Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
There’s a slump to her shoulders beneath the pack. The skin around her eyes pulls tight, and perhaps the most telling is her silence. Her voice, when she does speak, lacks emotion and animation.
I stopped forcing her to rest. My concern only makes her more agitated and miserable.
But every night, she crawls into my arms and laces our legs together, seeking my comfort and body heat.
Every day, we wake before dawn and push forward, our eyes fixed on the horizon, longing for a glimpse of the cabin.
We’re close.
The landscape subtly shifts beneath our weary feet, and the air feels different, not warmer, but less biting. The snow begins to relent in places, exposing patches of frozen earth, hardy shrubs, and animal tracks. Rabbits. Foxes. Moose. Specks of life that signal how far south we’ve traveled.
The most heartening sight is the gradual appearance of a frozen stream, a guidepost paved in the landscape that runs all the way to the cabin. In the summer, it babbles and rushes with life, but now it lies in hibernation.
“Look.” I veer toward the icy path. “The stream means we’re close. We’ll reach the cabin by the end of the day.”
“Thank you, Jesus.”
My veins shimmer with anticipation. My circulation buzzes with a renewed energy, quickening my pace.
Tonight, we’ll have a safe shelter, a fire, and deep, restful sleep.
My lips squirm, making uncomfortable movements.
She studies me with an odd look. “Is that a smile?”
“No.”
“It totally is. Aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine?”
I shake my head. She laughs, and we trudge through the snow in silence, our breaths forming clouds of mist.
Every few minutes, I glance at her, her face partially obscured by loose strands of red hair.
The way she makes me feel, it’s the sweetest agony, the most exquisite pain.
The thought of anything happening to her under my watch weighs heavier than the pack on my back.
I love her, and that has redefined every aspect of my life.
The tundra is my home, my teacher, and my jailer, but as I walk beside her, I find myself dreaming of a different future. A future where the desolate wilderness is replaced by the chaos of civilization.
Breaking the silence, I venture into the unknown. “What’s it like…living in a town? Among other people?”
“It’s different.” A tired sigh escapes her lips. “There’s noise, a lot of it. And people, everywhere. But there’s a sense of belonging, too. You can find community, friends, those who care about you outside of survival.”
I nod, trying to imagine such a world. “It must be overwhelming to always have people around.”
“It can be. But you find your spaces, your peace. There’s beauty in solitude, but there’s beauty in connection, too. In a town, you learn to balance both.”
“The transition…” I don’t know how to put my concerns into words. “Going from this…”
“From isolation to over-stimulation? Yeah. That won’t be easy.” Her gaze softens, understanding. “It’ll be a shock, at first. The pace, the noise, the sheer number of people. But you’ll adapt. You’ll find the things you love about it. The convenience of stores. The easy access to food, music, and different cultures. The joy of going to the bathroom without freezing off your dick. But you’ll also miss the quiet, the connection to nature. It’s a trade-off.”
The thought of such a drastic change makes me uneasy. I’m good at this life, where success is defined by hard work and resilience. But out there? In a city? What am I? Who am I?
I don’t want to be a disappointment. The fear of failing, of fumbling, of fucking up, crawls into my voice. “What if I can’t adapt?”
She stops, turning to face me, her eyes earnest. “Then we adapt together. We find our way, like we always do. But I need you to promise me something.”
I grunt.
She snorts. Then her expression sobers. “Don’t lose yourself in the change. Remember who you are and hold on to that.”
“I don’t know how to be anything else but this.”
“Cool. Because I’m kind of obsessed with this.” She waves a hand over my body, making my cock twitch. “You and Leo, exactly as you are, can take on anything, including a new life.”
As we resume our journey, her words echo in my thoughts, a mix of warnings and promises, fears and dreams. The prospect of leaving behind a lifetime of isolation for the bustling life of a world I’ve only ever known through books and stories…it’s daunting.
But the promise of a new life with her? I’m grabbing hold of that with both fucking hands.
The final stretch is a monumental effort, but our pace carries an undercurrent of urgency, a desperate need to find shelter.
When the hunting cabin finally emerges on the dark horizon, we slow to a stop.
“We made it.” Her eyes, wide with disbelief, regard the modest shadow.