The Moose, the Tree, and the Irish Writer

He was mesmerized by the way the morning light filtered through the trees. Yes this was the lighting he had wanted. He needed to get this shot, he had been thinking about it for ages. He finally had found the time to do this.

Click, Click, Click, Click. There he had it...then he d sod something rustling in the leaves. He turned in time to see a Bull Moose step into the ditch just before the main highway. The man turned and began clicking away again. Not something you see everyday...though more often here than anywhere else he thought. Then he saw the moose stepping into the road, about that time a red Jeep Cherokee came around the curve. It wasn't going very fast, and the person reacted to the moose. The man watched helplessly as tires squalled and the Jeep ran off the road, into the ditch, and straight into the biggest tree on that side of the road. The moose just swished its tail and continued across the road like it happened everyday.

He swore. "Shit, shit, shit...you definitely don't see that everyday!" He said it as he ran toward the Jeep, which had steam coming out of the engine from the smashed radiator. When he got to the door and swung it open he stopped for a few seconds. All he saw was a deflating ag aag and auburn curls surrounding a very fairy like face with a tiny up turned nose with a light dusting of just a few soft freckles.

"Miss, Miss, are you ok?" He asked trying to get her to wake up. He thought maybe she had passed out or was knocked unconscious because her eyes were closed and her head was down.

She shook she wasn't passed out and the man realized she was laughing. Hysterical probably he thought and then she looked up at him, that's when his world tilted. "What the bloody hell was that?"

She had a beautiful lilting Irish accent that caused the man to smile despite the situation. Then he saw her eyes...they were emerald...Christ no that can't be. No one had emerald eyes...yes green, maybe even very green but emerald...had to be a trick of the light or they are dilated...from a concussion more likely he thought.

"It was a moose." He said softly. "Miss, are you alright, do I need to call an ambulance?"

"No, I am fine, the seat belt did its job as did the bloody air bag... I suppose I will feel it later though." She said looking over the hood that was crumpled up in front of her.

"You sure? Perhaps I should call the police, an ambulance, do you need to call family, your husband?" He didn't understand why he was babbling, normally he was calm but he had never witnessed a crash quite like this before...and right in front of his own driveway! Not to mention the heavenly Irish princess that was in that crashed car.

She began to laugh again and pushed her curls out of her face. "Let's see, police...what are they gona' write the moose a ticket? Not very likely I should think, and I don't need an ambulance, I am fine, and my family are in Ireland, and I don't have a husband so I should think he wouldn't need to be called."

The man began to laugh at her response. She was definitely keeping her sense of humor, perhaps she was all right either that or she was loosing her mind.

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head?" He asked reaching toward her face to turn her toward him again.

She turned without him having to touch her and she smiled again. His world seemed to tilt again...yes she had emerald eyes...and that smile. He was a published poet and all he could think of was "wow".

"Yes...I am really fine. Just need to get out is all." She said reaching down to the seat belt buckle. She pushed it and tried again. "Damn...ummm it's stuck."

"What?" He asked.

"The seat belt is stuck." She responded.

"Oh, I have a knife hang on a sec." He went back to his camera bag and dug out his knife that he kept in there for emergencies or whatever. He hardly ever used it but was glad he had it now.

"Fancy that...so prepared." She murmured to herself as she watched the handsome man with sandy blonde hair bound back to a bag he had left by the road. She wondered what the hell he was doing out there on the side of the road and then she worried, what if he was some weirdo hitchhiker...just what she needed. Besides why would he have a knife? Oh God this could be bad...very bad.

When he came back he showed the knife to her as if worried it might scare her. "I uh I keep it in my camera bag for emergencies. Have only ever used it to cut string a few years ago in New Zealand and to pry open a broken trailer door in Montana last year so hope it's sharp enough."

She just nodded; he traveled all the way to New Zealand, hmm well most weirdo hitchhikers wouldn't be so well traveled. Plus she didn't think a man who looked like him would be dangerous, at least not in that way anyhow.

His blue gray eyes flickered to hers and he said softly "I am going to slide the flat of the blade here just under the strap so don't move, I don't want to accidentally poke you with it."

She sucked in a breath and waited while he nudged the knife under the belt and over her thick sweater. Then he twisted the knife so the blade was against the seat belt and pulled. The belt cut in two with a whooshing sound and she let loose the breath she had been holding. Then she looked down as he slid the knife between the seat and the lap belt cutting it in two as well. She quickly turned and jumped out of the Jeep and then realized her legs weren't as steady as she had thought they were.

The man reached out and grabbed her arms to keep her from falling. She fell against his chest and breathed in his scent...ooo he was just as handsome up close. He smelled of sandalwood...such a nice scent. Nice strongly muscled chest and arms, it was like one of her characters had just stepped off the page and into her own life. Then she straightened herself and stood up.

"Sorry...guess my legs were not quite ready for standing yet." She ed ued up at him. He was tall but compared to her five foot nothing frame most people were.

She practically fell into his arms. He thought, God she is gorgeous and her hair...oh it feels like silk against my chin and neck and mmm it smells like wild flowers. When she pulled back his arms almost wanted to protest and hold her close again. The next thought struck him...she was an Irish fairy, tiny probably no more than five feet tall...adorable little woman. He thought.

"'s 's alright...umm town is still twenty miles away. Do you have a cell phone?" He asked.

How could she tell him she had gotten mad at her agent and threw it out the window somewhere in Nevada? So she just shook her head. "No, I don't."

"Well at the risk of sounding like some kind of bad guy in a horror movie...would you like to come back to my place and we can call a tow truck?" He invited.

She laughed. "A tow truck, yes, and I need to call my insurance company." She said nodding her head. "Oh I need to grab some things out of the Jeep though."

"Sure." He said putting his knife back into the camera bag and then gathering it up.

She climbed back into the Jeep and came back out with a purse, another bag, and a backpack.

"Before I go to your house, what is your name?" She asked as she turned back to him.

"Oh, sorry, my name is Viggo Mortensen." He responded.

"Great to meet you Viggo, though I would have preferred other circumstances. My name is Tabitha O'shea but you can call me Tabby." She said smiling at him.

Viggo smiled. "Tabby...like a cat." Fitting he thought with those huge green eyes.

She laughed despite herself. She got that all the time, but from him in that oddly inflected American accent it sounded entirely different.

"Yes...exactly...now lead on kind sir...I am getting quite cold out here. Is it always this cold in September?" She asked smiling at him.

“No not normally but this year has been quite cool.” He said waving one of his hands.