Winters Woe

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Apologies for the delayed release of this chapter. My family goes hard for thanksgiving, (And the holidays in general) and it sapped away all my free time. However, I am now back and ready to continue writing. Enjoy!

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Chapter 5

Frigid Woes

[Bjarke]

Even after a full night's sleep the feeling of Derrick's hand wrapped around me lingered. I'm not sure where I acquired the strength to remove myself before things escalated, but I couldn't be more thankful to the arrival of such willpower. I was dangerously close to taking him right then and there. His lips looked so soft; I knew kissing him would feel great. I had to guess that they'd feel even better wrapped around my more sensitive spots. This feeling ... it's like a disease. Now that those images are in my head, I can't seem to remove them.

I felt bad walking downstairs to the sight of Derrick back on the floor. Pushing him aside in the shower must have made him feel like crap. I vowed to never make anyone feel like that again and here I was repeating my past. Years of progress seemingly gone!

There's a part of me that wishes I had never found Derrick ... well, no, that's not true. I wouldn't want him to have froze to death. Guess I just wish that he had never even come to Alaska.

When he awoke I was already finished with my meal. I left him his portion and headed outside. The shoveled pathways needed some touch ups, and I think the water jugs under the sink were close to empty. While the latter was true, the pathways were not in need of being shoveled--I just needed an excuse to keep my mind busy.

Shoveling without gloves in low temperatures wasn't ideal but going back inside to get them would mean running into an awake Derrick which I did not want to do right now.

The cold sank its teeth into my fingers sending pains all through my hand. It felt like miniature knives were injected right beneath the skin, floating around, cutting up anything in their path.

The next few days proceeded in becoming a monotonous quota. I did chores to avoid Derrick, and repeating chores helped exacerbate that. He was peeved by my reluctance to be around him ... and while I did care, I still avoided him whenever possible.

One morning, when I went to take out something for dinner, I realized that we were once again low on meat. Because there were now two mouths to feed I suited up, grabbed my bow, and headed for the front door. Before leaving outside I turned around and called out about where I was going. Since I left right after, I wasn't sure if Derrick had heard me. Not like it matters though.

The wind out in nature was calm, the air cool--it was perfect conditions to hunt. Arrows rattled around in the quiver on my back and my feet sank into deep snow upon every step. There wasn't much commotion from the forest dwellers, extending my search far longer than I had intended.

Snow decorated every tree surrounding me. The way it weighed down branches made it look like a blanket, giving everything it managed to touch a gently cold hug. Walking north brought me to a small drop-off where--finally--I found something to actually hunt. A bird landed to peck at something on the ground, unaware of my presence. Carefully I lifted an arrow out of my quiver, strung it back until my knuckles brushed against my cheek, and let loose the string, striking the life out of the avian being. After wrapping it to my waist and tightening the bonds I moved onwards, deeper into the forest.

By midday exhaustion had invited itself into my body, taking a toll on my stamina. Hunting always made me sweat profusely, and it now applied a suction effect to my clothes. It suffocated me, making the hunt nearly unbearable. The sun had moved far across the sky, hovering directly above. There wasn't a single living being in sight or sound. Not a crunch of snow nor a whistle of birds. Complete nothingness.

The rest of my hunt only illuminated a few squirrels of which I was unable to catch--and a fox now hanging from my belt.

Further into the dense towers of branches I went, moving myself a large distance from the cabin. This ten-year long isolation had been a blessing, only to be ruined by a stray redhead. Worst of all, it was a redhead who made my will melt away. Anyone from my past could attest to how weak I've always been. But this new guy was something else.

Much to my disappointment I've always done what others told me to do. I've never been able to say no. That weakness kept dropping me into awful situations that I only regretted after either the drugs, the booze, or the fog of sex had worn off. Since my youth had I been making mistake after mistake, unable to discern a better path to walk. Thankfully I did--eventually--make a new road to place my feet on. If only that solid ground wasn't crumbling away.

When my tracks stretched miles, pains called out from the bottoms of my feet, begging for a rest. There was a flat rock ahead that I plopped myself down upon. It seemed impossible for my mind not to be utterly engrossed in whatever thoughts came sauntering into my head. When it came to clearing my mind, I was the worst, but somehow, I looked past the mess and saw the world, tranquil and serene as it were. Sounds became easier to focus in on, from rustles of branches above to the distant sounds of nature. Behind all those sounds was peace, and behind the peace something more sinister.

While my legs took a break, I became aware of the shiver of searing eyes burning into my person. Wolf, bear, lynx ... I wasn't sure what was stalking me, only that it saw me as an easy meal. Being careful while hunting was never a conscious thought to me as it was something I did instinctually. Now, with all this stuff in my head, I found myself treading ground recklessly.

Without knowing what it was that had me in its sights I had no way of preparing. I kept on acting normal, no sudden movements that would be either too aggressive or too submissive.

My ears gave away that it couldn't be a predator of considerable size, crossing a bear or wolf off my list. It was most likely a feline type of predator. Fierce and fast, as most of them are.

Each finger on my hand trembled in anticipation like a restless trigger finger. I was a fast draw with a bow, but considering the speed of most animals, I'd only get one shot.

Best case scenario was finding a clearing. If I could get enough open space, then defending against it would be much easier. Too many trees surrounded me like a defensive wall ... like a prison for unsuspecting hunters. How well I--or anyone for that matter--knew this forest would help little against the disorienting nature of hill and brush. A master cartographer could lose their way in such dense woodland terrain. It didn't help that I was panicking which only accelerated my teetering sense of direction.

The more I put one foot ahead of the other the more lost I became. Being so focused on the fear that had stowed away inside my chest led me astray. I was coming across boulders I'd never seen, and mountainous structures that were holy unfamiliar. All while still being trailed by whatever had its sights on me.

Only when the sun began descending did I realize how out of luck I was. If night arrived before I could get home, or at the very least find some familiar ground, then I doubt I'd be making it home at all.

This could be the end ... an end I most assuredly did not deserve.

Every choice I've made in the last ten years was for the betterment of me. All I've done was improve upon every negative facet of my life, only to take in a random guy and watch as I slip back into past behaviors.

Do I deserve this?

After walking for God knows how long I managed to find an open-ish clearing. There was a large chunk of stone in the middle which was reminiscent of the Arthurian legend. When I got a ways towards the middle I stopped, standing as still as I could manage. Ever so slowly reaching for an arrow while being stalked struck chills down my back ... my body, now wrapped in fear, shook no matter how hard I attempted to regain some composure. I was scared. Pure fear, nothing less than terror.

I didn't want to die. I didn't want to.

I wanted to live.

The time between the arrow leaving my quiver to it being pulled back in my bow was like a flash. I whipped around and aimed a little downward, trying to predict my stalker's size. The arrow stuck into the grey blur's thigh, but its momentous lunge knocked me off my feet. Its teeth were lodged around the limb of my bow, its drool splattering on my face. Razor sharp claws dug into my thick jacket, only a few layers from my flimsy flesh.

This ferocious feline was deeply ravenous. It was that same desperation that stole my attention to the length of its body. Bones were eerily visible all through the predators form, hunger most likely being the only thing keeping the predator going.

During the cat's furious onslaught, I realized how weak it was. I wasn't even exuding much effort into holding back its jaw; there just wasn't much fight left in the poor thing.

I had contemplated leaving it the catches on my waist in the hopes that I could feed it, and in turn bribing it to leave me alone. However, I also needed to eat, not to mention the other mouth I had to feed. My mind saw one path, and so I took it.

Flipping the lynx over was a terrifyingly easy feat, especially considering how strong they usually are. I picked up an arrow that had fallen out of my quiver and quickly thrusted it in and out of the cat's neck. It struggled for a bit before calming down, slowly growing limp and lifeless. Both eyes of mine stared at the now dead feline, frozen on the sight. Tears welled up underneath my sockets, eventually pouring out in a sloppy mess. The crying became a downright sob that was less about the lynx as it was more about my past revisiting me. All the people I'd hurt, all the people I had made feel awful--it flooded me like dirty memories tainting the waters of my life that took me years to clean.

Back pressed to the stone and the cat lying dead at my feet. A real shitty day, all things considered. Maybe even one of my worst. Although, I think the day I woke up in an Alabama ditch on my twenty-first birthday covered in various wounds might be a contender.

Thick snow flitted down from the clouds, concealing everything. My tracks vanished before my eyes leaving me nothing to follow. If it wasn't for my cowardly disposition, then I would have just lied there--my back against the stone--until the cold killed me. Maybe dying isn't such a bad idea. There would be no one to remind me of my past, or jog horrible memories from the times that made me wince the most. Heck, people didn't even need to tell me how crappy I used to be. I reminded myself almost every day. Guess I'm just too cowardly to face anything... not death, or the people I've wronged.

Roughly two hours went by of walking in one direction. I was sure the way I had chosen was somewhat accurate, but I couldn't say for sure. Light faded away, making room for a bright moon to rise over the earth's crest. Thick layers of atmosphere encircled me, and I found myself thinking about quite a lot. I was more than certain that Derrick needed to leave. Being around people never worked for me, never ended in anything good happening. I'm just so frustrated--sitting on an edge that I am highly afraid of falling from.

I'll be damned if I let that happen!

I was beyond relieved when I finally reached the cabin, though assuredly well past midnight. I felt like a warrior, returning home after a long quest. The lynx got slung over my shoulder before I entered--where afterwards I was met firsthand with a warmth emanating from the fireplace. Accomplished as I felt I confidently took my scores to the backroom for prepping. Not wanting to do it in the morning I took care of the lifeless sacks immediately, refining them into an edible condition.

Derrick was already asleep in front of the fireplace. I'd hoped he'd made something to eat for himself since I didn't leave anything out to be cooked. My own stomach growled at the thought of food, but I was simply too tired to make anything. My bed called to me voraciously, and I slept without trouble.

On the following morning, before Derrick woke, I got his belongings and set them up on the dining room table. I also prepared for him some resources and a map with clear directions on how to find the nearest town. This would be everything he'd need for the trip out of this forest, and considering what he does for a living, I doubt that he is incapable of taking care of himself.

The redhead slept for much longer than usual. Perhaps he stayed up late waiting for me? Doesn't matter ... once he wakes, I'll be sending him on his way. That sentiment was true, but my resolve weakened when strong winds began rattling the house. There was a noticeable air about Derrick, obvious from the moment I found him in that snow covered clearing. In fact, I could tell he was not an ordinary man just from seeing his distant visage across that frozen lake all that time ago. Feels like a memory from a faraway time, where in reality it happened about two, maybe three weeks ago? Odd how the world can move in a way that seems blindingly fast.

By the time gusts of wind were striking the house I knew I wouldn't be able to send him away in a storm so, before he woke up, I rushed to put away his "leave my cabin" supplies.

If only I had been faster.

I was reaching to put away his things when an expression caught my eye. The sour look on Derrick's face was no laughing matter, and the red in his eyes reminded me of what kind of man he is. The way he stood straight up was not only intimidating, but sorrowful. His strides towards me were swift, confident, and full of purpose. When he stopped it was right in front of me, our chests mere inches apart.

"You want me to leave?" He asked sternly.

"Look, I was just trying-"

"No." His hand raised to silence my words. "You have a whole survival kit here which is obviously for me. So fine, I'll get out of your hair." Derrick's tone was now removed from emotion. Cold as the outside air.

Stumbling on my words, I attempted to get ahead of him. "I'm not going to send you out in a storm, so just listen to me for a second." My words fell on unappeased ears.

With a flurry of syllables, I tried getting through to him, the only problem was that he ignored every word that left my mouth. When he was fully dressed he shuffled on the backpack I provided and sheathed his mini sword with clean precision. I tried standing in his way to no avail. His hands easily pushed me to the side, and when I turned and grabbed his arm, he expertly lost my grip before walking outside. What he left behind was the echo of my front door being slammed shut.

What had just occurred hadn't been processed immediately, thus leaving me to stand in one place like an idiot. The one thing I was sure of was that there was zero chance of him making it to civilization in a storm!

My eyes flashed with horrific images, each one showing a worse and worse fate.

He's going to need my help again!

Dang it!