Flames of the Forgotten

Chapter Thirty-One

"Come on, baby. We've got to get up," Jax whispers into my ear, and then the weight shifts from the bed as he gets up. 

"Ten more minutes," I whine, fumbling blindly for him. "Get back here, babe! I need my pillow- pal."

"We've already had ten more minutes. We have to get to the creek, and the earlier we go, the better."

"I know," I grumble as I sit up. It's still dark as night, but our fireplace dimly lights the cabin. I see Jackson tinkering with something on the stovetop. His back and all those awful scars face me.

"What are you doing?"

"Making oatmeal. This is going to be the last of it."

"Shit."  Our luck at the entrace hut ran out fast, and we came up empty every day last week. Luckily, the traps resulted in some small game, and the stew lasted over three days. But the lack of fresh meat has caused us to rely heavily on our dry items. We're now down to a few servings of rice, maybe five servings of beans, and two cans of soup.

Eating more has helped the lightheaded, dizzy feelings I was getting, but I haven't gained any weight, and neither has Jax.

We need fat badly. The little bit of goose fat we're adding to the stew just isn't enough, and the small game and the venison are very low in fat. We need to fish and catch a lot so we can make a big fish stew and also have a bunch of it to smoke, but to do so, we have to face the threat of the wolves and go to the creek. The pond hasn't been lucky, and the creek has spots where the water still flows and hasn't frozen, making ice fishing much more accessible.

We decided the earlier, the better since wolves are known to hunt at night. We aren't going to stay out too long, but we will base ourselves at the creek cabin for a few days. That way, we can get up and fish early, and later in the day, we can hunt safely from the roof. Hopefully, after a few days, we can come home with a lot of fish and some meat.

Begrudgingly, I pull myself out of bed, letting out one long yawn as I rummage through my clothes for the cleanest items to wear.  Everything needs a wash again. It's so difficult in the winter, but we're bringing the boat and the sled with us to the creek cabin in hopes that we get lucky enough to need them both, and since we'll have the boat, I'm going to wash all our clothes outside over a fire that we can set the boat over.

I slide into a pair of baggy jeans, pull on a flannel on, and then join Jax at the table. As I sit, he pushes the pan of oatmeal towards me.

"Do you even eat any?" I question as I arch an eyebrow.

"I had enough. Finish it up, and I'll get us packed and ready." He leaves the cabin with our guns and a bag of tools before I can argue or force him to eat more. Typical Jackson, and as much as it touches me that he always puts me first, it worries me, too. He needs the calories just as badly as I do if not more.

"We really need some luck at the creek cabin," I say out loud. "Whichever mom's in charge of watching out for us this week, can you make that happen?"

I let out a small laugh at the silliness, but a strange, warm feeling comes over me. Is it hope or wishful thinking?  Whatever it is, I carry that feeling with me as I get ready to head to the creek with Jax.

***

"I think that's enough for today," I say as I happily reel in another large pike. "Let's get back and get these in the smoker."

Not to mention, get ourselves in the cabin... I've been nervous and on edge all day.

When we got close to the creek, the first thing we saw was wolf tracks—and lots of them. So much for that hopeful feeling I brought with me to the creek. Luckily, we haven't seen or heard from them. Hopefully, they cross back over after they hunt at night, but who knows?