The Alpha Twins and their Runaway Witch

5

The door to the log cabin opened easily, the heavy iron latch shed a fine dusting of rust as parts that hadn't moved in a while ground against each other. The door opened out, revealing a second door, with a rounded brass knob, which turned easily. She needed to butt against the inner door with her shoulder to get the wooden door to swing open, the little force she could muster was enough to get into the inner sanctum of the small home.

The air smelled stale and dusty. But not dirty or foul. Aside from the coating of dust apparent on everything, the home was pristine. A single open room. Oil lamps on tables, oil resevoirs filled, and wicks all neatly trimmed. Waiting to be needed. Exceptionally dry logs were stacked by the large fireplace and in the kitchen area next to a small black cooking stove with a tiny oven compartment. Cast iron cookware hung neatly on the wall ready to be used.

What must have once been a vibrant red and white checked table cloth was carefully draped over the kitchen table with two chairs neatly tucked in. There was a sink built into a row of butcher block counter top with storage shelves underneath. A small collection of pottery and glassware carefully put away on the shelves among storage baskets and wooden boxes. She went towards the sink. There was a heavy looking black hand water pump with a spout aimed to pour into the sink basin.

Grabbing for the handle with both hands she pumped the crank down. The gears were stiff, but they moved. She tried to be optimistic. A bad habit she still hadn't managed to shake. Pumping the handle up and down a few times before she heard a bubbling gurgling sound reverberate from deep in the pipes. Pumping harder and faster. First there was a terrible smell as stagnant air and water were forced up through pipes that had not been used in a long time.

A red-brown sludge poured into the sink. She was almost ready to quit trying when the water started to run clearer and clearer, washing the sludge down the drain. She kept the handle moving up and down until she was sweating with the exertion.

She reached under the counter top, grabbing one of the heavy pottery mugs and filling it with the clear water. Looking at the water carefully angling the mug so the light from the window was shining into the pottery. It looked clear and smelled ok, if a little minerally. She took a hesitant sip. It tasted like nirvana on her parched tongue.

She drank and refilled the glass three times. Her belly feeling bloated as the large volume of water sloshed around as she continued to explore. The kitchen was along one wall. There was a chesterfield facing the fireplace, and a rustic coffee table with an antique bible placed on a delicate crocheted doily on the center of the table, a set chess board to the left.

There was a bed to the far side of the home from the kitchen. A once bold and colourful quilt spread over the bed. The pattern looked like flowers and stars. Someone had spent hours carefully cutting the fabric into the pattern pieces and using small precise hand stitches to sew it all together.

There was a knit blanket hung over the back of the couch, and embroidered pillows to match. This was a home someone had loved. She went to the wooden wardrobe struck by the smell of cedar as she opened the double doors finding a handful of clothes hung inside. A few thin dresses to one side, a mens jacket, two pairs of pants, two mens button up shirts, and a pair of overalls.

A couple of mens undershirts, womens slips, and several knit socks were folded in baskets inside the wardrobe. She had nearly squealed in glee. Stripping off her still damp feeling clothes that smelled of pond scum, putting on the large mens shirt and overalls. Happily pulling on the warm knit socks. There was a small box that held ancient looking identification and SIN cards. Roger and Maude Hunt. Giving her names for those she was grateful to. Feeling dry for the first time today.

She was going to feel warm next. Checking the fireplace, she didn't see any flue control or valve, there was already a strong updraft she could feel next to the fireplace. She hoped it was clear. She hadn't ever been much for outdoorsy skills or fire making. Trying to mimic what she had seen in movies and tv shows as she stacked logs in the large fireplace.

A wooden box of matches at the ready by the fireplace. She opened the box, grabbed a match stick and said a little prayer as she struck the head of the match against the striker panel. Squealing as a bright orange flame burst to life, the smell of sulphur better than any flower.

She nudged the matchstick into the centre of her pile of logs, smiling broadly as the papery bark of the birch log caught the flame. The orange glow growing larger and larger. She watched the flames lick and creep from log to log, sitting back and basking in the light and heat of the fire she had made all by herself.

Once she felt warm all the way through. She added an extra log to the crackling fire for good measure. She grabbed a couple logs from the stack to fill the cook stove, arranging them in the little pot belly stove, using another match, she got a second fire burning. She filled all the pots with water and set them to boil on the stove to warm. There was a wooden bath, with a laundry board. Next to a lidded bit of crockery painted with a label indicating it was laundry soap.

She had also seen waxed paper wrapped blocks of soap under the sink, and was considering the possibility of having a bath tonight. While she was pumping water into a skillet she planned to leave on the hearth of the fireplace to warm, the Raven knocked it's beak against the irregular glass of the window over the sink.

She had screamed, loudly. Dropping the almost full skillet of water to the floor, water splashing every where as the raven knocked again. She undid the latch for the window and the raven flew in, landing on the back of one of the dining table chairs. Cawing at her as she closed the window. "I hope you don't poop on anything in here." She said, it was quite clean in here, she felt like she was intruding on ghosts. She didn't want to be the reason this home was ruined. She carefully mopped up the spilled water with one of the three towels under the sink.

The raven cawed again, flying to a window behind the bed, taping on the glass and flying back to its perch of choice. When she didn't move, the raven repeated its motions exactly.

"Ok ok, I'm coming." She told the bird aloud. Going to look out the window to the back of the home and finding several apple trees heavy with ripe red fruit and an overgrown unweeded garden. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of the apples and hope for other veggies hidden in the weeds.

Putting on a pair of uncomfortable wooden clogs that had been by the door, she went and gathered an armful of apples, dropping them on the dining room table before returning to the garden, joyously digging in the cold ground to unearth several fat potatoes from the ground.

Practically giddy with the harvest of fresh food, she was nearly skipping back to the house. Washing the potatoes under the pumped water, stabbing the skin a few times with a fork before placing the potatoes into the small oven compartment of the kitchen wood stove.

Knowing the potatoes would take time to bake, she grabbed an apple to start to satisfy her hungry belly. Waiting until her pots were warmed, she poured them all one after the other into the large wooden wash basin. Filling them all back up and putting them back to warm. Washing her jeans, flannel, her tank top, bra and underwear against the washboard with the harsh laundry soap flakes.  Last dunking her shoes into the tub and scrubbing the green algae off the canvas.

She did her best to wring all the water she could from her clothes, shaking what she could from her shoes. Arranging everything in front of the fireplace on the two wooden chairs. The raven reluctantly giving up his perch on the chair in favour of an empty coat rack by the front door.

She wasn't strong enough to lift the bath, instead she managed to shove and lug the bath across the floor to the door, tipping the laundry soap filled water out the door. Giving her a chance to refill with cleaner water when the second round water had a chance to warm.

Dragging the washtub to be directly in front of her roaring fire, she refilled the bath and felt positively luxurious as she washed her body and hair in the warm water while eating crunchy apples.

After her bath the potatoes were cooked and a plain jacket potato had never once tasted so good. Finishing the process of warming her tired body inside and out. She was clean, well fed, hydrated, and warm. So many comforts all at once. She crawled into the slightly dusty bed, naked. Warm, clean, better fed than she had been in days. Falling deeply asleep with a smile on her face. Today had been one of the best days she had enjoyed in years.