Solitude

8| Splinter

Y/N's Pov

"I'm going to get a few logs from outside!" 

"Don't take too long, the wind is picking up," Wanda calls out from the living room.

Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you stomp around the cabin. Behind it is a woodpile that is big enough to bring you through the next few days without the need to cut some more by yourself. Grabbing a few logs, you place them inside the basket that is placed right next to you. The nights are growing colder and the cool air finds its way inside your cozy home through the walls. 

Lost in thought, you don't pay attention to the wood. You move on autopilot, reaching for the logs and placing them inside the container. A slight pain pierces through your finger, letting you halt immediately. Hissing quietly, you clench your teeth together as you let the log fall into the basket.

Narrowing your eyes, you hold up your forefinger and inspect it in the dim light of the moon. In the shadows of the night, you can make out the splinter underneath the thin layer of skin. 

"Good job, y/n." You mutter to yourself.

With furrowed brows, you walk back to the cabin with the basket in your arms. The wind blows through your hair, letting it dance in the wind. Rushing through the door, you lean your back against the closed door. The spot on your finger pounds with the erratic beat of your heart. 

"There you are." 

You tilt up your head. With a glass of wine in her hand, she looks you up and down. Holding a bit tighter on the basket, you suppress a whine as your finger throbs with pain. Wanda musters you with a serious expression, watching you lean against the door. 

"Are you okay?" She asks. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah…yes, everything is fine." You give her an uplifting smile and hold up the basket. "Let's start the fire. I'm getting cold."

Without any protests or further investigations, Wanda nods and walks inside the living room. You follow her quietly, making sure to not put pressure on your forefinger. Kneeling in front of the fireplace, you rip apart some papers and start making the fire. 

Wanda stands beside you, watching your movements with careful eyes as if she is afraid that you'll do something wrong. Does she think I'll burn the cabin down with her in it? Maybe. Her eyes pierce through your back. Taking a sip of her wine, she moves a few feet away as you give her a side-eyeing look. 

Blowing some air into the small flame, it quickly grows into a bigger fire. You throw two thick logs into the fireplace. A few sparks dance in the air, cozy warmth already radiating from the spot. Using the light to inspect your finger further, you can see the thin wooden splinter better underneath the skin. This can't be that hard to get it out. 

You can't help the groan escaping your throat. How can such a tiny thing hurt so much? Subconsciously, you grasp your finger between your palm. At the sound of discomfort, she places her glass back on the table.

Wanda looks down at the finger that you hold into your fist. "Show me."

Shaking your head, you walk past her. "It's nothing."

She places her hands on her hips. "Let me be the judge of that."

She is stubborn. A personality trait you figured out in the first five minutes of meeting her. You shrug your shoulders in defeat. She doesn't ask permission as her hand reaches for your finger, holding it into the light.

"Did you want to let it stay there and not tell me? This could get infected." 

"I tried, but it's not working." You show her the unmoving splinter, your fingernail digging into the skin to push it out. "See?"