And if you’re going to do poor cuts, why even bother?
My mind continues to wander and I begin to slowly drift off into nap land, but then I’m wide awake. I hear a sound at the door and I jump. What the hell? Did an animal wander up?
Is Wolfy back?
I hop up and yank on my pants. Why I’m dressing myself to answer the door for an animal, I’m not sure, but I do it just the same.
When I pull open the wooden door to the cabin, Wolfy is sitting on my porch. His head is cocked and I could swear he’s smelling my scent from where he’s at, but I shake the thought away. I’m imagining things.
A memory of one of Grandma’s stories flashes in my head, but I push the thought away. She knew more about shifters than anyone else I’ve ever met. Me? Sometimes I still pretend I’m just imagining things.
“Wolfy,” I say softly. “You came back.” He sits there, staring at me, and then he wags his tail. Could he look any cuter? I reach out and pat him on the head and he nuzzles me. “Guess Mr. Bossy isn’t so fussy anymore,” I murmur.
Then Wolfy pulls back and trots to the steps where he has, apparently, brought me a present.
Rabbits.
He’s brought me rabbits.
My stomach growls and I can’t stop the grin that covers my face.
“You shouldn’t have,” I say, but I’m thrilled. I’m so hungry and I can’t wait to skin these beasts and start eating. “Thank you.” I wrap my arms around Wolfy and give him a huge hug, then pull away.
“Let’s make supper.”
**
Time passes differently in the woods. Soon, I begin to get comfortable. Soon, I forget that I’m supposed to be hiding. Maybe I should try to leave, go to a new town, get a new identity. Maybe I should get a new job and start a new life. Maybe I shouldn’t be me anymore.
Maybe I should be somebody else.
I never expected to stay in the cabin long-term. I figured Jeffrey would find me and kill me or I’d have some epiphany of what I should do with my life, but that doesn’t happen.
Instead, I settle into a strange, comfortable life with Wolfy by my side. I’ve never had a pet, but he’s an amazing companion. He’s soft and sweet and stays close to me every day. We run through the woods together and splash together in the creeks. We eat together every day. He hunts for me and I cook and together we make quite the pair.
But something else has to happen, right?
I shouldn’t be comfortable doing nothing with my life. I never really considered myself to be some sort of pioneer or homesteader. I’ve never been into prepping or apocalypse-anything, so the idea of living on my own in the woods should be terrifying.
But it’s not.
It’s comfortable.
And then the storm comes.
The rain begins falling and before I realize what’s happening, we’re caught in a torrential downpour.
“Come on, Wolfy!” I yell, and race inside the cabin. He follows on my heels and I slam the door shut. I realize, with a start, that Wolfy has never been inside the cabin before. I’m not opposed to having a wolf or dog inside, but he’s always slept on the porch.
I assumed he wanted to be outside.
Now, though, I’m suddenly glad he’s inside with me. The windows rattle and I yank all the curtains closed. It’s dark inside the cabin, even with the lantern. The tiny one-room cabin wasn’t designed to withstand strong storms, and I wonder if the roof will be okay.
“Man, I really hope the roof doesn’t leak,” I mutter. My clothes are wet so I strip out of them and hang them over a chair to dry. I only have a couple of outfits, but I mostly just wear the one. I’ve washed it in the creek a few times over the past few weeks, but it’s pretty gross at this point. Maybe I should just start hanging out naked.
It’s not like anyone would see me.
“What now, Wolfy?” I stare at him for a moment before grabbing a blanket off a shelf and wrapping it around him. “You look cold, poor boy,” I whisper, rubbing his back. He makes a little contented noise and curls up on the floor by the door, and I go to my bed.