Page 16 of Deadfall

“No. A plane drops the crates about a two-day hike from here.”

With the snow coming any day now, I’d always wondered where he got all the other stuff he needed to get himself through the winter.

“I have to take Fang with me,” Sacha continued. “Can’t bring it all back myself.”

I didn’t like that. Usually Fang stayed with me while Sacha was gone. He made me feel safe, and less alone.

“Can I come?” I asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

He looked up sharply. “I said no.”

I knew that tone well enough not to push him.

“What about the wood pile?” I asked.

“There’s enough until I get back.”

I put my hands on my hips and stared skeptically at the stacks in the workshop. Four days would put a pretty big dent in our stores without Sacha chopping it every morning. I had yet to touch a weapon of any sort, the ax included. Sacha hadn’t pushed in that area, but seeing as it would now impact life around here, I wasn’t so sure that had been smart. He saw where I was looking and stopped what he was doing.

“Don’t touch the ax,” he ordered. He stood up and loomed over me. “I mean it. While I’m gone is not the time to learn how to chop wood.”

I knew better than to argue so I nodded curtly, and resolved to try and get over my issue with weapons as soon as possible.

The next morning, I got up earlier than normal to make sure I didn’t miss his departure. The moment I heard the creak of his door, I quickly got dressed and went into the living room. He was busy adding a few things to his pack. It was still dark outside, but the grey of the forest spoke of dawn not too far away.

Fang was in a frenzy and wound his way around Sacha as though he knew he was going along. I followed them both out onto the lawn where Sacha hauled a dry-land sled from the workshop and loaded a few things onto it. I gave Fang some last minute ear scratches—I already missed him. Sacha clicked to him and he went and stood between the slats of the sled, patiently waiting while Sacha slipped a harness over him.

“Keep up with your workouts,” he called and turned for the trees.

I folded my arms around myself, both to ward against the chill of the morning and also the sense of ominous foreboding at being left alone.

He’d just about disappeared into the forest when I blurted out; “Be safe!”

The urge to run after him was very strong, and I realized I’d grown quite attached to both of them in a short amount of time. The idea gnawed at me. The last time I’d left people I cared about alone, they’d been murdered. I stood on the steps long after he and Fang disappeared, until the yard lightened and the morning birds were well into their morning symphonies.

Going from being nearly completely solitary in the library, to this, I realized how much I had come to depend on Sacha and Fang’s company, and how much I enjoyed not being alone. My throat thickened, but instead of crying, I went back inside to start my morning. Without wood to stack, I went straight into my workout and completed it well before lunch. Then I swam in the river and dried off in the sun, lying on my favorite rock. When I got hungry, I ventured inside and put together something to eat.

Despite my activities, the afternoon dragged on. I tried to read but I couldn’t pay attention, and as soon as I had to re-read a page three times, I tossed aside the book and sighed—this was going to be a long four days.

8

EMERSYN

Age 13

By dinnertime, I dreaded sundown. It would be the first time being alone, truly alone, in a forest I was just getting to know. I fed the fire and huddled in an armchair, staring into the flames. The windows didn’t have curtains, and they yawned like black voids into a demonic landscape—hiding everything outside, but leaving me exposed. Every creak of a board, or call of an animal, set my nerves on edge until I fought through the suffocating anxiety. My imagination went wild as it came up with crazy scenarios, and threatened to reduce me into a puddle of fearful tears.

It was exhausting, but I couldn’t sleep. Every time I drifted off, something would startle me awake. I didn’t feel comfortable going back into my bedroom, convinced the minute I did, I’d hear things out here and make matters worse. At some point, sleep finally claimed me, but my dreams were far from safe.

I shut the book I was reading and leaned my head against the window. The cold chill of late autumn frosted the glass as it attempted to enter the warm interior of the house. But I didn't feel the chill as my breath fogged the panes.

As the sun dipped below the trees, I tossed the book of French fables onto the window bench. In the three years I’d been a resident of this place, I’d read nearly every single book in the surprisingly vast library. Everything from the classics to the dictionary. Because of that, I knew a bunch of useless facts. I knew that in Japan a samurai’s sword was considered his soul, and that the word “mort” meant both death and fool, depending on the language. I knew in Russian folklore, a house could walk on chicken legs, and that there are more stars in the sky than grains of sand on earth. I knew that monks once bled themselves in order to observe God, and that Marie Antoinette’s last words were an apology for stepping on her executioner’s foot.

Reading that annoyed me because, girl, why are we apologizing to a man about to kill you?