In Need — 8. When We Are

“Elias?” Clara’s voice came from the darkness, thin and frightened. “Who is it?”

Elias went still. The wind didn't thud. The wind pushed, it shrieked, it whistled. This was a deliberate weight striking the wood. 8. When We Are in Need

Elias took the tin cup from the table, dipped it into the melted snow-bucket by the fire, and held it to the man’s cracked lips. The stranger drank greedily, coughing and choking, the water running clear through his beard. “Elias

Elias stood up, his joints popping like dry kindling. He reached for the heavy iron fire poker leaning against the hearth—the rifle was empty, its last ball spent three weeks ago on a scrawny hare. He moved to the door, his boots loud on the floorboards. “Who’s there?” he called out. The wind pushed, it shrieked, it whistled