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)
It’s a simple structure, solitary and stoic against the harsh landscape, made of weathered wood that has stood the test of many winters. There’s no plumbing. No windows. Just one room that serves as my haven during hunting season.
The best part? It has a hearth and an abundant supply of firewood and heavy fur pelts that Denver hauled in years ago. We’ll be able to dry our wet clothes and thaw our frozen limbs.
From this distance, it’s a faint outline. But I find myself scanning the ground for boot tracks and scenting the air for wood smoke.
Beside me, she remains motionless, her eyes sweeping over the tiny shape and its surroundings with a fervor that matches mine.
Unspoken questions hover between us.
Could Wolf have survived? Did he find refuge here?
As we draw closer, my entire body is sensitized to pick up on any signs of him—depressions in the snow that might suggest the presence of waste holes, discarded animal bones or scraps from meals, worn paths left by repeated trips between the cabin and the stream.
But the snow appears uniformly unmarked, and the chimney stands cold and silent against the night sky.
The absence of human presence adds to the growing anxiousness between us. We linger at the threshold of the cabin, the door sealed and offering no sound.
“No signs of bears.” I remove my gloves, my throat thick. “The pemmican should be safe.”
That’s why we’re here, but neither of us is focused on that.
Trembling fingers caress the chilled tips of mine.
I squeeze her hand and reach for the door with my other, hesitating. The possibility that Wolf might be inside, alive and waiting, is a hope so powerful it’s paralyzing.
Hope is a treacherous bitch.
It crushes, darling.
She watches me, her expression a mirror of my rising disquiet.
With a deep breath, I push the door open, the creak of its hinges cutting through the silence like a verdict.
The interior greets us with darkness, dusty and untouched. The hearth is cold, the wood stacked neatly beside it, exactly how I left it.
The crushing emptiness squeezes around us, thinning the air, making it hard to breathe.
Her pack drops to the floor, and she shuffles away, giving me her back. Her shoulders tremble, and quietly, almost imperceptibly, she begins to cry.
The sound of her sobs, muffled by the thick wool of her gloves, is gutting.
I’m on her in three strides, my heart cracking at the sight of her anguish. It’s an instinct, as natural as breathing, to protect her from this pain, to shield her from it.
Gathering her into my arms, I hold her tightly, trying to absorb her suffering, to take it all upon myself.
“He can’t be gone, Kody. He can’t.”
He is. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back.
But what solace can the truth offer against the raw, gaping wound of loss?
“If only I’d given him more.” She collapses into me as quiet tears shake her frame. “Had I been enough, the partner he needed, he would be here—”
“Stop.” I kiss her face, her lips, her wet cheeks, and stare into her watery eyes. “Hear me, woman. You’re more than enough. You were the best thing in his life. His decision to give up has nothing to do with your worth. His fate was frozen the moment he killed his mother. He never came back from that.”
“I know, but I hate it. For him, for you and Leo. I hate this pain so much.”
“I’m here. Not going anywhere.”
I feel the depth of my loss in the soundless release of her sobs. It’s a hot, twisting clench that never lets go.
My mind races, searching for something, anything, to ease her sorrow. But there are no words, no actions that can heal this.
Time, maybe. But Wolf left a deep, enduring mark on us. If I ever see him again, in this life or the next, I’m going to beat his fucking ass.
For now, I do the only thing I can. I sit with her in the dark, holding her through a grief that consumes us both.
When her sniffles give way to sleep, I know the pain hasn’t left. It’s merely settled. But together, we’ll carry it, sharing the burden as we’ve shared every challenge since our paths converged.
Tucking her against me, I strike a match and light the fire.
In the warmth of the crackling flames, I build a nest of fur pelts, strip us down to our thermal underclothes, and settle us into bed.
Through it all, she doesn’t wake, and that suits me just fine. I’m ready to join her.
The cabin, though empty without Wolf, offers a bounty of pemmican and sanctuary from the night. With a heavy beam securing the door, nothing is getting in. Not the howling wind or the predators or the obstacles that await us tomorrow.
Not tonight.
An unsettling sound stirs me from sleep. I open my eyes to the glitter of dying embers in the hearth, the soft luster barely illuminating the room.