by Sam Crescent
Abel had his rifle slung over his shoulder, his gaze alert and tracking everything. A twig snapped in the distance and he stopped, crouching low and bringing his rifle close, listening. This was how he got dinner, how he survived living out in the middle of nowhere. Hunting for food was essential, and although sometimes things were scarce, stocking up and making sure he had supplies ahead of time was the only way one could make it out here.
He sat there for long moments, listening, focused. After a few minutes he finally stood and started making his way again. The sun would be starting to set within the hour, and he’d need to backtrack to the cabin before nightfall.
The only thing that surrounded him for miles were trees, flora and fauna, and the silence that stretched out for days on end. It was what he lived for, this isolation and being alone that made him connect with himself and content all around. It was also the fact he’d never been a “people person,” preferring to be on his own since he was younger.
So for the last two decades he’d lived by himself. No electricity. No running water. He was totally off the grid, cutting his own firewood, curing his own meat. He had a cistern for rainwater, gas lanterns for light. This was how he preferred to live and now he always would.
The scent of impending rain filled his head. There was a storm coming. He felt it in his bones. Focusing on the task at hand, he let his mind wander.
But what he was missing, what he wanted more than his isolation was a woman, a wife, and a mother to his children. But given the fact he stayed to himself and very rarely ventured into town, finding that mate was pretty fucking impossible. Beside, what woman wanted a life in the middle of nowhere? No TV, no hot showers, no technology.
But this male instinct to claim his woman, to make her his, fill her with his seed, rode him hard. He wanted that and so much more. He wanted a companion, wanted someone to grow old with, who understood his need to be away from others.
Yeah, he wanted that really fucking badly.
Abel stoked the fire and put the poker to the side. He walked over to his worn leather chair and sat down, exhaling as his muscles ached. He was a big man, tall and muscular from working outside all day every day. Survival made a man powerful. He had to be if he wanted to make it out here. The wilderness wasn’t for the weak.
He brought his beer to his mouth and took a long drink. On one of the rare times he ventured into town to get supplies he’d picked up a case of beer. He was down to his last six, but it was nice having a cold drink after a hard day of work. But running his generator just to keep perishables fresh wasn’t something he did often. He canned his food, fruits and veggies so he didn’t have to worry about keeping shit cold. Jerky, dried meats and fishes, as well as preserves and making his own bread in his stone oven were things he’d learned how to do in order to stay alive.
He was self-sufficient and it worked well for him.
The flash of lightning followed by the sound of thunder came through. Then the downpour started, rain shattering against the windows, violent pellets threatening to break through.
The sound of three knocks on his front door had everything in him standing on alert. Abel was out of the chair with his shotgun in hand in a matter of seconds. His body was taut, his muscles contracted. Whoever was at his door couldn’t be up to any good, not when he was out in the middle of nowhere and known around town as someone to stay away from.
If they thought they could fuck with him they were in for a surprise.
He tore open the door, his shotgun at his side and at the ready. But when he saw the person standing on his porch soaking wet, her long red hair hanging on either side of her pale face, water dripping from the ends, his body grew even more taut. She was shivering. Her arms wrapped around herself, her body so small and fragile.
And just like that he’d found her, like this imprint that came over him. Whoever this woman was, she was his.
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