Song of the Firebird

Forty Six

Natasha sat on the window ledge and looked at the scene before her. She tilted her head against the glass frame, breathing in the purest of the air from the small opening of the window on her side. Taking in a long breath, she exhaled on the glass surface. Her index finger at the end of her cuffed hand drew her lover's name on the recently heated surface.

Jay.

She chuckled to herself at her current state. A damsel in distress. The very role that she didn't want to be in and the very role she wanted to fill her shoes with, so badly, because of all the stench from the bucket with the dead fishes at the corner of the cabin. She was, however, comfortable that the men chose to place their bodies on the opposite end of the source of pungent smell. She might have liked it before, but her son had other preferences.

After finishing her first episode of puking upon arrival, she snug her figure closer to the windows. She wondered how Ivy was not able to get up from such an exposure. Clinking her cuffs, she rubbed her eyes and looked at the crescent moon, hiding, taking its own time behind the long stretch of thick cottony-soft clouds.

As Natasha began contemplating, her memories pulled threads of her unforgettable moments, here and there, making her grow thirsty for more like that. And there had not been an instant when she abhorred to loathe her teenage self for taking the box for leverage. What she thought once was for executing a prank, had now landed her in a jeopardy. She sighed as she closed her eyes.

The next time she opened her eyes, she could see the start of the day, signalled by the sun letting out streaks of mild orange hues. She sat up from her seat, groggily, and stretched her arms, arching her arms way above her head. She groaned as she was not able to do her best, like she did in her apartment. Besides, her mind roared, spewing out sh*ts and damns, as she could feel the painful knots on her back. She winced as her back suffered a terrible jolt of pain, right above her bottom.

Soon as she directed her vision to what the window had to show her, her eyes widened.

A pang of familiarity brewed over her already sore conscience. Refusing to bat her eyelids, her eyes spanned the entire area in the periphery.

The first snow showers of the day added more coldness to their present situation.

As far as her eyes could see, there were no buildings, let alone cabins. There had not been much of a human presence, except for two or three men patrolling a few hundred metres from where she sat. Behind them, they were surrounded by a long expanse of aspen. The cabin was located in the clearing, most likely at the centre of the trees. There were no signs of cars or other automobiles telling her that the leader of the gang had not arrived at the spot yet. Throughout her years with Kirk, she knew that he'd always make a grand entrance in all of his filthy ventures.

Natasha spared her friend a glance. From Ivy's features, she could bet that she must have had a long day in the labs on whatever project she had been working on the previous night. The rational part of her mind argued that it was quite unusual for a person to indulge in such a long nap, unless the said person was dead or so. Frightened of witnessing an unfortunate incident, Natasha abandoned her spot near the window and walked to where Ivy was laid down.

Kneeling beside Ivy's face, Natasha began to poke the former's sides, where her tickling spot was located. When there was no response for the stimulus, she began to shake her wildly, clutching both her arms. Dread filled her entire form as she could not perceive any reactions from her at all.

Then, Natasha slapped Ivy hard across her both cheeks, screaming her name aloud. Out of thin air, she felt a strong hold on her wrist, twisting it in the event. Natasha winced at the contact. 'You're insane, Ivy!'