Winter Night Traveler

Cabin

It was going to snow.

The sky was low and flat, a heavy gray that blended into the frozen arctic landscape. It was difficult to tell where the earth stopped and the sky began. The air had a distinct, sharp smell and the wind that blew had a particularly icy edge. The few trees that dotted the barren plain moaned under the beating of the wind, their branches making a mournful sound that settled in the soul.

Louis Tomlinson stood outside of his cabin, his artist's eyes taking in all the details of the impending storm. He was always aware of them hovering and pressing closer. He cupped his hands, covered in thick gloves, up to his mouth and blew into them for warmth. Maybe his instincts were wrong and the snow wouldn't amount to any more than the six inch prediction broadcasted over the radio.

But if it came down to it, Louis trusted his instincts. For as long as he could remember, every time there had been a big snow, he had gotten the same crawling feeling beneath his skin. The atmosphere charged with energy, Mother Nature gathering strength to unleash a striking blow. Whether caused by the static electricity or plain old foreboding, his spine was tingling with an uneasiness that wouldn't let him rest and was completely inconducive to writing.

Louis wasn't worried about surviving; he had food, water, and shelter. What he was worried about, was the loneliness. This was to be the first time in his memory that he'd had to go through snow alone. Throughout his early years he'd had his parents and siblings. And after that, a string of girlfriends to cuddle up with. Hell, even the caretakers had left him. The sweet little elderly couple who owned the cabin Louis was staying in had just that week become grandparents for the first time. They had set out for London two days prior, promising to return only when they had taken an adequate amount of pictures.

At least the caretaker and his wife had the forethought to secure all the cabins before they left. The small compound on which Louis was staying consisted of five cabins all together. The cabin Louis called home was the largest of the set, all of which hugged the picturesque lake which sat in the middle. At least, Louis assumed it was picturesque in the fleeting months of spring. For the duration of his stay it had been frozen over and intimidating, as if warning intruders to stay away.

Actually, the weather had been mild this year, especially for Idaho. Though it was December, there had only been one snow, a mere three inches. All traces of that storm were nearly gone, the only remnant was the crunching of Louis's boots as he moved further away from the cabin.

Even the infamously optimistic slobber-hound, a golden retriever, otherwise known as Tinkerbell even though he was neither female nor a fairy, seemed to be worrying about the weather. He stayed right behind Louis as he moved from cabin to cabin, enjoying the chill out the outdoors while he still could. Tinkerbell belonged to the caretakers, but had taken a special liking to Louis since the day of his arrival. At first Louis was apprehensive; he'd been allergic to every dog he'd encountered since he was seven years old. But for some reason, the same did not apply to Tinkerbell and the two had become fast friends.
Those brown eyes were irresistible, staring up at him with love and boundless trust. Louis squatted down and rubbed the dog behind his ears. "You big mutt," he said lovingly, and he responded to the tone with a swipe of his tongue on Louis's hand.

At least someone loves me, Louis thought, righting himself and continuing on his walk. His little vacation to the cabin was supposed to have been just that, little. After the ceremonious end to his tumultuous relationship, he needed the break. This little cabin in Idaho had the double benefit of being far away from Eleanor and far away from England. At first he had enjoyed the solitude, the chance to think and write without interruption. But the silence was beginning to weigh on his spirit and the nights of staying up to write had melted into the numerous bottles of vodka consumed.

Although his relationship with Eleanor had been emotionally and sometimes physically abusive, she had always been there for him. Now it was just Louis, Tinkerbell, and the impending snow.

He contemplated going back to London, or perhaps taking a trip to Rome, but neither held much appeal. Louis wanted nothing more than a good thick stew, a melancholy book, and a bottle of strong vodka.

Giving one last glance at the shivering trees and the ominous sky, Louis flicked his forgotten cigarette into the snow and started back towards the cabin.

His home for the last three months was beautiful. Not grand, not luxurious, but definitely beautiful. The front of the A-frame was a wall of windows, giving a wonderful view to the sun as it tracked its way across the sky. A natural rock fireplace soared the entire two stories of the cabin, and when lit, heated the whole cabin to a nice, toasty temperature. Lush green vines that somehow Louis had managed not to kill, draped over book cases that housed his collections quite nicely. The floors were made of inlaid hard wood and were decorated with opulent jewel colored area rugs that reminded Louis of the Russian Winter Palace.

Discarding his jacket and gloves, he turned to look out the windows. It was only three o'clock but the clouds were so heavy, it looked like dusk. The snow was beginning to fall, fluffy wet flakes that had already dusted the ground white.

He shivered even though the house was perfectly warm, that crawling feeling still all over his skin.

But maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wouldn't snow that much.