AUTHOR'S NOTE
Apologies for the delayed release of this chapter. My family goes hard for thanksgiving, (And the holidays in general) and it sapped away all my free time. However, I am now back and ready to continue writing. Enjoy!
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Chapter 5
Frigid Woes
[Bjarke]
Even after a full night's sleep the feeling of Derrick's hand wrapped around me lingered. I'm not sure where I acquired the strength to remove myself before things escalated, but I couldn't be more thankful to the arrival of such willpower. I was dangerously close to taking him right then and there. His lips looked so soft; I knew kissing him would feel great. I had to guess that they'd feel even better wrapped around my more sensitive spots. This feeling ... it's like a disease. Now that those images are in my head, I can't seem to remove them.
I felt bad walking downstairs to the sight of Derrick back on the floor. Pushing him aside in the shower must have made him feel like crap. I vowed to never make anyone feel like that again and here I was repeating my past. Years of progress seemingly gone!
There's a part of me that wishes I had never found Derrick ... well, no, that's not true. I wouldn't want him to have froze to death. Guess I just wish that he had never even come to Alaska.
When he awoke I was already finished with my meal. I left him his portion and headed outside. The shoveled pathways needed some touch ups, and I think the water jugs under the sink were close to empty. While the latter was true, the pathways were not in need of being shoveled--I just needed an excuse to keep my mind busy.
Shoveling without gloves in low temperatures wasn't ideal but going back inside to get them would mean running into an awake Derrick which I did not want to do right now.
The cold sank its teeth into my fingers sending pains all through my hand. It felt like miniature knives were injected right beneath the skin, floating around, cutting up anything in their path.
The next few days proceeded in becoming a monotonous quota. I did chores to avoid Derrick, and repeating chores helped exacerbate that. He was peeved by my reluctance to be around him ... and while I did care, I still avoided him whenever possible.
One morning, when I went to take out something for dinner, I realized that we were once again low on meat. Because there were now two mouths to feed I suited up, grabbed my bow, and headed for the front door. Before leaving outside I turned around and called out about where I was going. Since I left right after, I wasn't sure if Derrick had heard me. Not like it matters though.
The wind out in nature was calm, the air cool--it was perfect conditions to hunt. Arrows rattled around in the quiver on my back and my feet sank into deep snow upon every step. There wasn't much commotion from the forest dwellers, extending my search far longer than I had intended.
Snow decorated every tree surrounding me. The way it weighed down branches made it look like a blanket, giving everything it managed to touch a gently cold hug. Walking north brought me to a small drop-off where--finally--I found something to actually hunt. A bird landed to peck at something on the ground, unaware of my presence. Carefully I lifted an arrow out of my quiver, strung it back until my knuckles brushed against my cheek, and let loose the string, striking the life out of the avian being. After wrapping it to my waist and tightening the bonds I moved onwards, deeper into the forest.
By midday exhaustion had invited itself into my body, taking a toll on my stamina. Hunting always made me sweat profusely, and it now applied a suction effect to my clothes. It suffocated me, making the hunt nearly unbearable. The sun had moved far across the sky, hovering directly above. There wasn't a single living being in sight or sound. Not a crunch of snow nor a whistle of birds. Complete nothingness.
The rest of my hunt only illuminated a few squirrels of which I was unable to catch--and a fox now hanging from my belt.
Further into the dense towers of branches I went, moving myself a large distance from the cabin. This ten-year long isolation had been a blessing, only to be ruined by a stray redhead. Worst of all, it was a redhead who made my will melt away. Anyone from my past could attest to how weak I've always been. But this new guy was something else.
Much to my disappointment I've always done what others told me to do. I've never been able to say no. That weakness kept dropping me into awful situations that I only regretted after either the drugs, the booze, or the fog of sex had worn off. Since my youth had I been making mistake after mistake, unable to discern a better path to walk. Thankfully I did--eventually--make a new road to place my feet on. If only that solid ground wasn't crumbling away.
When my tracks stretched miles, pains called out from the bottoms of my feet, begging for a rest. There was a flat rock ahead that I plopped myself down upon. It seemed impossible for my mind not to be utterly engrossed in whatever thoughts came sauntering into my head. When it came to clearing my mind, I was the worst, but somehow, I looked past the mess and saw the world, tranquil and serene as it were. Sounds became easier to focus in on, from rustles of branches above to the distant sounds of nature. Behind all those sounds was peace, and behind the peace something more sinister.
While my legs took a break, I became aware of the shiver of searing eyes burning into my person. Wolf, bear, lynx ... I wasn't sure what was stalking me, only that it saw me as an easy meal. Being careful while hunting was never a conscious thought to me as it was something I did instinctually. Now, with all this stuff in my head, I found myself treading ground recklessly.
Without knowing what it was that had me in its sights I had no way of preparing. I kept on acting normal, no sudden movements that would be either too aggressive or too submissive.
My ears gave away that it couldn't be a predator of considerable size, crossing a bear or wolf off my list. It was most likely a feline type of predator. Fierce and fast, as most of them are.
Each finger on my hand trembled in anticipation like a restless trigger finger. I was a fast draw with a bow, but considering the speed of most animals, I'd only get one shot.
Best case scenario was finding a clearing. If I could get enough open space, then defending against it would be much easier. Too many trees surrounded me like a defensive wall ... like a prison for unsuspecting hunters. How well I--or anyone for that matter--knew this forest would help little against the disorienting nature of hill and brush. A master cartographer could lose their way in such dense woodland terrain. It didn't help that I was panicking which only accelerated my teetering sense of direction.
The more I put one foot ahead of the other the more lost I became. Being so focused on the fear that had stowed away inside my chest led me astray. I was coming across boulders I'd never seen, and mountainous structures that were holy unfamiliar. All while still being trailed by whatever had its sights on me.
Only when the sun began descending did I realize how out of luck I was. If night arrived before I could get home, or at the very least find some familiar ground, then I doubt I'd be making it home at all.
This could be the end ... an end I most assuredly did not deserve.
