“Okay, fine! You win!” I say, holding my hands up in surrender. “I suck at being in Alaska. I don’t know how to build a fire, I’m scared shitless of being eaten by a reindeer, I can barely find my cabin in the daylight, much less the dark, and I’d give anythingto be back in L.A. with my sister. But did you ever stop to think that maybe there’s areasonI banished myself to Winterfell?”
While I’ve been ranting, Forrest’s expression has undergone minute changes. His dark eyebrows remain at full furrow, and his jaw looks tight enough to crack a bolt in half, but there’s something new in the depths of his green eyes. Is itremorse?
“It was to research your book. That’s why you came,” he says, like any conclusion he draws is the right one.
I open my mouth in a ditzy expression of surprise and put a finger to my dimple. “Oh! So that’s why I came. Thanks so much for explaining my own reasoning to me.”
His eye twitches. “Is thatnotyour reasoning?”
“No, it’s not,” I say darkly, suddenly wondering if #Pantiesof Lies is still trending.
“Then why—”
“It’s none of your business! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to writing. Thanks for putting out the fire.”
I’ve already turned when he says, “Wait.” When I don’t stop, he lets out a strained “Please.”
I toss a look over my shoulder. Forrest is standing in the snow with his hands in his back pockets, looking like what he’s about to say might kill him.
“There’s a letter for you.”
If I were covered in lightbulbs, every single one of them would be lit up and flashing. “Savannah,” I say, breathless. I’ve never gone this long without talking to my sister, and at the prospect of having any contact with her after this epically shit day, I’m feeling desperate. “Where is it?” I demand, stepping closer. I’m not beyond frisking him.
“Back at the lodge.”
I’m already marching past Forrest to the trail when he grabs my elbow. “Hold up. You’re not walking anywhere in those.”
Confused, I look down to see my sheepskin slippers. “Oh.Right.” I run back into the cabin for my boots, while Forrest follows to close all the windows. It smells like the inside of a meat smoker, and the fireplace is a sticky, foamy disaster, but I’ll deal with that later.
When we leave, I power-walk down the trail. Forrest’s much longer legs keep up easily, and when we reach the lodge, I follow him in like a bloodhound. “Where is it?”
He calmly walks to the desk where I signed the waiver and pulls out a drawer. He hands me the letter, and I nearly weep with relief when I see Savannah’s looping cursive on the envelope. I tear it open and pull out a sheet of paper.
Dear Margot,
I swear I can almost hear you cursing my name all the way from Alaska. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the no-Internet thing. You’ve probably been wondering why I booked you this middle-of-nowhere cabin when there are plenty of luxury resorts that would have been much more comfortable for you. But the thing is, that’s exactly what I was trying to avoid. I know how awful that sounds, and if you haven’t already burned this letter and stomped on the ashes, let me explain.
Reinvention doesn’t come for free, and it definitely doesn’t come with room service. It’s born out of pushing yourself to the limit after you’ve already endured the worst thing in your life. If you’d simply stayed home or booked yourself into a cushy resort after all your shit hit the fan, then sure, you might have been able to lick your wounds and recover. But would you have grown? Definitely not. Which is exactly why I sent you to North Star Lodge.
I’m sure by now you’ve heard about their weekly wilderness excursions. I also know you’ve probably laughedin the face of anyone who’s suggested you participate. But nowI’masking you to participate. I’m asking you to push yourself so that when you come back, you’ll have the strength to pursue whatever the hell it isyouwant for your life, regardless of what your fans, publisher, and even I want. This is your opportunity to look your fears in the eye and stare them the hell down.
To help motivate you, I’ve sent ahead a letter for every week of your stay. The proprietor knows that they’re ONLY to be given to you upon the completion of a wilderness excursion, so don’t bother trying to get them early.
Lastly, I know you’re doubting yourself. But just know that if there’s one person in the world who I believe can pull off a Swiftian reinvention, it’s my big sister. I believe in you, Margot. Go out there and climb a mountain for both of us.
Stay safe, but not too safe,
Savannah
The hand holding Savannah’s letter falls limply to my side. I stare unseeingly at a knot in the wooden floor while the inside of my chest turns over like a rock tumbler. Homesickness—no, Savannah-sickness—pricks the corners of my eyes, even while I have the urge to do exactly as she suggested and destroy the letter. She’s asking too much. She has way too much faith in my ability to cope with this place. I just nearly set myself onfire. There’s no way I can go on wilderness excursions—a fact I’ve been reminded of repeatedly since my arrival, by one person in particular. My eyes jerk up to Forrest, who’s staring at me warily. Savannah said the “proprietor” was keeping the other letters, and now I know my target.
“Where are my other letters?” I ask, slowly approaching the desk like a lioness on the hunt.
He shakes his head. “You know the deal. No excursions, no letters.”
“Bullshit,” I say, inching closer. “You and I both know that’s not happening.”
“Apparently, it is.”
