Tom Hayden hauled the last bag of firewood down the path and dropped it on the ground near the front door of the cabin.
He stretched his back, taking another look at the scenery around him. The sun was almost set in the early summer sky, a splashes of elusive coloured light were filtering in through the trees around him.
Despite the warm weather they'd had earlier in the day, the air was rapidly growing cold and Tom shivered in his duffel jacket. He breathed in a lung full of air and smiled, smelling the sweet zest of pine trees.
Turning, he opened the cabin door, heaved the bag of fire wood into his arms and carried it in, carefully shutting the door with his foot.
The place was warm and rustic; a small, slate-floored kitchen, which you had to step up to and which over looked the lounge with its big sofas and log burner; two bedrooms leading off the main room, with a little bathroom in between. It was nice.
Tom liked that there was no wall in between the kitchen and the lounge, so you could be in one room and still have a conversation with someone in the other; he thought he might be able to re-create it in his own house; he'd have to work harder to have it though; he'd down right agreed with the opposition on the last case.
Strangely, it was that case that had brought him to Drifters End in the first place; his client, a wealthy hunter by the name of Bray Martin, had heard there had been wolf sightings in a place called Drifters End.
The animal was said to have somewhat of a mystical status by now; a black wolf weighing nearly two hundred pounds, with eyes like polished steel; seeming to be a vegetarian; and either unreal or possessed with the power of becoming invisible at will.
The thought of how much money could be made on killing it had sent Bray Martin out to hunt. He'd been caught trying to shoot the animal half a mile from drifters end, and the evidence against him was astounding, so it was no surprise that they lost the case.
His boss had been furious, but Tom was almost surprised to find he didn't care.
He remembered thinking 'I'm twenty seven years old, but I feel nearer to fifty...I should really quit this job' just minutes before he was handed the case and afterward, he dearly wished he had. How could he defend a man he thought belonged in jail?
He disliked hunters, a trait he shared with his friend and ex-girlfriend, Kate Denver. He was looking forward to seeing Kate tonight. It had been nearly a month since he'd seen her and he knew she'd understand his frustrations with work.
She always did; that was the problem with their relationship. They'd always been really good friends before they started sleeping together and it was no different now. The fact that they'd had sex was no different from times they'd shared at school; it was just something they used to do together. Like two friends helping each other out in times of need and he was glad; she was a damn good friend.
He boiled a kettle for tea and stood thinking.
These trips away always got him thinking. It was a time when all his friends would get together and act no differently from when they were kids in the same year of high school. He liked that too.
Matt would be here tonight, his best friend from high school, as well as Jilly Marks. Tom wasn't surprised when they'd started seeing each other, only surprised they hadn't done it sooner.
Throughout their school years, Matt had always fancied Jilly. She'd fancied him too; you could tell because he was the only one she didn't flirt with. But at twenty seven, she was sweeter now; more grounded and attentive, though always up for a laugh.
They suited each other, Tom always thought.
More than anyone else, though he hated to admit it to himself, he was looking forward to seeing Sarah Davenport.
It had been a whole year since he'd seen her.
At their last trip, she'd given him her new phone number and told him to call. She suggested that they could meet up sometime but Tom hadn't managed to find the courage to make the call. He'd had a crush on her since the age of fifteen and the idea of being alone with her, just the two of them out alone, after all this time...it was too much for Toms mind to handle.
He was sure, given those circumstances, that he wouldn't be able to resist taking her.
Just then, his mobile rang, dragging him forcefully from his reverie. He crossed the cabin to pick it up off the kitchen sideboard.
The number was Matt's.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hiya mate...look, me and Jilly are still some way off yet and it's getting kinda late, so we were thinking of bedding down at a motel or something and heading out to you in the morning, okay?"
Tom felt a little disappointed, but then checked himself. This was their holiday too and after all, he wasn't sure he wanted to listen to their grunts and squeals all night.
He laughed. "No problem...just take it easy will you? You're not too young to have a heart attack you know, especially with the amount of beer you drink."
"I'll bear that in mind mate..." Matt laughed wryly. "You have fun with the ladies now..." and with that, he hung up.
The thought hadn't occurred to Tom, but spending the night with his beautiful ex-girlfriend and the stunning Sarah Davenport, the girl he'd had a crush on since the age of fifteen, was either going to be his wildest dream or a night of sheer torture.
Tom put his phone down on the arm of the chair, fetched himself a beer and sat down, thinking about Kate and Sarah.
They were complete opposites really; Kate was thin and pale skinned, with deep blue eyes and long, silky blonde hair; Sarah was bronzed, black eyed and fuller figured with short hair the colour of rich hazel. Sarah had such innocent eyes, whereas Kate's had a lot of pain hidden in them.
Yet despite all their opposites, they were the two most attractive women he'd ever laid eyes on.
Kate perhaps more so in a sense; he'd always found it easy to talk to her; they shared the same interests and she had something lost and untameable about her that he'd never been able to figure out in all his years of knowing her. He felt pain for her, though rarely pity. He loved her confidence and smiles and yet she terrified him most when she didn't think he was watching her; when her mind would wander and that black look would come across those wild eyes and he could see her like a fragile scrap of lace in a vast and stormy ocean.
He would never understand her, he was sure.
