Lost To The Wild

What now?

I feel warm. Not just the heat that lingers along the skin, but the kind that settles deep within the bones, and relaxes the muscles. It is a warmth that makes one reminisce of what it would feel like in the womb, before the world, before the cold. This is a rare feeling in the winter, so I let my eyes stay closed, embracing and memorizing the feeling of warmth that is surly the mere residue from a dream. For only in a dream could I feel this. It couldn't possibly exist in my world anymore.

So I fight to remain asleep in those last moments before waking, holding onto a dream that will surely leave me. But oddly enough as my body comes into consciousness the warmth stays. In the darkness behind my eyelids I hear the cracking of a strong burning fire, and the smell of fresh cooked oats. I want to dismiss it as a dream, but my mind is alert now, and the warmth stays.

I gingerly open my eyes expecting the cold to return, but none greets me this winter morning. The glow of the fire is bright, but this cannot be. It should have burnt out hours ago while I slept. A pot of oats steams quietly over the flames, making my small cabin smell like a morning meal.

Boots clatter on the porch. Heavy footsteps nearing the door, the gush of cold wind as the door opens, and the return of warm as the door clicks shut again. I raise my head from the pillow and see Luke shrugging out of a coat, and removing his boots. He runs his hands through his hair making small clumps of snow fall to the floor, and wipes his runny nose with the arm sleeve of his sweater. He looks to me and smiles, noticing that I'm awake.

"Morning," he greets me lightly with a smile.

Still not fully awake, I still in quiet confusion, staring at the man in front of me.

He shifts nervously on his feet under my scrutiny. "I hope you don't mind but I found these clothes in the closet. They're my size so I assume they're your uncles, he doesn't seem to be here though, so I didn't think you'd mind if I borrowed them." He finishes, awaiting my response.

"I don't mind," I mumble, rubbing the sleepiness from my eyes with the back of my hand.

"Good. And I got up a bit early so I thought I'd get started on some things. Fire, breakfast, caught a couple hares, and chopped up some more fire wood, left it just outside the door..."

"What time is it?" I ask in my groggy morning voice. I usually never slept past dawn, especially since I moved out here. I used to all the time back home, but now I just usually rose with the sun.

"Sun came up about an hour ago," he responded casually.

"And you got all that done, before I woke up?"

He nodded in response.

"Well... thanks."

"No problem." He walked over to the pot of oats and gave it a stir before removing it from the flames. "Breakfast is ready." He filled up two bowls and set them on the kitchen table.

Cautiously I slip out of the comfortable bed and make my way to the kitchen. I watch him suspiciously, feeling the keen sense of being lead into a trap. People don't just do nice things and expect nothing in return.

I sit in the chair and stare at the bowl of cooked oats.

It could be poison?

I eye him as he takes the first bite and swallows.

I slowly start eating my own breakfast, and I swear that all food tastes better when another person cooks it for you, because these oats were amazing.  

"Why did you do all this? What do you want?" I ask, not wanting to figuratively beat around the bush.

"Do I have to want something? Or can I just be showing my gratitude?"

I raises my eyebrow at him, disbelieving.

"Fine," he admits with a sigh, "I do want something. I can't go back to town, and I need a place to stay. Somewhere secluded and unknown, somewhere like this cabin. I would like to stay here just for a bit. Just until I have a plan of what to do next. Until then I can work for you, and in return you let me sleep under your roof."

"Why can't you go back to town?"

"That doesn't concern you. I just need a place away from people."

I lean back in my chair, considering his proposal.

Having someone help me out would actually be really nice. The air is getting colder, and the storms harsher.

 But the whole point of moving out to this secluded cabin was to be alone. Having a strange man move in with me is definitely not what I mean by alone.

I am about to reject his proposal but then he gives me this pleading look. It reminds me of those puppies in the pet store with big, innocent eyes that say "Please take me home with you, I promise I'll be good!"

I am such a sucker.

"Fine you can stay until my next shipment of supplies," I groan defeated. "That's a couple months away. If it all goes well I might let you stay, otherwise you will go back to town. Deal?"

"I won't go back to town," he states firmly, "but if you want me to go, then I will leave." 

                "Good," I sigh, a sense of relief blooming in my chest. It had been a long time since the pressure of survival was lifted from me. Having another person around might be kind of nice; I was getting tired of talking to the trees. "How are you feeling? You looked pretty rough yesterday, but now you seem... well you seem fine?"

                He smiles at my concern, "I heal quite quickly. It's a blessing in my genetics. And you? How is your neck?" 

I immediately reach for the tender spot, running my fingertips along the surely bruised skin. It didn't really hurt, it was just a little tender.

"It's fine."

He nodded at my answer then rose from his seat, collecting our dirty dishes. He quietly washed them in the sink, dried them with my tea towel, and then placed them back in their proper cabinets. He then sat back down in the chair across the kitchen table from me.

"What now?" He asks, his eyes piercing my own, challenging me.

"I have a project you can help me with," I say. A devious smile plastered across my face.