Her

Chapter 1

My feet hit the sand. It feels strange to be here after all these years. I reach backwards to start grabbing my gear, but feel something heavy land beside me. I look to my left. My backpack has been thrown out, along with my bow and ten precious arrows. I won't need more than that. I'll find my others soon. My knife is strapped to my hip, along with my compass and canteen. I look backwards into the outrigger canoe that brought me from the big ship. My nephew's eyes meet mine. "Please don't go Uncle John. You don't know what could be out there." I give him a long look, studying his face. He's concerned. Partially for me, obviously, but mostly for his mother. Of course. As much as I love him, I need to do this. I wordlessly turn away, pick up my pack, bow, and quiver, and start my trek. I hear him whimper behind me, then burst into tears. "John!" one of the sailors calls to me. I turn. "We can't come back for you. You know this, right?" This sets my nephew crying even harder. My eyes tear a little bit. I grunt at them gruffly, nodding my head in confirmation. I don't trust myself to speak. I am a rough man, I can't break down crying. A sailor has to hold back my nephew, he's trying to climb out of the boat to me. They shove off so he will stop fighting, but this only makes him start to wail and scream, begging them to take him back to me. I turn back around, my back to them. His voice is so full of heartache and panic, I know if I look at him I'll lose all my resolve. But I have to make it. I check my compass, then start out towards my destination. All signs that humans used to live on this island are gone. A well paved path from the beach into the forest is gone, no trace of it. The snow probably helps. Quickly the sounds of my nephews wails are silenced by the muffling power of the snow a pine needles. I continue on. The forest was quiet near the beach, but as I continue on, animals begin to emerge. At first I only see a rabbit. I could make a snare to catch them, but that would waist valuable time that I don't have. I would have to set the snare, continue on the path, double back to see the snare again a few hours later, and hope I got lucky and caught a rabbit. No. Hunting would have to wait. Once I can no longer see the beach behind me or hear the waves through the trees and snow, I stop. Taking off my waders, I fold them neatly and put them in my pack. Next, I take off my shirt. I rummage in my pack until I find a clean shirt, I have been wearing the other one for three days, trying to keep my other shirts clean until it was time. It's my favorite shirt. One she gave to me. I put it on, the red and black checkers standing out nicely against the snow. Next, I pull on my long johns. I had forgotten how cold it was here. Next, I rummage through my pack till I find my pants. They are tan cargo pants. Not ideal, but it is freezing out here in underwear and a shirt. Next, I put on my camouflage jacket, a nice, heavy duty one I looted from a store. The tag says it will go down to -30 F. I grab my hat off the ground. I bought this hat with her, a black leather cowboy hat, a band around the crown had bones with black ties through them around it. I put on my pack again, it weighing no less than 50 lbs, but holding all of my essentials. I put my quiver of arrows around my right shoulder, and grasp my bow in my left. I reach up and grab an arrow. I notch it, then begin to move forward on silent feet, only as a hunter can. I chuckle to myself. A hunter? More like the hunted. I am prey. But your calculations said that no recipients would still be alive on this island, a little voice in my head said. I gave another sick chuckle. Because calculations had been so reliable as of late. I push onward. I need to make it five miles by nightfall. If I don't, I'll never make it there. I glance at the sky through tree branches. It's past noon. I have to hurry.

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The hours pass in a blur. The only notable things that happen are me shooting a reindeer and finding a trace of the old path, right under my feet. I almost trip over it, the asphalt looking goopy and unnatural against the white, untouched snow. As might falls, I start a fire and begin to cook the reindeer. I eat a hearty meal, cutting the rest into chunks for me to carry easily with me. I wrap them in the brown paper I had around my clothes to keep them dry. As the sun sets, I start to look for a tree to sleep in. I know which tree I want, if I've made it far enough. I walk further along, checking my compass less frequently as I begin to see large chunks of the path under me. I pass a tiny sapling, and that's when I see it. The tree is a spruce. Extremely tall, soft wood, and a strong scent to hide mine. I drop my pack and tie a rope around it, keeping my bow close. I begin to climb the tree, holding the other end of the rope with my bow and arrows on my back. It's almost fifty feet off the ground until I meet the first branch. I continue to climb until my rope is taught, but my bag isn't lifted, about 200 feet off the ground. I heft my bag until I can reach it, then tie it to a branch. I climb another 20 feet until I find a nice fork in the tree to sleep in. I take off my belt and belt myself into the tree. It finally gets dark, a new moon, so it's pitch black out here. Suddenly, I feel a little pinprick on my cheek. I look up. Catching the little starlight, I see snow starting to fall. I remember the first time I met her. It was snowing, the first snow I had ever seen.

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The sky was dark gray. The air had a strange bite to it. It felt cold on my hands. I thought I was lucky that my beard kept my face warm. I walked down the street, wanting to find a warm diner. I needed a cup of coffee to curl my hands around. They were stiff and cold from a long shift at the lumber mill. There were many shops around, but I couldn't find any diners. I looked up once more, wondering when the rain was going to start. Suddenly, a white snowflake fluttered down. I followed it with my eyes, and that's when I saw her. She had just opened a shop door, a bundle of fabric in her arms. All time slowed to a crawl. I noticed the hairpin curve of her lips, the way her eyelashes fluttered against the cold, the tip of her ski-slope nose slightly red from the cold, though she had only been outside for moments. I saw her hair, blonde with darker streaks, curled perfectly, coming out of her muted yellow cap, a pom-pom of the same color on the top. Her slightly too-large white sweater made her look tiny, although she was always tiny compared to me. I am a large man, her hands looked like dolls in mine. Her brown leggings with lighter brown leather boots made her legs look long and lean. She smiled at the shop owner, a brilliant thing that could make just about anyone stop and just stare at her for hours. She turned away, and I saw a flash of her dark brown eyes, having a depth I never knew brown eyes could have. Her eyes flickered up, and I saw that single snowflake come and land on her cheek.
She later told me she had been buying material for a quilt, which she later gave to me on our first anniversary. I wish I had that quilt now, something to chase away the night as I try to sleep, high in a tree, bow loaded in my hand.

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Hey guys!
So yes, this is VERY different from what I normally write. And yes, I know I promised you a finally to When I Reach You, this idea just came to me and I couldn't stop it. So When I Reach You fans, this is going to be another human nature type story, but it's going to be extremely different. I have a very specific place I want this to end up and I've planned a lot for it. Yes, this chapter is short, but it's kinda my introduction into how I'm writing this. So if you like this story, vote for it and comment! Thanks! I love you my chickens! -darkrainbow1