"If the cold doesn't kill you, the wolves will."
NOT A WEREWOLF STORY
Book 1 of 2.
In which an 18-year-old girl flees to Alaska to escape being accused of murder & to uncover what happened to her uncle. Involves two gentle giants.
Completed. :)
Fea...
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A/N: I cried while writing this.
Chapter 47 | FRIEND TURNED MEMORY
The second half of January passes by without much excitement, thankfully, and not much has changed.
Okay, practically nothing has changed; everything is still the same, in terms of cabin life. We continue to go about our usual routines, which consist of mutually cleaning, cooking, reading, chess, bonfires, and occasionally fishing. Separately, he usually gets firewood while I shoot the bow since he still won't let me touch a gun, and I brush and play with Moose when he goes hunting for the second time.
I'm thankful he doesn't try to convince me to go, whatever the reason he may have for it.
However, I'd like to think one sure thing has changed. It's small, so maybe I imagine it, but Vaughn seems...nicer?
For example, if I get hurt in any way, like accidentally bumping into something like the clumsy person I am, he'll seem...almost concerned, and consistently ask me if I'm okay or how I'm doing throughout the day.
It's strange, and I really don't know what to make of it.
I don't complain about it or mention it, though, mainly because I like it.
Today is the second of February, a Sunday, and I find it hard to believe how fast the first month of 2020 went by, especially since I didn't really do all that much.
It's pleasant, though, and I'm thoroughly enjoying my time with Vaughn and Moose as usual. Spending so much time together...it's so new to me.
I've always--always preferred to be alone, especially during activities I enjoyed, like reading. But now, I find a gentle peace in reading while Vaughn does the same a few feet away.
It makes me feel included in some way. I don't feel the desperate need to always be alone like I did before, because the mutual silence and trust between us allows for the company.
But at the same time, the comfort found in this cozy cabin regular routine feels like the calm before the storm.
And I know it is because I know that I can't run and hide forever; I guess I merely want it to last as long as possible.
I don't even know how I'll be able to forget about all of this when it's over; I think it will be too hard to. I'll miss the warmth from the woodstove, the safety of the cabin walls, the good morning greetings from Moose, and the little quips and looks exchanged with Vaughn.
I plan on leaving for the village again on Wednesday, and I surprise myself when I opt to inform Vaughn about it a few days earlier than usual.
Sitting up from the cot where I've been reading one of the poetry books he owns, I lean back on my forearms as I look at the man standing by the woodstove with his back to me.
