The Woods ✔

Ashes To Ashes

Caden stared blankly at the cabin. It looked so normal and unaffected despite the fact that one of it's inhabitants just died.

Rays of sun tickled his skin but he felt too cold to acknowledge them. Everything seemed so dark and cold. He quietly crossed the empty space between him and the front door and pushed it open. The pain in his chest got worse and he hunched over to get somehow air back into his lungs.

Nothing had changed in the cabin. But why would it? Only half a day had passed and the only difference he noticed was the cold fireplace. The flames had died down without fresh wood to consume. Caden felt just like the cold, grey ash.

Like a ghost he wandered through the rooms, staring at all the familiar things without recognizing anything. Nothing mattered anymore.

Finally he sat down in front of the dark fireplace and gripped the arm rest of the chair tightly while his body jerked with the violent sobs. He felt drained and exhausted but then again wide awake.

He didn't think he had earned it to feel anything. Because Michael couldn't feel anything anymore.

Caden stumbled up the stairs and closed the wooden shutters in front of the window. His fingers trailed over the new books but he hadn't the urge to flip through the pages. They simply didn't matter.

Within a few minutes he had closed all the shutters and it was dark and silent although it was around noon and nature savored one of the last warm days before winter came.

During his trek back to the cabin he had decided that he couldn't stay here since only the simple act of breathing managed to remind him of Michael and his own failure. On the other hand he didn't want to leave the cabin to nature and noisy tourists. He couldn't do it after all the hard work it had taken Michael to build it and make it a home. So he would protect it as best as he could.

He may not be able to build a wall of stones around it but he could do everything that would keep animals and humans away.

Without allowing his thoughts to stray from his task he collected the ash in the fireplace and dumped it outside. He proceeded to gather all the food because it would only attract critters or spoil. He shoved the cans and packs into a linen sack and placed it next to the front door. At the end he tidied up everything for maybe the last time, folding the blankets neatly, putting away all the dishware and sweeping out any dirt that had come in somehow.

His gazed travelled over the strangely barren rooms. His eyes stung and he disquietingly shook his head. It wasn't his right to kick and scream like a baby because of the loss. Everything would have been okay if only he had been there. But he had failed and there was nobody and nothing to blame but himself.

After one final glance he took the keys from the shelf next to the front door and lugged the sack outside before locking his former home. The empty feeling grew into a bottomless pit.

Kneeling down, he lifted up the loose floor board he had discovered when he was about nine years old, and laid the keys underneath it.

Without looking back he disappeared into the woods.

He avoided the usual trails to steer clear of any humans who might look funnily at him for wandering around the forest completely naked. After he had deposited the food at it's destination he wouldn't need clothes anymore. No point in wasting it.

There was this longing to just disappear, not maring the earth with his presence further; he wanted to curl up and forget about everything. But there was also this urge to stay alive, to keep going no matter how painful every step felt, because Michael wouldn't have liked it if he withered away just like that.

Michael would have squinted at him and told him to pull himself together. And Caden was set on doing that. He hadn't been there to save Michael but he still could do his best to respect his wishes. Therefore he took one step after the other and breathed through the pain.

It took him the rest of the day to reach the lonely farm on the other side of the mountain. They had gotten fresh milk and eggs in exchange for fresh meat from the owner so Caden knew the way due to their former trips there.

The sack weighed down heavily on his shoulders but again Michael wouldn't have liked it if he wasted perfectly fine food. The old man, Jefferson, would be happy about it, too.

Caden cautiously crept closer and listened out for any sounds. It seemed as if Jefferson was in the barn with the thatched roof and took care of the cows and chickens before the sun disappeared completely. Caden remembered being fascinated by the horned animals with their long, reddish-brown coloured fur that kept them warm. Jefferson even let him pet a calf when they had visited him a few years back. It's fur had been incredible soft and the nose warm and wet.

Now he couldn't see any of the cattle but he could hear their huffing and stomping in the barn along with the low cackle of the chickens which settled down for the night on their roost.

Quickly he sprinted to the house and placed the sack next to the front door where the man had to see it when he went inside. He froze when suddenly something cold touched the back of his leg just when he was about to disappear in the woods for good.

He turned around with bated breath and looked down at whatever it was. A tiny smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

Jefferson's dogs, two Kangals, sat behind him and panted happily. They were huge, resembling more a pony in height and weight than a dog, with creme coloured, short fur and black muzzles. Caden hardly had to bend down to scratch behind their ears.

"Good boys," he praised, glad they didn't bark upon his arrival, but then again he wasn't a stranger. They knew his scent and only begged for some attention before wandering off again.

Caden glanced at the barn where he could hear Jefferson's deep voice and then stepped off of the porch and went back into the forest as soundlessly as he had emerged.

As soon as the darkness had swallowed his form he shifted and jogged further away from everything he had know since the fateful night he had scratched at Michael's door.

His life had already changed so drastically that it made no sense to cling onto the past.

Michael was dead.

The thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees, a pained yowl slipping from his muzzle. There was no denying it that Michael had been his father although they weren't related by blood. And losing a parent and a friend was always excruciating.

Caden pushed himself up again and walked further away, roughly heading west, a weak glow of light in front of him.

The instincts gradually took over his mind and he welcomed the peace of not being painfully aware of his loss every second although Michael's blood still clung to his body. It accompanied him on his journey into the unknown.