The reality of cold was harder to take than the idea of it. The shocking chill hit you the instant you climbed out of your oven-hot car.
You almost turned your ankle on the snow. There was over a foot of it covering the ground. You hadn't been able to see the driveway coming in. Then again, you guessed that anywhere not thick with trees was probably road. That assumption hadn't been proven wrong yet.
Maybe you should have worn your boots right from the get-go, rather than your comfy, shearling moccasins. Your reasoning that it would be harder to drive in thick rubber boots still stood, though.
And God knows you had a long drive behind you. It took you four full days of driving to get here. At the end of each day, you wanted to bang your head against the steering wheel. You really should have just taken a flight.
But even if you had flown, you would still have had to do some driving. Only big cities were equipped with airports, after all. So you would have had to rent a car, a liability on four wheels.
No, no, the cross-country trip was obviously the best choice. Plus, now you had a car you could pack up in case your grandmother's house contained some hidden treasures you wanted to save instead of sell.
Speaking of the house...
Once you had steadied yourself, you turned to look at it, while it was still illuminated by your headlights. The snowfall was so heavy and the cloud your breath made so thick that it was like looking through a pane of old glass.
Your mother described it as a log cabin straight out of The Evil Dead, but it looked like more of an innocent ranch house. In another reality, you imagined she may want to rent it out to tourists as a cozy winter lodge.
But this place harbored too many bad memories to even consider keeping in the family. It was your job to go through and then get rid of it.
You were mainly doing this as a favor for your mother, but you stood to profit as well. Every penny --from the sale of the house to everything in it-- was going to you.
You'd be lying if you said the money wasn't your only motivation, however. The holidays were always a tense time of year in your house. Had been ever since your father left...
With that cheery thought, the headlights went off and left you in the darkness. It made you shiver, and not just from the cold.
You fumbled your phone out of your pocket, nearly dropping it twice before you finally managed to switch on the flashlight function. You'd only been outside for a couple of minutes and your fingers were already numb from the cold.
It wouldn't be much use to you. No wifi, no service, nothing! Not all the way out here, anyhow.
Based on your mother's brief before you left, the electricity should still be on. You needed to turn on the water and gas valves before the place would be livable, though.
The front door lock was sticky, but brute strength was persuasive in a way a simple key wasn't.
Nothing could have prepared you for the odor that hit you square in the nose the second you stepped inside. You heard that scents were less perceptible in a colder environment. If that was true, the odor would only get worse as the place warmed up.
The air inside was stale and dank. As much as you wanted to air the place out, that was sort of impossible, given the weather. Hopefully the smell was an indication that the place was well-insulated and wouldn't lose too much heat.
Look on the bright side! At least it didn't have that old person smell.
You didn't have any memories of your maternal grandmother. Hell, you didn't even know she was still alive until, well, she wasn't anymore.
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The Work of Wolves || Yandere!Werewolf X F!Reader
Horror"People should be judged not by their outward demeanor but by their works, for many in sheep's clothing do the work of wolves." Based on Mr Wolf, What Time Is It?