Episode 5

The creak of the door announced Elisabeth's return, followed by the penetrating aroma of fresh herbs and the deep growl of Falko, who bared his fangs at the intruder. Dietrich, who had spent hours staring at the entrance, turned sharply to the wall as the woman crossed the threshold.

She removed her mud-covered boots and dew-soaked cloak with mechanical movements. Her hands, cheeks, and the tip of her nose were reddened by the winter cold. How long had she been wandering through the forest? Without uttering a word, she picked up the breakfast tray and headed to the kitchen, where she began to prepare the meal with familiarity, going back and forth between the shelves and the stove.

When she returned with a steaming dish, Dietrich noticed that her green eyes avoided all eye contact. The tension between them was palpable, but neither was willing to break the silence.

After finishing her own tasks -lunch, feeding Falko, Elisabeth immersed herself in her usual routine, selecting herbs to dry. The silence of the cabin was so familiar that, for a moment, she completely forgot the presence of the intruder. A folk song began to escape her lips, her sweet and warm voice filling the space like honey pouring out.

Dietrich frowned at first. "How annoying," he thought. But the melody was so comforting that, without realizing it, his eyelids began to weigh down. The fever, combined with the gentle rhythm of the song, dragged him into a deep and restorative sleep.

Hours later, Elisabeth suddenly remembered her unwanted guest. Peeking into the room, she found him sound asleep, his breathing regular and his face relaxed. She leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a mixture of irritation and curiosity.

"It's a pleasant sight when he has his mouth shut," she muttered to herself before retreating.

The idea of a hot bath became irresistible. She patiently heated water until filling her modest wooden tub. As she undressed, a warning voice echoed in her mind: "She shouldn't do this with a stranger in the house." But the fatigue and the need to relax were stronger.

The hot water immediately relieved the tension in her muscles. Closing her eyes, she let the steam envelop her body, carrying away the worries of the day. Until...

The creak of the door opening startled her. Turning, she found Dietrich in the doorway, his expression as impenetrable as ever. But the real danger was behind: Falko, with his fur bristling and fangs bared, was preparing to attack.

"No!" Elisabeth shouted, jumping up from the tub. Forgetting completely the modesty that had invaded her, water splashed everywhere. "Falko, stop!"

The dog, blinded by protective fury, lunged forward and sank his teeth into Dietrich's leg. The man didn't make a single move, as if pain couldn't affect his stony composure.

"If you hurt him more, it will take this man longer to leave here!" Elisabeth exclaimed, hastily grabbing a towel to cover herself.

In her haste to intervene, her foot slipped on the wet floor. The world spun before her eyes as she fell... straight onto Dietrich's chest. The thin, soaked towel barely concealed her nakedness, and now she lay practically on top of him, their faces separated by barely a few inches.

"Oh, no..." she whispered, feeling the heat of the blush burn her cheeks.

Falko barked frantically around them, but Elisabeth could barely perceive it. Her whole world was reduced to those blue eyes, cold as winter ice but now shining with an intensity that left her breathless.

Dietrich didn't say a word. But the rapid beating of his heart under the palm of her hand betrayed that, for the first time since he arrived, the imperturbable stranger had lost some of his calm.

Elisabeth pulled away from Dietrich with a sharp movement, almost stumbling backward.

"Did Falko hurt you?" she asked, nervously, before frowning. "No, better tell me... what were you doing here?"

Dietrich looked at her silently, his blue eyes inscrutable. Then, without answering, he got up with difficulty —still weak from the wound— turned around and limped back to the room, closing the door behind him.

Elisabeth stood in the hallway, more confused than before. Why had he entered the bathroom? Had he come looking for her? Or was it just an oversight, a coincidence?

She went back into the bathroom and dressed with quick movements, but the scene kept replaying in her mind: her body barely covered by the wet cloth, falling on top of him. And, worst of all, the firmness of his body under hers.

"A body carved in stone..."

Her cheeks burned. She had studied anatomy enough to recognize every muscle she had felt against her. His biceps, hard as rock; his pectorals, defined even at rest; his abdominals, tense under her touch. And then...

"Oh, heavens."

It hadn't been a leg muscle that had pressed against her stomach.

"At least he seems to be healthy..." she muttered, in a desperate attempt to rationalize the situation.

But saying that only made things worse.

She covered her face with both hands, feeling the heat of shame even in her ears.

"This wouldn't be happening if I had just let him die..." she whispered, before stopping.

No. It wasn't like that.

"No... I'm not that kind of scum," she said aloud, more to herself than to anyone.

She clenched her fists, took a deep breath, and left the bathroom with determination. It didn't matter what had happened. Dietrich was still an intruder in her house, a man who would soon be gone.

But when her eyes fell on the closed door of the room, she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking then.

Moments before.

The dream broke suddenly.

Dietrich sat up with a start, the pain of the wound burning like a whip at moving too fast. For an instant, he didn't even remember where he was. He only saw wooden walls, a low ceiling, and a rough blanket on him.

"A cabin?"

He got up staggering, ignoring the fire in his side. The silence was absolute, except for the distant crackling of the fire in the stove.

"Where am I?"

He advanced through the room, running his hand over his face to clear the haze of sleep. The kitchen was empty. The front door closed. But there was another half-open door, from which came steam and the sound of water moving.

Without thinking, he opened it.

And then he saw her.

Her blonde hair, soaked and darkened by the water, sticking to her bare back. The curve of her neck, the drops slipping down her skin pink from the heat. The profile of her face, turning towards him, her green eyes—always so defiant—widened. But it wasn't the scream that paralyzed him. It was the way that, upon seeing him, her concern overruled all shame.

Memories returned with a jolt: the wound, the snow, that woman saving his life.

But then he couldn't move.

She rose from the tub without thinking, her expression of concern surpassing any modesty. Golden water falling from every curve. Firm breasts, narrow waist, hips that invited to be grabbed. The towel she tried to cover herself with barely concealed the essentials.

"Why...?"

Then he understood.

The loyal beast that followed her was behind him, fangs bared, ready to attack.

"Idiot."

He hadn't even noticed.

And when they collided—when her naked body crashed against his—Dietrich felt something break inside him.

The heat.

The weight.

Her scent, sweet and herbal, mixing with the hot steam.

And then...

"Damn."

He could feel his own reaction, intense and uncontrollable, right where her belly had brushed against his.

He bit his lower lip hard, tasting the iron of his own blood.

It wasn't just desire.

It was hunger.

Of the kind he had never felt before. Of the one that made his hands tremble with the need to sink into that wet hair, to bite that neck, to taste the flavor of the water on her pink nipples.

But when she pulled away, ashamed and furious, he said nothing.

He couldn't.

So he just got up, walked back to the room. But walking back to the room—each step a torture with the blood pooling in his groin—his mind kept recreating the moment:

How would she feel under me in that tub? Would she moan if I pressed her against the wood? Would she taste like wild herbs or something sweeter?

Closing the door, his knuckles white against the wood, Dietrich let out a choked curse.

"Idiot... it's nothing you haven't seen, touched and felt... Why get so upset...! I must calm down..."

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