Free Grayfox by Michael Phillips

the kind who might cut me up and freeze my meat to go along with his chunks of snake!
    His face was thin and long, and especially in the flickering light of the fire you could see its strong lines—sunken-in cheeks that you could see even behind the full beard, high cheekbones, a sharp jaw and chin. His whole frame was lean but not what I’d call skinny.That’s how his face was too. There was no fat, just muscle and bone and hardiness. He looked strong and tough, like he’d been in a few tangles and probably given the other fellow the worst of it. He had lots of hair going all over the place, though it wasn’t as gray or tangled as Alkali Jones’s. The beard was black.
    I couldn’t tell a bit how old he might be. A beard always makes a man look older. And in the darkness of the cave, for all I could tell, the man might have been anywhere from thirty to fifty. He seemed to still have his teeth, every once in a while one of them would catch a shine from the flames.
    He tossed a piece of wood on the fire, and sparks danced up from the disturbance.
    â€œWhere do you get wood around here?” I asked.
    â€œSpend my summers gathering wood for winter, spend my winters storing away snow water down in the cave for summer. Everything you need’s out here, son.”
    Now for the first time I looked in the other direction, toward the lightness. We were some thirty feet from the opening of the cave, but I couldn’t see out.
    â€œWhy is the light so pale?” I asked. “Is the sun just coming up?”
    The deep laughter came again. “Don’t you know what you’re looking at there, son?” he said. “That’s snow—solid snow! Only lets in a bit of light.”
    â€œSnow . . .” I said. “But why is it there?”
    â€œWe’re snowed in! I told you that last night. There’s twenty feet of snow over the whole mouth of the cave. You’re not looking at daylight, son, you’re looking at a snowbank—from the inside!”
    I lay quiet for a while, trying to take in this sudden new development, although I still didn’t realize the full extent of what his words would mean. As it turned out, I didn’t see the real light of day for two weeks, when we dug our way out after it had half melted down. And it wasn’t the only time we got snowed in that winter, either!
    â€œIs that why my leg’s so cold?” I asked after a minute or two.
    â€œIn a manner of speaking, I suppose you’d say that.”
    â€œHow do you mean?”
    â€œI mean you’re cold from the snow, all right—but not because it’s out there.”
    â€œWhere then?”
    â€œLook down at your leg, son. I been packing that broken bone in snow on and off since the minute I got it splinted. That’s the cold you’re feeling, to keep it from swelling up, and that’s why you’ll keep the leg and be walking on it inside a month.”
    â€œSo that’s why it doesn’t hurt . . . and it’s all numb.”
    â€œAnother day or two, and it’ll be out of danger. It won’t need the snow after that. Then we’ll make you some kind of a crutch to go with the splint so you can hobble around some. Why, you’ll be good as new come spring.”
    â€œSpring!” I protested. “I can’t stay here till spring! I’ve got to get back.”
    â€œI told you before, you’re not going anyplace anytime soon. Now, if we get a break in the weather and if you can get around on that leg—if you’re of a mind to, then I’ll take you down the mountain. But until then, you just better figure on getting used to this cave. It’s going to be your home for a while, there’s no getting around it.”
    Again I was quiet, thinking about what he’d said.
    â€œWhat’s your name, son?” the man asked.
    â€œZack . . . Zack Hollister,” I