The Interlopers (Part 2)

The following story is a continuation of a pre-existing story. Please read, 'The Interlopers' by Saki before reading this. Thank you~



"Who are they?" asked George quickly, straining his eyes to see what the other would gladly not have seen.
"Wolves"

Feeling his eyes widen under the blinding stains of blood George looked harder. "Y-you're kidding me, right Ulrich? T-this is all j-just a joke right?"
"I'm a man of my word George. I've never lied, and I don't intend to, especially now." Suddenly, there was no sound of them, no sight of them, no trace of them. Their footsteps covered by the screaming wind, their shadows hidden by the pounding blizzard.
"Looks as though this is it my newfound friend" Ulrich muttered softly.
"Only thing left is to take it like men" the other managed to spill shaking. The smallest twig cracked, and suddenly they heard something running, growling, nearer and nearer it drew. Both cringing in fear they hear the unexpected. Loud gunshots and barks could be heard for miles as they both slipped, finally giving into the harsh cold tormenting them from the start.

This wasn't the s anymore. He could tell. It was warm, quiet, conferrable. He awoke staring at what looked to be the bedroom of a cabin. Looking harder and out the window it seemed to be on the outskirts of the wooded area, the weather mocking him at his defeat. He sat up and felt around his face, feeling that the blinding dried blood had been cleaned. But by who and what he wondered. Whose cabin was this, and more importantly, where was Ulrich?
He arose and wandered the cabin for a bit. It was small, and made for one. He looked into the kitchen finding pelts all over the walls, same in the den and remembering some from the bedroom. Guns here hung up by the mantle, and nothing but sweet smells finned the isolated cabin. "Must be a hunter" he uttered to himself.
A twist was heard from the doorknob as a woman stepped into the room. She was the youngest smallest thing, and wasn't even dressed for the conditions outside, yet she was coming in from the terrible storm.
"Awake are we?" she asked, a warm smile placed on her fragile face.
"Appears so" he answered rather shocked. "Might you be the owner of this cabin?" She simply nodded, heading into the kitchen getting out fresh ingredients. George sat down at the table and watched her as she began cooking with various meets and seasoning.
"Where did you get those?"
"Oh, these?" she asked. "I hunted for the meat, and found the spices before the frost came. Or, did you think they just appeared in my cupboard?"
"Nothing of the sort. It's just that women don't normally do the hunting. Where's the man of the house?" The warm smile on her face quickly faded at the remark.
"There is none. There never was and never will be" she snarled as the knife flung onto the fresh piece of deer, hitting the cutting board like thunder. He jumped back at the sound and quickly straightened his posture.
"Terribly sorry for the comment. It was rather rude of me. Might I ask you something?" She turned to him.
"Ask away."
"First, how did I wind up here? Second, where might my friend be, and third of all, where exactly are we?" She turned back to the food.
"I rescued you from the wolves, and we are at the very edge of the forest in the Von Gradwicz territory. And your friend left to get help."
He raised his eyebrow. "Impossible. His legs were broken by the tree fall." She paused for the longest time, continuing to cook the food, and paying no attention to his remark. "Did you hear me!? His legs are broken!" Again she ignored him and set the finished food on the table.
"Eat. Now. Conserve your energy." He slammed the food off of the able spilling it all over the freshly skinned bear rug.
"ANSWER ME! WHERE IS ULRICH VON GRADWICZ!?" She stared at him blankly, her blue eyes turning into ice. "He got help from his men in the forest. He wanted to gather them up and return here when you awoke. His legs are no longer broken."
"No longer? How long was I asleep? Was I in a coma?" Pausing yet again she then looked up at him.
"However you want to put it. Clean up this mess before I get back, and get another bowl from the pot. That's no request" Without emotion she headed back out into the storm, one again no coat or protection whatsoever.
He stared at the meat and veggies scattered on the rug for awhile, then got his coat and looked around for his musket. "I refuse to stay with that woman. I'm heading back home and then to find Ulrich." But as he reached for the door, it had been bolted shut. "What? Locked? But there's… There's no key hole… No hinge…"
"Going somewhere?" a familiar gentle voice called behind him. The woman.
"You… B-but you… You left out the door you… There are no other… H-how!?" He pulled at the handle kicking the door itself, hoping something would break, budge, anything.
"Please. Calm yourself. There's a back door." He felt his heart settle and gave a sigh. Looking back into her ice eyes he shuttered and cleaned the mess, taking a seat at the table. "Would you like another bowl?"
"Yes please. Thank you" he began to eat, somewhat forgetting everything as that warm smile he saw before reappeared on her face. Finishing up he finally spoke. "This is very good. What meat is this? I suppose its deer right?"
"I call it Von Gradwicz"
He dropped his spoon and looked up at her frighten at first, then laughed. "After the territory this is right? You named it that cause of the land owner correct? Really though, what meat is this?"
"Why don't you check the icebox? There's plenty left." And so he got up and walked to the icebox. But opening it, he found no deer. No wolf. No animal to him. The only meat he saw, was the arms and legs of a human being. A sitting torso, all there but the head. He stared still trying to comprehend what had happened. Finally it hit him.
He had eaten the meat of Ulrich Von Gradwicz.
He stumbled across the room, vomiting, stuttering. Finally, he screamed. Pounding on the door he screamed louder than he ever had. "SOMEONE!!! ANYONE!!! HELP ME!!! HELP!!!" A loud shot was heard throughout the forest, and George Znaeym fell dead. Blood trickled down his forehead, and there was the smallest hole through the fine wooden door. The woman opened it, and Ulrich Von Gradwicz stepped into the house.
"Did I do well?" she asked.
"Yes. Very well. Thank you darling." He responded kissing her. He walked into the house and set his gun away.
"Ulrich, why did we have to kill him in such a matter? I mean, he really ate deer's meat, and the body parts were from a corps we dug up, but why make him thing such a horrible gruesome thing? Why didn't you kill him when I came for you in the forest?"
He lighted a cigar and turned to her. "I never hold a gun at the sleeping. Otherwise you'll never hear their screams."