Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Bringing the snowmobile to rest in my garage, I toss my tool bag in the corner and stretch out as I walk out and look at the beautiful lake that’s below me. Yeah, if I’m going to build my own home, I’m going to pick an especially nice one to be nearby. A lake is below me, and even frozen solid, it’s awe inspiring to look at. During my gaze over it all, I notice some dark clouds hanging off in the distance. The skies are clear now, but another layer of snow is going to be rolling in soon.
A glance over at my wood stockpile lets me know that I probably should touch up on that. I grab an axe and pick up some logs, going over to the stump I use to split them. Swing after swing, I get into the flow. Cutting wood is almost meditation for me, not to mention one hell of a workout. If all the building and farm work didn’t keep me in shape, this would have done the job.
Sweat builds down my body and I’m pretty hot and bothered despite the freezing chill all around me. I’ve split enough logs to stay good and toasty for a while, so I toss my handiwork in the appropriate bin, and head inside. I take a towel out of my linen closet and head right back out.
There’s another lil feature of this location I’d chosen to build my home. A rushing little stream, flowing out from a hot spring, so it doesn’t freeze over during the winter. It’s still cold as fuck, but it was clean, fresh water right there year round for me to enjoy, for whatever purpose I desire.
For me, this is a little bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. I strip off my jacket, getting ready to do a little bit of private skinny dipping.
I stop a moment as I see a white wolf walking through the snow, sniffing the ground and on the prowl. I raise an eyebrow. They’re an odd sight, as they usually aren’t this close to humans. It picks up the pace, running away as it briefly notices me. I don’t think anything of it, the forest is theirs as much as it is mine, and most wolves are more scared of people than we are of them.
As I go for my belt though, I hear snarling. Then a scream. A human scream, and one of a woman. I stop what I’m doing, and get a move on. I dart through the trees, hearing the snarling continue and the pleas in the distance.
“Good doggie. Wolfie? Whatever you are, I don’t have any treats for you.”
I see her.
Red, flowing locks drape her pale, freckled face. She’s the most delightfully curvy woman I've ever seen, a proper Irish lass with glowing blue eyes, and all in all? Absolutely beautiful.
“Go on. Go away. I’m not going to hurt you. Please, go away,” she echoes, the fear in her voice very clear.
The wolf has her backed into a corner, a short plateau. It’s showing zero intention of backing off, it’s hunger driving it to go for the riskiest meal.
My fists ball up, and I act before I can think.
2
RED
I don’t know why my grandma insisted on living in the middle of the forest not far from the Canadian border. She says she wanted to get away from it all, live far away from where people would ever bother her again, but there’s places that are far more temperate to do that in. Like, Wyoming. No one lives in Wyoming. Or maybe somewhere rural in the south. No one would ever find her in the middle of nowhere in, like, Arkansas. And there’s far less snow in Arkansas.
The closest town of any size is a place called Linesworth. It’s a bit of a hike to even get out there from her place, and most of the modern conveniences like rideshare apps refuse to function in such a remote location.
So I walked. This is a trip that she took all the time apparently, but she’s come down with a nasty cold. It might be pneumonia, and I insist on taking her to a doctor, but it will be a few days before I can do that, so for now I’m just doing whatever I can for her.
I’m a city girl. My father equipped me best he could for walking long distances in the snow, but I can’t say I’m adapting to it well. It’s eerily quiet as I’m coming back from the grocery store, a few straw bags in hand. I got some roast and vegetables, enough to make a good, hearty meal for my grandmother and keep us warmed up through the coming storm.
I just wished the walk wasn’t so long. And that there was better cell phone reception out here. Oh well. I guess I should make the most of it. It’s one of those internet detoxes I read about online.