***Summary: Arthur is a well-off businessman in the coal and lumber industry, but is caught with moonshiners when his business rivals turn him in. After running into the snowy mountains to escape the law and bounty hunters, he is shot and tumbles down a ravine. Left to die in the cold, he is saved by a strange mountain dweller and brought to his cabin. The Russian mountain man Ivan nurses him back to health and the classy Englishman is stuck living the life of a forest dweller, which he despises. Ivan forces him to do strenuous and disgusting hard labor, like hunting skinning animals for pelts in order to earn his keep. The winters are harsh, bears and wolves are numerous, and other mountain dwellers scale the snowy land in search of settlement. Will Arthur come to love the mountain man and his lifestyle? Or will they both end up in the city jail to be hanged?

***Welcome to another RusEng fic! This would be my second one with this pairing! I am currently writing a RusPrus fic as well along side this one, so updates will be alternated between stories. Throughout this story, I will be using some terms specifically geared to this time period, so please, bear with me. ^_^ I've never done this genre before, so I hope you, the reader, will enjoy it as well! Read and Review, please!

***Warnings: Language, violence, disturbing scenes

***Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.

Frozen Shadow

Chapter 1

Montana, 1888

He ran.

Arthur Kirkland, a rich lumber industrialist was on the run from the law. He had been turned in by his business rivals after they had found out he was involved in organizing sales with moonshiners. Arthur had been taking in a hefty little profit from the moonshine industry, as well as his own successful lumber business. Arthur had fought the accusations and pleaded 'not guilty' over and over again, but those vicious wolves used their money and connections to FIND him guilty. And he was guilty of it. Perhaps it was not the best decision he had made in his thirty-one years of life, but it was sweet while it had lasted. How quickly his life had changed. It seemed like only yesterday he was in his office, drinking brandy and smoking while writing up receipts in front of a fire. He would entertain the city's aristocrats at least once a week, delighting them with music, food, service and entertainment. The young women adored him and other men disliked him. He was an Englishman making a strong living in a young America where the men were still prejudice against foreigners. The country was ever expanding and Arthur was taking advantage of that expansion with his lumber. The country needed houses, railroads and buildings. His next plan was to get involved in the railroad business and expand his lumber empire further. But now, those plans were shot.

He ran through the heavy snow, trying to stay off of the mountain path so he could not get caught. Behind him the hounds were barking as they tracked his every move. Arthur was beginning to panic. He had been running all day through the snow, dodging trees and avoiding dogs. He wore only the clothes that were on his back when he was chased out of the mountain city; a wool suit and a fur cloak. Exhaustion and hunger were weakening him and the mountain only seemed to get steeper as he ran on. The dogs were growing louder; he could hear the shouts of the lawmen and the neighing of horses. They were gaining on him! Arthur paused a moment to glance behind him and through the trees, he could see movement of men. Panicking, he trudged on; higher and higher he climbed, using his bare hands to help lift his weight. The snow's frosty bite stung his fingers, making the bones stiffen and ache painfully. His teeth chattered. His body shook. His mind was screaming at him to do something, anything, to save him from being torn limb by limb by mad dogs.

Finally, he reached the top of a ravine and dared to glance back at the man hunters. He could clearly make out the dogs now; four dogs and one man, followed by a few others. When he saw that first man aim a gun in his direction, Arthur ran along the ravine. A gunshot. Arthur screamed, covering his head and trying not to lose sight of his escape. Another gunshot; the bullet hit a tree, splattering shattered pieces of bark inches away from his body. Bang! Bang! Bang! Arthur dodged another bullet. The dogs had reached the top now. He was doomed.

BANG!

Arthur let out a cry as a bullet lodged in his shoulder, making him stumble in the snow and he lost his footing. He quickly grabbed onto a skinny tree to steady himself before he fell down the ravine. The need to run made him ignore the pain in his shoulder and Arthur continued his escape. More gunshots. More barks. More running. And then, something red exploded behind his eyes and there was a deafening sound in his right ear. Then there was pain. Pain and darkness. Then cold. Then pain again. His body moved quickly; bouncing, rolling. And by then his mind had gone completely blank and his vision disappeared.

And then there was nothing.

/

Ivan Braginski, a Russian immigrant, lived alone in the snowy mountain woods of Montana after his family had migrated from the east coast in search of opportunity. His family was unable to find work in the big cities and was told of the vast opportunities for making a living out west. As a very young boy he traveled by wagon with his family until they found an appropriate spot to start building their lives; a place where they would not be discriminated against. They had built their cabin home far enough away from the main mountain city, but close enough to visit the market and sell their goods. His father was a hunter and fur trapper and was very skilled in the art. He taught his son everything a young man needed to know in order to keep his family healthy and protected. Ivan was the middle child of three siblings. He had an older sister, Katsyua, who married an American mountaineer in the city when she was only sixteen. His youngest sister, Natalia, had been sent off to live with her older sister and brother-in-law in hopes to become educated in the ways of American women. Their mother had died during the winter season from a fever a few years after they had established their homestead. With his sisters gone and his mother dead, only Ivan and his father remained in the cabin. Yet his father, who had always been a tortured, lonely soul, packed his bags and told his young son of nineteen that he was leaving on an adventure. Ivan knew that his father would never come back and he had been right, for he had lived alone in this cabin for some thirteen years now. And he was happy living his solitary life in the mountains.

Ivan aimed his gun at a snowshoe rabbit, pulled the trigger and shot it. That was the fourth rabbit he had killed today, the other three were dangling from a stick over his shoulder. He wished he could have killed something other than rabbits today, but perhaps tomorrow would be different. He picked up the dead animal and tied it to the stick with the others. The pelts, ears, and tails he would sell at the market, but the meat he would keep for himself. Just as he was turning to head back to his cabin, he noticed something black lying on the ground near the foot of a ravine. Curious, Ivan went over to the form, wondering if someone had shot a bear or a moose. His violet eyes widened when he saw that it was not an animal, but a man. A dead man? Ivan put down the rabbits and knelt beside the body, seeing that the man had been shot on the left side of the head. The bullet did little damage and most of the wound settled on the ear and the temple. The cold weather had helped to slow the bleeding and kept away infection. Carefully, Ivan rolled the body over and pressed his ear to the man's chest, hearing the very faint sound of a heartbeat.

'So you are alive, lucky bastard.' Ivan took out a rag from his hunting bag and tied it around the gun wound on the man's head and ear. He would be able to treat the wounds once he got the man back to his cabin. Judging by the suit and cloak, this was a rich man from the city, probably someone who was in trouble in the law. He couldn't leave the man out here to die, so Ivan picked him up gently and slung him over his shoulder. With the rabbits on his other shoulder, he slipped the shotgun in his back holster and made off for his cabin.

/

'Where am I? What happened? It hurts…! Something's not right…'

Arthur blinked his eyes open, slowly and was met with a strange orange glow as well as pain. His head throbbed, his ear burned and his shoulder ached. Aside from the pain, the air smelt of cooking meat and burning embers. Opening his eyes as wide as they would go, Arthur looked up into the wooden rafters of what could only be described as a house. A cabin; with herbs, baskets and bones hanging from the rafters. The bones unnerved him and he felt himself begin to panic. Where was he? How did he get here? Slowly and carefully, he sat up on the soft surface he was currently laying on, which he ruled out to be a bed. He held his head as a nauseous wave of pain shot through his body all the way down to his toes. He felt tears sting his eyes, and he grit his teeth hard enough to draw blood from his gums. But the pain quickly subsided, although there was still a dull ache there. Arthur lifted his hand to the left side of his head where the pain was and found that his ear had been bandaged up. The bandage stretched all around the circumference of his head. Someone had helped him. He looked down at himself, noting that he was naked from the waist up. His right shoulder was also bandaged and beneath the fabric was a blood splotch, almost in the shape of a flower. Then, he had remembered. He was running away from the lawmen, they were shooting at him; and he was hit in the shoulder. After that there was a pain in his head and then everything went black. The bullet must have grazed the side of his head and ear. Once Arthur had established what caused these wounds, he realized that his left eye was blurry. He closed the left eye and his vision was fine; when he did the opposite, his vision was blurry. There was even a ringing in his left year.

'I'm maimed!'

Frightened, Arthur looked around at his surroundings. He was indeed inside a cabin; it was warm and cozy, save for the bones hanging from the rafters. To his left was what appeared to be a storage area of barrels and shelves. The shelves held basic contents, such as bowls, cups, utensils, scissors and other household items. In the center of the far wall was the hearth, which had a nice fire going and a cauldron steaming with its cooked contents. Arthur's stomach growled despite the pain. All along the walls were animal pelts, and some bearskin rugs lie on the floor. In the middle of the room was a table with two sets of benches. To the far right corner there was a round wooden tub set upon some stones. Perhaps it was a bathtub? Arthur looked to the opposite wall where the front door was, which sported a rack of antlers used to hang powder horns. There was a window beside the door with the dark blue curtain drawn across it. All the way across the room was another window, this one without a curtain, and Arthur could see that it was night. How long had he been out?

Just then, the latch on the front door jiggled, cracked and lifted. Arthur stared at the door as it pushed open and in stepped a fur-clad person with an axe resting on their shoulder. The large person, who for a moment Arthur though could be a bear, closed the door and latched it shut once again. Arthur froze in place, staring at the large person as they slowly turned to him, their face covered from the nose down. All he could see were two violet eyes staring at him. Arthur held his breath, watching as the person placed the axe up on the wall on its holders, lowered their hood and removed the scarf to reveal a man. The man had silver blonde hair and a large nose, but wore a warm smile. His body was puffy from all the furs, leather, and weapons he had on him. Arthur swallowed hard.

"H-Hello." Arthur spoke, his voice trembling. "I'm Arthur. Who are you?"

The man removed the first brown fur cloak. "Ivan. I am Ivan Braginski."

"Braginski? That's Russian, right?"

Ivan nodded. "You don't speak like an American…so you must be British."

"Yes." Arthur gently touched the bandage around his ear. "Are you the one who helped me, then?"

Ivan smiled. "That I am. You were really hurt. It took me almost all of yesterday to fix you up properly."

Arthur's eyes widened. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days. I was wondering if you were going to wake up at all." Ivan chuckled. "So, how did you come to such harsh bullet wounds? Are you an outlaw?" Arthur chose to remain silent. "Hmm. I see. When I found you, you were wearing a fancy suit and a fur cloak that rich people wear. I'm guessing you are a…ah…big shot, in the city?" He smiled.

Arthur glanced at him. "Maybe."

"Uh oh!" He teased. "You must be in trouble then!"

'What's with this guy?' Arthur sneered. "While I'm grateful to you for nursing me back to health, somewhat, I'm not obligated to tell you about my background. However," he glared at Ivan "If you think of turning me in to the authorities, I suggest you don't." Ivan blinked, tilting his head to the side. "Once I'm…out of this problem, I can pay you nicely for your silence. All my accounts are on hold and well protected. Promise me your silence I will pay you well."

Ivan tapped his lip. "Pay me for my silence? Hmm…just what kind of businessman are you? How can I trust your words?"

Arthur sighed. "My name is Arthur Kirkland, Esquire."

Ivan clapped his hands and smiled. "Oh! Kirkland Lumber Industries, da?"

"Ah…yes? How did you know?"

"I got to the city sometimes to sell all my furs, pelts and bones. I wanted to build another storage hut and I went to your branch of sales." Ivan's features turned dark. "They wouldn't sell to me because I was not a resident of the city. You don't sell to us mountain men, so I had to cut down the trees and do all the work by myself."

Arthur gulped. "Um…I don't fully control what goes on in sales! I'm sorry that happened to you! But-but it wasn't hard for you right?" He laughed nervously. "I mean, a strong, strapping lad like you could easily cut down two trees with one swing, right?"

Ivan scratched his cheek. "I never tried that before. Hmmm." He thought for a moment and then smiled. "Ah, you must be hungry! The soup is almost done! I hope you like rabbit stew? Rabbits are my favorite. I love rabbits." He grinned and went over to the cauldron to stir it.

Arthur forced a smile and started to recognize all the different kinds of rabbit pelts on the walls. "So I've noticed." His head started to ache again, so he chose to lie back down under the pile of furs. "So…you live here alone?"

Ivan nodded. "Yes. My sisters have moved to the city. I don't know if they're still there; perhaps they moved somewhere else. My father went off on an exploring adventure and my mother died of fever. So it's only me." He ladled some of the stew into a clay bowl, added a spoon from the shelf and brought it over to Arthur. "You'll need to sit up to eat."

Arthur grumbled, having just gotten comfortable and now he had to sit back up. But the smell of the stew made his stomach ache with the need to fill it with warm food. Arthur thanked him and took the bowl, scooping up its contents to give them a gentle blow. He took a bite and savored the hearty flavor and the warmth as it trickled down his throat to pool in his empty belly. Arthur started to eat it greedily.

"There's plenty more if you'd like seconds." Ivan offered, getting up to make himself a bowl and sit at the table. "Don't get too comfortable, though. Now that you're awake we'll be sharing my bed."

Arthur spit out the soup.

Ivan laughed. "There's nothing to be ashamed about! We're both men."

"T-That's not the point!" Arthur hissed. "This bed is too small for both of us and…and you probably haven't bathed in months and are swarming with vermin in your hair! God only knows what's crawling around in those furs of yours!"

Ivan glared at him. "Vermin in my hair?" He stood up and walked over to Arthur, seeing the man cower slightly. "How dare you insult the man whom saved you from death. I could have left you to die out there in a cold, torn apart by bears while wolves gnawed on your bones." He gripped Arthur by the throat, grinning as the man's hands came up to try and relieve the pressure. "This isn't the fancy halls of your home in that quaint little mountain town where you're a big shot, fancy pants rich man."

"Let me go!" Arthur gasped as Ivan's hand squeezed harder.

"You will find no law here. The only law in this place is the law of the WOOD! There are no pet dogs here, only hungry wolves that sing you to sleep. There are no neighbors to tip your hat to; only bears that are searching for food in the snow."

"Unhand me!"

"Here you will find no general store to buy your food. You must hunt for it and let me tell you, hares and deer are swift." He smiled sweetly and removed his hand from Arthur's throat. The man's hands went to his throat to rub at the skin already spotted with red fingerprints. "These furs I'm wearing? Well, you'll have to wear them too if you do not wish to freeze to death. So you had better get used to this lifestyle, rich man. It will be your home for a little while."

"You're mad! Once I'm better I'm going back to my town!"

Ivan grinned. "Oh? Are you so quick to meet the hangman's noose?"

Arthur frowned, realizing that Ivan was right. He couldn't go back to his town for if he did he'd be arrested on the spot. Where else could he go? The next town was miles and days away. He would need a wagon to make it through the snow and he had no funds to pay for someone to guide him. To his horror, Arthur realized that he was going to be stuck with this man for a very, very long time, until he could think of a way out. Unless he got Ivan to be his guide? But would the solitary man do it if he asked? 'Probably not after the way I just insulted him.' He said to himself.

"I see." Ivan smiled. "Well then, it looks like you and I will become good friends!" He clapped happily. "Don't worry, I'll show you the ropes!"

"Ropes?" Arthur raised a brow.

"Yes! Once you are better, we'll go hunting and skin the pelts and chop the meat and chop the wood and fetch water and melt snow and pick berries and-"

"Wait…you don't expect me to do that stuff, do you?" Arthur had another spoonful of soup. "I'm sorry but I sell lumber. I don't CHOP it."

Ivan had that crazed smile again. "Ahhh…I see." He giggled and folded his hands behind his back, bending down to lean his face closer to Arthur's. "But there is no desk here. No counting book. No workers to pay while you sit back in your big comfy chair and smoke pipes." He tenderly pat Arthur on the head. "You'll learn quick! Now eat up before it gets cold. You still need to take your medicine."

"W-what medicine?"

"The pain medicine, of course! It helps the pain go away and makes you sleep. Sleep is what you need."

Arthur didn't like the idea of being drugged and sound asleep with this stranger by his side…and with that axe so close. He stared at the shining blade on the wall, along with many other sharp and blunt tools. Not to mention three shotguns. A mallet. Three different sized hacksaws. Large scissors. Various sized animal snare traps. Four hooks. A sickle. A pickaxe. A hoe. Two shovels. All in all, the place looked more like a hellhole of torture than a quaint mountain cabin. "Um…I'm fine right now, thanks. If it starts to hurt too much I'll let you know."

Ivan shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself, but you'll be sorry." He said 'sorry' in a sing-song voice.

Arthur just continued on eating his soup until the bowl was empty. He was too sleepy to want any more, so he placed the bowl on the floor and lay back in the bed. He rolled away from the sight of Ivan, hearing the man humming a soft tune by the fire. Arthur was afraid, but exhaustion was stronger than his fear and with the gentle lulling of Ivan's hum, he fell deep asleep.

Sometime later in the evening he woke up due to a throbbing pain in his head and shoulder. Ivan was right; he was sorry and should have taken the pain medicine, whatever it was. Slowly, he sat up in bed but that only helped add to the pain. The fire was still burning and Ivan was still awake. Arthur saw him in a rocking chair by the fireplace, knitting what appeared to be a scarf, or a sock? The man was wearing no furs, only a brown tunic shirt, pants, and fur boots. On his shoulders he had a knitted shawl draped over for warmth. For a second, Arthur could have sworn his Auntie Ruth was in the cabin with him and not a crazed mountain man. Was Ivan really KNITTING? That large bear-like brute of a bloated caveman could KNIT? Arthur knew how to knit, but he preferred needlework to knitting. Rubbing his aching head, he noticed that, aside from strings of bones up above there were also baskets. Woven baskets. Near the firewood rack was a small barrel of long dried reeds. Now the bear-man made baskets too? He was being nursed back to health by an old witch in a man's body! He froze when Ivan lifted his head to smile at him.

"You're awake. Feeling a little sore, are we?" Arthur just nodded. "Haha! Don't worry!" Ivan stood up, placing his knitting on the seat. "Ivan's Magical Miracle Potion will make you feel better!" He went to one of his shelves and took down a jar of what looked like dirt.

Arthur watched in silent agony as Ivan used a pot handle to lift a teakettle off the fire and pour some hot water into a ceramic cup. He sprinkled the dirt into the cup, swirled it around and then brought it over. Arthur wished to God that it would be tea. "What is it?"

"Ah, just a little herbal mixture I've learned to make when I was a child. My mother taught me." Ivan noticed Arthur staring down into the cup and he rolled he eyes. "Would you like some mint leaves to put in it?" Arthur nodded his head. Ivan went to the shelves and reached into another jar to take out two little green leaves. He dropped them into the cup. "There."

"Thank you." Arthur was hesitant at first to drink the tea mixture, but the pain in his body was making him abandon all thought. Blowing on it first, he sipped it gently. The warmth of the tangy liquid eased down his throat and he gave a shudder of delight.

"Are you cold? Can I get you another blanket?" Ivan offered.

"Yes, please." Arthur watched as the man went to a chest and took out another fur blanket to place over him. "It takes a lot to get me warm." Arthur said to him. "Especially if I don't have something on my feet."

Ivan clapped his hands. "I knew you would say that! So I took care of that already for you! Wait a moment! I'm almost done!"

Arthur continued to sip his tea as Ivan returned to his knitting, working at it with amazing speed. What was he making anyway? When Ivan had finished, he picked up another knitted item, brought them over to the bed, and tossed off the blanket at the foot of it. When Arthur's bare feet were exposed, his toes curled and tucked in. Before he could screech at Ivan not to touch him, Arthur noticed that what Ivan had been knitting was a pair of socks. Pink socks. The large man slipped them on Arthur's feet for him, and instantly, his feet were toasty. "You made these? For me?"

Ivan nodded "Do you like them?"

'I wouldn't have chosen pink…' he glanced at the axe on the wall. "I love them! Thank you, Ivan!" He finished the tea. "You like to do crafts?"

Ivan took the cup. "Yes! I like to make baskets and knit clothing and even do pottery! That's in the summer, though. I have a little tiny hut behind my cabin with my wood working table, tools and the potter's wheel. I'll have to take you there some time."

Arthur stared at the man's back as he went over to tend the fire. Ivan was a very crafty man, aside from being so brutish and forest crazy. As Ivan bent over to get another piece of firewood, Arthur's business mind (despite the pain) turned the man's body into a large dollar sign. He could very easily open up a specialty craft shop in one of the big cities in the east, change his name and make a living again with Ivan's talents. The man could weave baskets, making things out of wood, knit quickly, mold pottery and make herbal mixtures. Ivan wasn't the only one crafty, though! Arthur knew how to make soaps and lotions, even scented water! He could embroider too! Together they could have a quaint and quiet little business far away from the law. Arthur had a friend in the east, a French baker, who could help them open shop. But there was still the issue of finding a way to make Ivan agree to all of this. He and Ivan came from two different worlds; the Russian bear just may not want to leave his. Arthur had no choice, he would have to leave the state and make off to a new city if he were going to live again. He'd be damned if he was going to live out here in the middle of nowhere with his closest neighbor being a grizzly.

Soon, his vision began to blur and the pain started to grow numb in his head and shoulder. Without a word, Arthur settled down under the blankets, wiggled his toes in the socks and cuddled his cheek in the fur pillows. A second before he could fall asleep, there came an added weight on the bed. There was the lift of a sheet and blanket. Arthur's green eyes slowly grew wide. A large (thankfully clothed) Russian was suddenly nestled under the covers beside him. The bed was able to fit them both, but it was still a little snug for Ivan's size plus his own. Arthur was thankful he had the foresight to turn away before Ivan could slip into bed with him. Would the man try anything? Ivan was all alone out here with nothing but deer, bears and wolves for company; and Arthur was highly vulnerable in this wounded state. If Ivan's life consisted of chopping wood, slaughtering and hunting animals and shoveling snow, the man's hands alone could probably snap him.

'Don't move, Arthur. Don't make a sound. He thinks you're asleep. Don't roll into him. Don't bump into him! Don't give him any ideas! Go for the eyes and bite the ear!'

"Night!"

If he had been a cat, then Arthur would be clinging to the ceiling above them. 'Heaven help me!'

End Chapter 1 TBC