The Lady of Waterleaf and Wire

New Beginnings

They walked all day and turned southward the next. They continued long into the night on the second day, finally settling beneath a maple for the night. The third day brought luck. At sunhigh, Rose and John stumbled upon a little clearing with a meadow beside it. Camas grew wild in the field and berries ripened around the clearing. In one corner of the glade, a black willow rose high above the other trees.

"This could be home, Rose!" John exclaimed at the sight. He drew his axe from the cart of supplies they'd brought with him. "It suits our needs. A meadow and a clearing to build shelter. Near the woods, too! We crossed a creek a little ways back, we'll have water. What do you say?"
Rose exhaled. "It feels like home to me."

"Then we're home." John swung the axe across the base of a pine sapling and chopped the young tree into quarters. "One for each corner of our land," he said. He pounded the stakes and Rose leaned against a nearby fir.

"We'll need firewood," he said in elation. "And logs to build a cabin. Grasses to dry for a makeshift mattress. If we start now, at least we might have shelter by the time the rainy season rolls around. We should get to work."

"I'll find some wood for a fire," Rose offered.

John dropped his axe and took her hands in his. "I know this is all new. But we can do it. I know we can."

"I'm sure," she told him, uncertainly.

By the end of the day, Rose had gathered plenty of wood for fire. Enough, she hoped, to last a few days. She laid the wood under a tall cedar to keep it dry. John had felled a tall evergreen and stripped it of its bark. He split it into long logs and laid it in the sun to dry. In the evening, they staked up a cloth for a makeshift tent and roasted a rabbit Rose had shot over their fire.

For weeks, they followed this routine, with Rose helping to strip bark, hunt, or dig a foundation for the cabin when they had firewood in abundance. She hung herbs to dry in tree branches and salted meat to preserve it. At night, they'd sit beside the fire and John would sing his mother's old lullabies.

As weeks passed before their eyes, John's hunts became less successful and the temperatures began to drop in the evenings. Still, in just four weeks, they'd raised a cabin up from nothing. Flat rocks held the foundation, logs made the walls and roof, and they'd sealed the cracks with mud. A stone fireplace sat at one end of the cabin to keep them warm. It was moderately furnished, with two wobbly chairs, an equally wobbly table and a mattress made of anything that was available, grass and moss mostly. It wasn't perfect, but it was home and John beamed with pride when he sat beside his wife on their tiny porch.

The cabin had hardly been finished by the time the rain began to fall. Rose woke to a flash of lightning. John muttered something in his sleep. She laid back down in bed. A boom of thunder shook the walls. She stared at the roof, praying it would keep them safe and dry. John woke in a cold sweat.

"John?" His breathing was heavy. "Go back to sleep, my love," Rose told him. "It's only a storm."

"No... no. Rose..." he moaned, his eyes wide. "We... need to get out of here. Rose..."

"Hush." She pulled her blankets around him. "We're safe inside."
"No we aren't. No. No!" His voice broke with a gasp and he sobbed. "Rose! Can't you hear the creaking? The branches... the trees will fall and... and... this time... this time there's nowhere to run."

"John, there's no sound but the rain. We're safe. I know you're scared, but we're okay. We're okay, love." She held him and he quieted, letting her embrace comfort him.

The thunder grew more distant and John breathing steadied. "I'm sorry," he told his wife. "It just... this reminds me of..."

"You were all alone then, John. You were sixteen and afraid. You were lost in the woods. You're not alone now, you're not lost. You have a roof over your head and your wife at your side. You're safe."