Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 939(@200wpm)___ 751(@250wpm)___ 626(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 939(@200wpm)___ 751(@250wpm)___ 626(@300wpm)
“Marking our territory,” I explain. “Why else? If you don’t want the wolf coming back…” I let my point hang since they’re smart boys and continue draining the hose along the outer edges of our turf.
There’s a beat of contemplative silence, and then the sound of zippers lowering as Khalil and Thorin join me.
Anything for Sunshine.
AURELIA
The cookbooks, which one of those creepy bastards left stacked on the nightstand for me, might as well be in a foreign language: braise, core, dredge, sauté, and brine.
I don’t understand any of it.
This morning, I’d woke up once again in the bed of twisted branches, and it had been only slightly less jarring than before. It wouldn’t have been bad at all if not for the mysterious nausea and stomach cramps that roused me. The sick feeling only intensified when I realized I hadn’t slept alone. Khalil was already gone when I awoke, but the indentation in the pillow and the lingering warmth of the sheets told me as much.
I’d taken a much-needed shower only after making sure I was alone in the cabin, and then I donned the peasant dress because it was the only thing I had left that was mine. The constant was a constant reminder that I didn’t belong here and that I had a life waiting for me outside of this cabin.
I’m sure if the guys knew that, they’d burn it, so mum’s the word.
Despite their warning that they expected three hot meals a day, the guys hadn’t dragged me out of bed to cook for them again. With great satisfaction and amusement, I wonder if it’s because they weren’t looking forward to sampling my amazing culinary skills again so soon.
At the moment, I’m sitting cross-legged on the unbelievably cozy bear rug in front of the fire upstairs, studying recipes for canning and making butter because it’s better than dwelling on reality.
I may never leave this mountain.
If I’m not found, I’ll be confined to this cabin for the rest of my life. It’s not like my captors could take me into town and introduce me as their girlfriend or anything. I’m too recognizable, and thanks to the plane crash, that now includes the people in this remote corner of the world.
Maybe in a few years, but I doubt they’ll take the risk.
After reaching the end of the first cookbook without finding a recipe that seems possible for my limited skills, I don’t even bother reading the others. Wiping my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand, I stand on unsteady feet and walk toward the kitchen.
The sound of something snapping and then a pained squeal draws my attention toward the side door just off the kitchen. I didn’t understand what could have made the sound until I searched behind the trash can and saw a wooden mouse trap and the gray furry rodent caught under the clamp. It squeals and wiggles to be free, but the trap’s hold on it is too strong.
Join the club, Ratatouille.
Shuddering, I leave it there since I’m no fucking exterminator. I pour myself a glass of water and sip it slowly as I wait for the feeling that I’m about to vomit to fade. When I’m sure I won’t pass out, I walk the cabin for the third time since my arrival.
You know how you walk into a room and immediately know something is missing, but you can’t put your finger on it?
The feeling started yesterday when Khalil showed me around, but it’s amplified now that I’m alone, and I don’t have Khalil, Thorin, or Seth watching my every move. I don’t realize what’s missing until I’m back in the den, staring at the back wall in disbelief.
The weapons are gone.
The crossbow, rifles, spare hunting knives, and other shit that I can’t even name are missing. There’s also a noticeably empty space on the console table that I could have sworn had been occupied before.
A record player?
No.
A radio. And not the kind that gets your favorite music station.
There had also been a huge map on the adjacent wall, but it’s gone now.
It takes me a moment longer to piece together why Thorin, Khalil, and Seth would go through the trouble of moving all of their gear.
They’d hid it.
My guess is while I was out of it.
I eye the tall metal locker in the corner. There are chains with thick, rusted links wrapped around the handles and a padlock to secure it.
To keep me out of it?
Definitely.
Instinctively, I turn and round the couch until I’m standing over the footlocker they use as a coffee table. Had that lock been there before? I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure. My memory is good but not photographic good.
Collapsing on the couch, I stare at the floor, but then all I can see is me on my knees that first night, so I close them until the memory fades, and I don’t feel so dangerously close to splintering apart.