His Protection

      “What are the three temperatures again sweety?”

           “We’re cold, the south is hot, and the west is mu- mug…”

           “Muggy.”

           “Yeah, that’s it!”

           The man smiled as his daughter correctly remembered the three temperatures of the world. It was a shame; she’d never get to experience a nice summer day without it being the equivalent to ‘hot as balls’. “Now who rules each place?”

           “Oh! Oh! I know this one!” The little girl cheered and pointed a finger to her father. “You!”

           “Yes, and?”

           “And… mommy?”

           Well, she’s not wrong. “I meant the other lands,” he paraphrased.

           The girl sat on the wood floor putting a hand to her head like it would help her think. “That mean man with the white hair is in the hot place, right?”

           Hate him. “Yes. And what did your mother and I say about him?”

           “He’s a big idiot who can’t protect his people from a pinecone?”

           The giant man had to stop himself from doubling over. He tried to smother the laughter in his throat but bits and bobs came out as he spoke. “That’s… snk… no but… gah- you aren’t wrong.” He took a minute to compose himself before continuing, “He can’t be trusted. Only an evil man puts up walls around the only oasis in a desert.”

           “And then there’s the mug lady!”

           “You mean the woman who rules the swamps. What did we say about her?”

           The little girl got up and stood up straight. “Attack on sight!”

           He smiled and lifted the little girl onto his lap as she giggled. He was proud of his daughter; he was proud with anything she did. And he never wanted her to leave this house, his house. My land, where I rule and no one can take that away from me, he thought.

           When humanity ultimately destroyed the world, the land was split into three territories. The north which was all snow all the time. The southeast which was a giant desert that buried cities and lakes alike, where only one giant oasis remained. And the west was flooded but had the last remaining 21^st century city in existence.

           A door opened behind them and he looked back to see a tiny figure in a big coat shuffled into the home and slamming the door. The figure pulled back their hood to reveal a petite woman. “I caught a deer, but he’s outside,” she said tossing her quiver onto a nearby chair.

           The little girl jumped up and lunged at her mother. “Mommy!”

           The woman braced herself as her daughter latched onto her legs. She didn’t say anything, just simply smiled and patted her daughter’s head. He watched his loves hands start going through their daughter’s hair. She glanced over to him and he took it as a cue to go get the deer.

           With a creak in his bones, he stood up a dusted off his shirt… a t-shirt. In a land that was snowing almost every day he should be wearing at least a sweater. But he wasn’t, and that’s why he ruled this land.

           “Be back in a sec,” he said to his family before going out into the wind and snow.

           The path leading to the shed was already getting covered by more snow. And the cycle never ends, he thought bitterly. He followed his wife’s footprints into the woods and down the hill until he came across a pile of bloody snow. Looking up a drop of blood fell onto his face. He stepped back and wiped the blood away with his big cold hands.

           A deer, with big antlers, was hanging in one of his wife’s famous traps. A snare would be hidden in the snow and when something stepped into it, the snare would tighten and pull the thing upwards. He noticed an arrow lodged into the deer’s throat, one shot, quick and clean. Despite himself, he smiled at the sight of the freshly killed deer. Yukari you beautiful huntress.

           He turned and undid the rope hanging off of a branch causing the dead deer to fall into the snow. Deep into the snow. To the point where he had to waddle over and dig around for the corpse until he gripped what felt like an antler.

           Pulling the animal corpse out of its snowy grave he heaved it over his shoulder, not minding the blood dripping over his back. And as he began the short journey home he wondered if any strangers were around, hiding amongst the wood. He wondered what they would think if they saw him. A giant, bloody, inappropriately dressed, barefoot, man with a deer corpse over his shoulder. He grinned at what terror the sight would ensure.

           When he arrived home, he followed the snowy path to the shed and kicked the door open. Damn freezing temperatures. He plopped the corpse on a table in the middle of the room and turned on the lone light in the shed. The wind howled outside as he put on his gloved and sharped his knifes. With a light tug he pulled the arrow out of the deer’s neck and placed it aside.

           He stabbed his hunting knife into the deer’s chest and began to pull back, cutting past the hide and beginning the skinning process. He recalled the time where he was caught in the woods skinning a bear by some village people. He recalled the looks on their faces and how quickly they submitted to him. He recalled their fear when they noticed how he was not affected by the cold.

           Yes, he thought. Pulling the skin off the deer and getting to the muscle and meat underneath. They gave up their democracies so easily. They’re lucky I don’t want to rule be their king or emperor or whatever.

           He took a butcher knife and hacked off a chunk of meat. They’re lucky I protect their asses. They would have screwed over by the weather if I wasn’t here. He jammed the knife into the table. They’re under MY protection.