The Lost and the Forgotten

Chapter Nine.

The whitish-gray glow peers in through the window, onto the floor. Dust particles swirl up from the wooden floorboards as I shift to sit up. My arms feel a little better, but still feel like the sharp end of a stick. Or knife for that matter. My stomach grumbles loudly and I look around. The bed is made and things are kind of picked up. I guess Logan cleaned up a little while I was still sleeping.

The world outside is cold and cloudy. The gray clouds swirl like storms will be approaching. Cold winds blow fast against my face, whipping my long brown hair around behind me. I wrap the blanket tighter around me to keep out the chill.

Logan sits across the stretch do dead ground by the fire. His hair looks messy, by the way it's been tousled. His shoulders hang low as he stares into the glow of the burning embers. I walk down the steps of the porch and stride over. He glances up. "Good morning," he mutters. I take a seat next to him in one of the old camping chairs.

"Morning." My voice sounds creaky like old steps to a staircase. I cough a little to see if it would disappear but it doesn't.

"What are we doing today?" I ask out of curiosity. Even though he told me last night, I have to create a conversation somehow.

"Cleaning up. Going through those boxes and getting things ready."

"Ready for what?" I furrow my eyebrows at him.

"Like I said, you ask too many questions." And with that he stands up. Just when I think he's about to walk away he turns, peering down at me with those eyes. Except today, something is different about them. They look tired, beaten down, and actually worried. The natural blue is gone and replaced with a soft gray. "Breakfast is inside."

"Really? How did I not smell it?" I am truly caught off-guard. I can smell food from a mile away, yet I walked right by that. And come to think of it, I haven't smelt yesterday's fire or rabbit either.

"I'll tell you once we get inside. Come on now it's about to storm." He holds out his hand even though I am well capable of pulling myself up. I take it anyway to make things less awkward. He yanks be up forcefully but careful. For a spilt second after we are both standing, he keeps holding it. Then I kind of look away from his gaze and he drops it. We walk back it utter silence.

When we get inside, the wind begins to pick up. You can hear the slight creak as the wind hits the strange angles of the cabin. The weird thing is that it's only ten in the morning and it's already this bad. Hopefully it won't snow...

It snows. As I sip on the watery soup Logan made for breakfast, I peer out the dusty widow. Light white flakes swirl and touch the ground, disappearing but eventually building up around the bottoms of trees and the tops of dead grass patches. Snow has always made me antsy with excitement. Every time I'd build a snow man, or just lay in the snow and watch it fall all around me. Seeing the gray sky and feeling the soft yet icy touch of the white fluff around me made me feel weightless and wholesome.

"Christina!" I jump and fling some soup on the table. Quickly I wipe it up with my sleeve.

"Huh?" I mumble. I don't really want to hear what he has to say to me right now, since he snapped me out of my happy place and all.

"I said, that we need to get to work." His tone is harsh and makes me feel small inside. I nod and avoid eye contact. "We will start in here." He gestures to the kitchen. I nod again.

He takes the bowl from me and I stand up. He sets it down with a loud clatter in the sink, as if he was angry. I remain in my upright position, slumping my shoulders and just watching him. I feel frozen and I don't really know what to do. And with that, the cuts on my arms begin to softly throb.