Dan felt the tug of the handline through his mittens as a fish finally took the bait and hauled it in hand over hand, trying not to let too much of the freezing water soak into his heavy quilted coat and overleggings. It fought him, of course, and he stumbled at a few of the worst tugs before he managed to brace himself securely on the bank. Finally, he managed to reel it in and bring it up, flapping and thrashing, through the hole in the ice. He preferred a fish trap most of the arc, but with the rivers and streams beginning to freeze over, there was no easy way to tend to that sort of fish trap. He smacked his catch hard on the head with the pommel of his knife until it went still, then cleaned and gutted it for easier transport, wrapping it in a clean rag of cloth and tucking it into his gathering bag. He filled his waterskin, shoved the bundle of evergreen branches back into the fishing hole to keep it from freezing shut in the cold, then turned back towards his camp. He had gotten no more than three paces when he caught the sound of bells - or was it laughter - and his head came up like a wary rabbit.
Then he was abruptly elsewhere, standing in a stone gazebo covered in decorations, and facing a woman he knew from some deep instinct was Saoire.
She introduced herself, and a creature that looked as much like a shrew as anything else, her hands signing as she spoke so that he could understand her. He bowed in gratitude and respect, and then she was gone, leaving him with the shrew, and a gift he had never expected to receive. He drew a slow deep breath, full of the scent of spices and pine branches, and turned to the small, strange, creature. "Do you know Sign?" he asked.
Kazina smiled. "Of course," she signed.
Dan smiled back, as much from relief as anything else, and began to peel off his mittens, folding them together and tucking them through his rough rope belt to secure them to his body. He shifted his bag and waterskin a little further round onto his back, out of the way, and moved over to the small table that held the wrapped gift. Growing up in the orphanage, nobody had ever given him more than a bit of honeycake and a set of new-to-him (but clearly second-hand or third-hand) clothes if he had grown out of or worn out the ones on his back. Since then, well, he lived alone and at peace out in the wild. There was no one close enough to him to buy or give him anything, let alone wrap it as beautifully as this. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he echoed, stalling for time as he tried to process this, hoping that that was the correct courtesy for whatever the little creature was and wherever it was from (and wherever he currently was). "Can you see well enough from down there, or would you like something to stand on so that you can see better?"
Kazina nodded. "Thank you for asking," she told him, and climbed up to sit on the edge of the table, swinging her legs, before adding gently, "It is yours, you may open it."
Dan nodded back and reached for the ribbon with an almost steady hand. He undid the bow and pulled the ribbon free, winding it into a neat coil around two of his fingers and then tucking the coil of ribbon into a pocket like the precious thing it was. He unfolded the paper, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the box inside. He reached out and traced a line of the intricate pattern with a reverent finger, blinking back the tears that threatened to blur his vision of it. It was amazing. It was perfect. Somebody had clearing put an incredible amount of time and effort and skill into the box, to make something this ideal for the roaming life he lived. And then they had just - given it to him. He swallowed again. "Please give my warmest thanks and regards to the giver of the gift, if you know them and see them," he managed to sign, glad he didn't have to try and force sound past the lump in his throat.
Kazina smiled again, as if she understood what he was feeling. "I will if I see them," she agreed. "But for now, there is more to your gift than a simple box. Let me show you." She climbed to her feet and pattered across the table to the box. Lifting the lid, she showed him the inside, and the various inserts, and how they could be slid into the box in all their various combinations to form compartments and allow him to organise the contents of the box.
Dan watched closely, trying to absorb all the details as fast and as thoroughly as he could. He put the box to its first use by folding the paper it had been wrapped in into a neat square and sliding it into the box for storage until he got back to his camp and could find a better, safer place to store it.
It wasn't just the compartments though. He had some small skill with wood himself, but whoever had made this one had had far better skills, and he knew he could learn so much just by studying and analysing what they had done with this incredible gift. To begin with, the corners were beautifully and wonderfully done, so much more elegant than the simple butt joints (where two pieces of wood were placed against each other and nailed or pegged together) or angled joints (much like butt joints, except that the pieces were cut at matching angles so that it was less obvious from the outside) that he was most familiar with, and the inside panels had grooves in them to support the longer inserts. When he was done ogling the inside of the box, Kazina closed the lid and produced the back piece. She slid it in and out of place, locked it to turn the box into a chair, and then unlocked it to let Dan have a go for himself. He practised turning the box into a chair for sitting on in camp and then back into a box for transport and storage under Kazina's kind, shy, eyes, until he was sure he could manage it alone, and thanked her with all the words and signs that he could muster.
He was never going to have to sit on the ground again, unless he wanted to - because it was cooler at ground level during Saun, for example, or because he had some project spread out on the ground and wanted to be at the same level so he could work on it easily. He'd used logs and stones, when they were available and convenient, to raise his backside off the cold or damp ground, but with this box chair gift thing, he could set up camp with more of an eye for shelter or other things and not have to worry about seating. The lump in his throat built again, and his eyes blurred with tears. He swallowed hard, blinked them back for now and took a slow, carefully deep, carefully steady breath.
"I deeply appreciate all of this," he told Kazina, the gestures of his hands indicating and taking in the gift, the thoughtfulness, the location - outside, open to the air and full of both scent, and freedom, like his home that was all the wilderness around, the decorations, so bright and festive and welcoming, and her own patience and kindness towards him, "but I think I had better be getting home once more. My ponies will wonder where I have gotten to, if I stay too long." He took another breath, and then added, "If you are ever in my part of the world, you are welcome to visit. I don't meet so many who know Sign as well as you."
"Thank you," Kazina replied. "I will keep that in mind."
Dan gathered the box and all that belonged with it into his arms, cutting off his ability to sign any further comments, and Kazina raised her hands in a gesture he had never seen before and could not translate.
Then he was back on the path beside the stream, with the box still in his arms. He took a breath of colder, clearer air, only holding the scents of the wild, and realised that he had forgotten to put his mittens back on. His hands were going to be half frozen, he realised with a wry smile entirely for himself, before he got back to his camp once more.
"Signed words" Spoken words
