Unbound

Chapter 45

It would be a number of days before I felt comfortable broaching the subject of the blades again. The blizzard had kept Emma and I couped up inside her house as walls of snow pounded the settlement and the winds whipped relentlessly down the narrow streets. She ventured out once or twice to deliver food to an ailing neighbor, but I was content to watch it through the windows. I worked on building trust: we played card games and cooked together. Using some of her herbs, I pulled together a simple remedy to help ease her neighbor's cough. I left out the fact that it was wolf medicine.

On my fourth day in Trout Creek, the snow finally ceased. The sun broke through the clouds, reflecting brilliantly on the fresh blanket of white. I awoke to the sound of a plow scraping pavement, clearing the road in front of the house. Emma had been up since dawn and handed me a heavy winter coat when I descended the stairs.

"Come with me," she said. "I can finally take you on a tour of our community."

The residential side of the settlement was larger than I expected. Two streets were lined with small homes, all with trails of smoke puffing out of their chimneys into the cold air. The largest of them were constructed from the same deep crimson bricks as the buildings on the main street. My favorites, though, were the tiny log-cabin style homes tucked into the pines at the very end of the street.

Despite the feet of snow on the ground, Trout Creek's main street was already bustling with activity. Community members had all emerged with shovels, ready to dig out the sidewalks while the plow snaked up and down the block.

As we followed the cleared paths, wading through thigh-deep snow drifts in between, I couldn't help but notice the friendly nods exchanged between neighbors. The residents greeted each other with genuine warmth, their laughter and chatter punctuating the quiet morning. Emma glowed with pride as she toured me around as though she was seeing her community for the first time, through my fresh eyes. It was idyllic in a way I thought existed only in movies.

Emma pointed out the various buildings that dotted the main street, showcasing the town's essential services. The guard station I recognized, sandwiched between a prominent town hall and a bakery. Further on, their own clinic and pharmacy was marked with a neon red cross sign that had long since burned out. There was a church, a small library, and a meager grocery store just beyond.

Trout Creek as a whole was simple and sturdy, standing as a testament to years of resilience against all of the harsh blizzards that came before this one, and the hundreds that would likely follow. The weariness that showed in cracked brick facades and peeling paint was different from that of the apartment I'd been put in when I arrived at the Castle Pack. Here, it felt like a favorite sweater, or an old pair of work boots: dependable. Well-loved.

"It's beautiful here," I said truthfully. For a moment, just one brief moment, I thought that I could almost picture myself making a life in Trout Creek.

"It's been hard," Emma admitted. "But we do well with what we have. Just up there's the foundry, I thought you might like to drop your gift off yourself." She shook the satchel hanging off her shoulder and the silverware rattled inside.

I was losing sight of my goal, but the sound brought me back. "I'd like that, thanks."

The building sat atop a hill, a safe distance away from the rest of the settlement. Along with the foundry, it housed the settlement's lumber and grain stores and had a large space in the front for woodworking. When we entered, a man was carefully sanding down the spindles of a rocking chair. I stopped to admire it for a moment in a bid to catch my breath. It wasn't a large hill, but the walk had me surprisingly winded. I pressed a hand to my stomach where a dull ache was building and shook off the fatigue before hurrying after Emma.