Ever since the snow //L.S//

Chapter two

Max is growling and barking at the connecting door leading into the hallway, tail held high; as if his life depends on it. Usually Harry's dog is very friendly and cheerful, but that doesn't mean he can't become vigilant and protective when something smells off. 

'Hush big boy, you woke me up!' Harry shouts from underneath the blankets. 'It's just the wind. You're not gonna scare it off that easily, might as well give it a rest.' But Max can't let it go and keeps barking insistently with his sharp eyes glued to the door.

'Shit, 's cold.' With a blanket tied to a knot around his neck, Harry gets off the couch. He wants to take a quick look to see what his dog is all about, just to be on the safe side, just to be sure.

'What is it boy, there's nothing out there, but the storm!' He pets the dog on the head, hoping his familiar touch will serve in soothing his canine's nerves, but the dog will not leave the door unguarded. In an attempt to set Max's mind at rest Harry opens it and lets him wander into the bone chilling hallway.

'See? There's nothin' there!' The dog nudges the front door and sits down on the mat, next to Harry's snow boots, nose in the air, sniffing heavily.

'Alright, let me check.' Harry briefly glances out the small circular window in the door, but there is nothing else to see but white powdery snow, coming down as if the world is an old fashioned television set that has just lost reception.

'Come on you fool, let's have some coffee,' Harry whispers to his dog, as he puts on slippers and gently pushes Max back into the living room, closing the door behind them.

With the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the kitchen, Harry returns to his bed. Rainbow mug in hand, carefully taking tiny, tiny sips, making sure not to burn his tongue.

'There's nothing like a good morning coffee,' he mumbles, as he digs himself back into the pile of blankets, enjoying the routine of waking up slowly. While he has never been one to get up early, he is neither to be found between the sheets after the crack of noon. Except during blizzards, they truly are the exception to the rule. Usually Harry likes to get up at nine or ten, have his morning coffee, walk Max, take a shower and have some food. Catch up on some reading, or when inspired work on his writings.

Max mooches the connecting door again and he softly whines, he sounds worried, hurt even, but Harry no longer pays attention to his dog's warning signs.

Lost in deep thought on the progress of his book and self doubting his writing skills once again, Harry is severely scared up by two loud knocks on the front door.

Peculiar... Who could be out there, this high up the mountain, in the middle of a blizzard? It's almost impossible, how can there be someone at the door? It's only been a few days, has he gone mental already?


'Max, get on the couch. And stay!' Harry wants his silly dog out of the way before he checks out who is at their door. Just in case Max might do something stupid, out of fear or vigilance and Harry surely doesn't want him running off into the blizzard on his own. He opens the connecting door and just to be sure, he grabs a lead pipe out of the pantry in the hallway; he is not about to smash in someone's head, but he has the feeling something smells fishy all the same. Nobody in his right mind would come all the way up to his cabin in these weather conditions, it doesn't make any sense.

'Who's there... What do you want?' Harry says, in a loud woody voice through the front door, the pipe clutched in his right hand.

'Help... Please...' The stranger's fragile voice dies off in the howling wind ravaging the cabin without cease.

A few beats pass, Harry isn't quite sure what to do, at first he hesitates; he is not a fan of unexpected events, so he needs a moment to debate his actions. He decides to open his front door; on this mountain, when in need, people always help each other out, he tells himself.