by C. R. Turner
It’s getting dark and the temperature is dropping fast, so I light the fireplace. After dinner, Max and I sit near the fireplace as it crackles away. I look at the bunks. My guess is that they were used by members of the armed forces when doing survival training. I wonder if my father stayed here.
The following day, we head off to do some hunting. I have my jacket on and my scarf wrapped around my face to keep warm, bow and arrows over my shoulder. Max keeps trotting ahead, but I call him back. “You stay nearby.”
Several hours later, we return with a deer slung over Max’s back, already bled out. I hang it up from the veranda then go inside to stoke the fireplace, preparing to salt and smoke the meat. When I’m ready, I carefully cut around the deer carcass and peel its hide back, careful not to ruin the skin. Max gets his usual hindquarter.
Several months go by with no sign of anyone else. Max and I have been hunting far and wide, seeing hundreds of deer and the occasional pride of Bellona. I’ve been making Max a coat from deerskins and have just finished it in time as the season shifts to winter, the nights now feeling like eternity. As I’m unsure how hard winter will be, I’ve been hunting a lot and growing vegetables in the back yard, making sure we have plenty of supplies to make it through the winter. There’s something therapeutic about the hard labour of chopping firewood, mindless yet rewarding, and I’ve accumulated a massive pile, stacked up next to the cabin.
The temperature has been dropping rapidly day after day, and I’ve seen strange flecks in the air, dancing about erratically before falling to the ground. Snowflakes, I presume. It’s been hard work preparing for winter but for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m somewhere I belong. I guess I have my father’s legacy of Arcadia to thank for both Max and I making it here. I don’t even want to imagine where Max and I would be right now if it wasn’t for his influence. It’s the closest I’ve felt to my father in years. I only wish we could’ve come here together. I can now appreciate what he was talking about when he said coming here was a spiritual awakening. Something deep inside of me has shifted, and I’ve discovered a peace I’ve never known.
One morning, I crawl out of bed and wrap my arms around myself to keep warm. Through the window that overlooks the grassy field to the ocean, I see the field blanketed in white and a steady stream of snowfall. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen snow and I rush outside barefoot, holding my hands open to the sky. The pine tree branches bend under the weight of drifts, and the usual lush green fields are a winter wonderland. I turn to look at the cabin, its roof covered in white too.
Max walks out and stands at the edge of the veranda, looking at me. I chuckle. He’s probably wondering what the hell I’m doing. “It’s snowing,” I say as I walk back to the cabin, snow crunching under my feet. I pat Max and turn to look out over the forest towards the ocean. “Do you want to go hunting one more time?” Max recognises the word ‘hunting’ and jumps down the steps, landing on the snow. I laugh. “Well wait a minute and I’ll get my stuff.”
Towards the end of the day, the snow is getting heavier and Max and I are heading back to the cabin. We’re walking out of the forest and across the field that surrounds the cabin, now covered in several inches of snow. Max, wearing his deerskin coat, trots along, his large paws crushing the snow under his enormous weight and leaving a trail behind us. I’m riding bareback, holding on to his reins, my bow and arrow slung on my back. We’ve successfully hunted for Bellona for the first time — the big cat slung over Max’s back, behind me.
Something catches my eye and I look up. A person is standing a distance away at the top of the field, looking down at us. Their face is obscured by a hooded jacket. I squeeze Max gently, and we head towards the person. Halfway across the field, and just a short distance to the cabin, I pull on Max’s reins. Both he and I look at the person through the falling snow, unsure what to do. Just as I’m about to call out, the person lifts their hood. My face lights up. Samantha smiles back.
