Witch of the Wild Woods

Chapter 11 - I'm a Wheel

Chapter 11 - I'm a Wheel

After two lackluster cups of black coffee, Lane had dressed out and wandered back to the rear deck of the Great Lodge. He'd worn what had recently become his standard adventuring outfit; black Timberlands, a pair of grey cargo pants, a faded red cotton shirt, navy blue vest, and his lucky ball cap with the lambda symbol accented by the Roman Numeral 'III' sewn on the front. He needed a moment alone to gather his thoughts. He may have been mentally uncomfortable with his experiences in the last twelve hours, at he was at least physically comfortable in his attire. 

This was far from the relaxing vacation he'd been promised. 

This had become yet another job. Or, perhaps he was thinking too hard about it? His brain churned over what average people considered 'normal' and struggled to find a baseline.

A mountain resort?

Watching the sunrise over a calm lake?

Spending time with a beloved sibling?

Sure. All of those elements were present. Unfortunately, those bits of objective calm and peace had been increasingly outweighed by a pile of bizarre happenstances. The omens were new, but not out of their wheelhouse. Usually the supernatural didn't telegraph its arrival. There was some thin silver lining in being able to anticipate something strange headed their way. Whatever they encountered, Lane and Luna would be more prepared than most. 

On top of the tiresome re-occurrence of the occult , there was the larger social drama at hand too; a tangibly volatile web of interpersonal relationships that manifested in a twilight orgy in the bathhouse. Sex was fun. Sure. The tension in that sauna however was thick enough to cut with a hatchet. Even as hostile as their new social situation would be to navigate, that wasn't the existential crisis that plagued Lane as the new sun cleared the horizon.

Alice wanted Lane. Desperately. Or, so it would appear. Whether or not there were some invisible strings attached to that offer wasn't Lane's biggest concern. Instead, he had to grapple with the results of what happened when he tried to help someone with the best of intentions. 

Jordan resented Lane. Hate may not have been too far off the mark either. Even when acting in good faith, helping Jordan's grandfather pass on, that encounter had left her scarred. What's more, Lane had failed to be there for her when that wound had been freshly opened again, and again by her peers.

Now there was someone else who sought Lane's help. Would the result be the same? Would he only be mending a temporary problem while the resulting trauma would continue to plague the recipient of Lane's so-called help? Doubt was a terrible thing to fester in Lane's mind, and yet, he could feel those barred roots start to borrow deeper into his brain.

"Brother, I've found you. Finally," Luna panted out. She added her sly smile with a thousand meanings behind it: impossible to decipher at a glance.

Lane leaned against the railing and turned as his sister approached him from across the deck. She wore a tight, hunter green v-neck cotton shirt, and a pair of low rise khaki shorts. She'd kept the well-worn pair of hiking boots Lane had gifted her last year over a thick pair of knee-high socks with bear prints on the kneecaps. She looked like a ray of sunshine skipping toward him.

Raising his third cup of coffee off the deck rail, Lane asked, "Did you get any sleep?"

Luna gently took the cup from Lane, downed the contents in a single gulp, and shook her head, "Nope." She wiped her mouth as a Cheshire grin appeared across her face, "Pretty sure a certain somebody will be a little sore getting up this morning too."

Lane wretched, "Not Brad?"

Implausibly, Luna grinned wider; "Prison rules apply to most standard social situations; find the biggest dog in the yard, shank 'em, and you become the biggest dog."