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Morning tried to rise to its full height but as I had predicted yesterday morning before the sequence of events afterwards changed much of my life, the first snow came abrupt and hard last night. It started well before I had fallen asleep.
Twisting my hair behind my back with a headband, I got out to make the bed, the same ritual I've always done as quick and quietly as I could. Once that was over, I padded softly to the kitchen and took out the chilled chocolate chip cookie dough on the fridge before pulling the plug.
It was the last one inside with a pitcher of water before I had transferred most of its contents to the ice box outside. Winter had a habit of saving my electricity bill to useless once it set. I had gas that would last for three months and enough wood for the rest of my life.
Once I set to fixing up the cookies into the oven, I adjusted a water to boil and took out a bag of grinded coffee. The smell whiffed and I closed my eyes, content.
When I opened them again, my eyes drop to Orion. He slept curled on the foot of the bed, his ashen brown and gray hair streaked with silver and in the morning light.
He was so pale last night, I thought I had stuff a body out in the ice box. But he slept peacefully now, his body rising and falling in an equal rhythm.
He had fallen asleep first, drowsy from the pain he suffered trying to keep himself from shifting, and I had bunched up pillows and some of my thick afghans on the floor close to the rug under my bed to at least keep him as comfortable as I could as he didn't fit the slim sofa.
He was shifting awake by the time the cookies were done and the smell filled the house, closing on the bitterness that you can still taste in your mouth. I made sure to keep the oven open until after to hopefully rid of last night's aftertaste.
"Good morning," I said as he slowly approach me, paws softly thudding. He dipped his head and sniffed. "Want some? Unless you can't eat chocolate."
He stared as if he raising an eyebrow, then went around to nudge his snout to his old clothes.
I shook my head. "I'll wash them first, they're full of your sweat and the cold made them slightly crispy. I'll get you clothes."
He stared at me again as if raising an impeccable eyebrow. I ignored this and went to my closet, shuffling my things around until I found some of Hunter's old sweatshirts that he gave me.
One of my nonna's old sweatpants and socks would fit him enough; she was a big lady and he was fairly skinny, though lean. Once I collected them, I went over the bathroom and placed them over the basin, opening the door wide to let him in.
"The sweatpants and socks are my nonna's, but the sweater is mine."
He sniffed and reeled his head, giving me another look.
