Aina. She gave the smallest nod. That was how it began. That first night, Aina slept in the chair beside the fire with her belt knife locked tightly in one hand. Ran never mentioned it.
He only settled the coals, made certain there was enough wood beside the hearth, and went into the back room. He stretched out on his bed, and stared into the darkness above him, wondering what exactly he had brought into his life, and what morning would ask of them both. The next day, Ran rose early. He put coffee over the fire and sliced dried venison into strips. The same plain breakfast he usually ate.
Without making anything of it, he placed a portion for Aina on the table and sat down with his own. She ate. She did not thank him. Ran had not expected her to, but she ate. And when he poured the coffee, Aina wrapped both hands around the cup and held it close to her face, letting the steam warm her skin before she finally took a drink.
Ran found himself thinking about the old fire ring in the northern pines, then about the oversized traps. They were far too large for deer. Those traps had been made to hold something with weight, something capable of fighting back. The sort of trap men used when they cared more about keeping their quarry from escaping than whether it was still whole when they came to collect. Ran had heard plenty about the bounty trade.
Arizona territory in 1883 was no gentle place for an Apache. Apache families had been hunted, forced out, driven from one place to another, and pressed into smaller and smaller stretches of country until many who remained free traveled in scattered groups through the mountains, staying low and moving quietly. Ran did not know exactly who had set the iron trap, but he was beginning to understand what kind of men might have done it. He carefully used a few simple words and then his hands. He tried to ask Aina whether she was far from her people.
She understood. She raised two fingers then pointed north. After that she made a walking motion with her hand. Two days on foot. Ran figured her people were somewhere 2 days north of the cabin.
Not far enough if bounty hunters were already moving through these woods. Ran told her he intended to ride north that morning and look for their camps. Aina's answer came immediately. She shook her head once hard. It was more than disagreement.
It was refusal. She spoke several sentences in Apache, never taking her eyes off him. Ran could not follow the words, but he understood the meaning behind them well enough. She had not survived this long by letting strangers decide what was best for her. So Ran stayed.
Over the next few days, an awkward but steady rhythm began to take shape inside the cabin. Aina's ankle needed rest, and most of the time she allowed it. But she was not a woman made for sitting still. Near the door lay several broken strips from an old harness that Ran had meant to repair. Aina found them.