His mild answer had made her grin. Never in her life had the paladin ever swung an axe, save at an enemy's neck. "So, I'm to carry what I split?" she guessed. His wink and grin had been an answer enough. The paladin had realized that he was offering her a competition if she'd cared to accept. She'd nodded back, and that had been the beginning of her lessons in mountain life. It had also been the beginning of the actual winter.

A month after that conversation had taken place, the paladin had to admit that it had also been the beginnings of a germ of respect for him and his people. She still couldn't understand his religion, but neither did she entirely dismiss it anymore, either.

"Game of checkers before bed?" he offered as they cleaned up from the dinner that had been mostly silent for her reflections. "It's dark out- but it still seems a touch early for sleeping."

The paladin considered it. "You'll have to teach me how to play," she finally agreed. He fetched the game board and playing pieces. Once the paladin understood the rules and mechanics of game play, they played until a yawn split her concentration, signaling that to be their last game of the evening.

Sliding into bed that night, it occurred to the paladin that she was content. For the first time, she began to understand why the mountain folk lived as simply as they did. Though they each worked hard to meet their own needs, they also took time to simply enjoy life and each other's company. It was a balance that seemed missing from her life in Central Valley. For the remainder of winter, the paladin was content to follow Teech's lead and live his lifestyle.

Teech Servis

During the coldest months, the dog slept beside the paladin on the bed after the fire died down rather than on her blanket before the hearth. Teech was content to allow the dog to share warmth and companionship the way she had when Teech's mother had occupied the big bed alone. Teech figured the dog's company would be a comfort to the hurting girl, the way she'd comforted his dying mother.

Occasionally, Teech offered a small peek into his deeply personal faith, usually in response to some inane comment by the paladin. These short bursts of wisdom never failed to shake the paladin by the simplicity of his trust in a God he couldn't see, but Who walked beside him, carrying an end to a conversation that the paladin could only hear Teech's part of. Clearly unnerved by the whole concept of it, the paladin never worked up the nerve to ask questions about Teech's God, to his disappointment.

When spring arrived, it took the paladin by surprise, as slowly as it crept out of the snow. In sheltered places, flowers bloomed; their bright colors seemed a defiant splash amidst the snow that lingered on the ground. The days grew longer and slowly warmer until the snow had given way to mud and frost. Seeing her reaction to the changing season never failed to please Teech, even though he didn't know why.

Teech's ever-present chores changed as he 'cleaned the last of winter' out of the cabin and prepared for summer. Together, they tilled the garden but refrained from planting. Instead, Teech taught the paladin how to plant garden seeds in little wooden trays that came indoors at night to protect the tender seedlings from the frost.

Hunting ceased until Teech's favorite game could raise their young, so Teech showed the paladin how to cook the meat they'd dried down over winter. The cabin was repaired; roof and walls, shutters, doors and foundation stones. Learning to maintain the log cabin seemed to interest the paladin, so Teech took his time to explain the reason for everything he did.

The dog stopped sleeping on the bed and began to shed her thick, winter coat. The rolling tufts of dog hair made it necessary to sweep most every day. As soon as it was warm enough during the day, Teech cut his hair and trimmed his beard, then laughed at the paladin when she stared.

"I'd shave it off entirely, but it's a mite chilly just yet," he explained. The paladin nodded to accept his explanation, but stubbornly, she didn't tell him how much she liked the change, even though Teech could see it written on her face.

Still, he understood her reasoning. What good was it for her to allow an emotional attachment to someone she'd never see again, except possibly to fight in battle? Teech wished she'd want to stay, but didn't press either way. It had to be her decision, a fact he fully understood.