by Dani Atkins
Sitting at the roughly swept table a short while later, sipping hot maple-syrup-water from two enamel mugs I’d also found in the cupboard, it felt as though the first fledgling trappings of civilisation were subtly creeping back into our lives. For the first time since our plane fell from the skies, I actually believed we would eventually make it back home.
Apparently one successful catch didn’t qualify me as a competent angler. Despite standing for an incredibly long time, statue-still, on the banks of the river, with my spear poised in readiness, every passing fish was far too sensible to impale themselves on my pole.
‘I’m just going to try a little further downstream,’ I told Logan, as I carefully negotiated my way off the rocks without falling into the water.
‘Don’t go too far,’ he warned unnecessarily, straightening up from the task of adding to the collection of firewood we had already gathered together. ‘Stay where I can see you.’
I trudged over the stones beside the river’s edge, with a small smile on my face. Even though I hadn’t turned around, I could still feel his eyes on me, watching me, protecting me. It was ludicrous how safe he made me feel, in a place where I had probably never been less so. It was telling that I’d felt far more vulnerable in a bustling city, with a boyfriend who’d broken my trust, than I did in the wilderness with a man I scarcely knew.
I was so busy musing over that surprising revelation, that I almost missed the first sign. I automatically side-stepped an unpleasant-looking obstacle in my path, and continued for a few more paces, before coming to a slow halt and turning back around. I didn’t want to look too closely at the disgusting deposit, because even from the brief glimpse I’d taken, it looked very much like there might be bits of hair and bone embedded within it.
‘Logan!’
He came at a run, concern on his face. I pointed at the ground. ‘Scat,’ I declared, not even knowing I knew the correct word for it, until it popped right out of my mouth.
‘As in “go away”?’ he asked, but the humour faded on his face when he saw the look on mine.
‘As in poo, or dung, or droppings, or whatever. Do you think it’s from one of the wolves?’
Logan’s nose wrinkled in distaste as he crouched lower and looked at my finding before straightening up. ‘I have absolutely no idea. It could be from anything. But even if it is from a wolf, it could have been there for a very long time. There aren’t any fresh tracks around here, are there?’
He was right, there weren’t. But the terrain beside the river was covered with uneven stones, and the snow hadn’t settled there.
‘Perhaps we should just keep a little closer to the cabin?’ He made the suggestion lightly, but there was a darkness and a worried concern in his eyes as he gently took my elbow and led me away from the river’s edge.
Dry clothes, dry feet, warmth and four walls around us, and an – almost intact – roof over our heads. No five-star hotel I’d stayed in could even come close. Admittedly dinner had been a little sparse, but what was missing in food was more than made up for in optimism.
‘We now know this stretch of river is used by hunters and fishermen, or there wouldn’t be a cabin here,’ Logan reasoned. ‘So tomorrow, I suggest we continue downstream in search of another one.’
I nodded, although part of me was loath to leave our newfound warmth and security behind. ‘We’ll leave one of your arrow markers in the snow before we go,’ said Logan, passing me the very last biscuit in the packet. I shook my head and pushed the cellophane tray back towards him. I already suspected he was forgoing some of his rations in order to make sure I had enough to eat. And even though my hunger was a real and constant gnawing ache, I couldn’t allow him to do that. We both needed the energy our meagre provisions provided.
The stove had proved to be extremely effective at heating the small one-roomed cabin, and for the first time in days we were able to discard most of our heavy outer layers. I felt blissfully unencumbered and free to be wearing just my jeans and a thin cotton top. Logan had also divested himself of the thick and cumbersome borrowed garments he’d been wearing, although strangely he still looked every bit as broad and well-built without them. Wearing just a white t-shirt and jeans, I found it very hard not to be distracted by the defined muscles of his arms exposed in the short-sleeved garment.
It was a small cabin for two tall people, and perhaps it was the low-ceilinged enclosed space that reminded me that his height had been the first thing I’d noticed about him. Logan smiled when I told him that. ‘Do you want to know the first thing I noticed about you? It was your eyes,’ he said softly. He reached for the dusty bottle of whiskey, unscrewed it with one hand, and sniffed at its contents before splashing two generous measures into the enamel mugs. I sipped the fiery liquid, feeling it scorch a blazing path down my throat. Drinking on a stomach this empty might not be wise, but I swallowed deeply anyway.
‘My eyes,’ I said, lowering them to study the amber liquor in the chipped enamel container. I raised them slowly, looking at him over the rim of the mug. ‘Why was that?’
This was flirting, not just conversation. I knew it. He knew it. It was probably way beyond foolish and dangerous to be doing this in our present situation – but then wasn’t everything we’d done since the plane had crashed dangerous, in one way or another? I don’t know how I expected Logan to respond. William had always favoured a rather cheesy selection of compliments and chat-up lines. Not that they hadn’t worked on me, because obviously they had. I’m sure he’d used the same ones on the young intern too. Where again, they’d worked just fine.
Logan’s reply surprised me. ‘Because they looked sad and a little lost, even though you were trying very hard not to let it show.’
‘Not hard enough, if a total stranger could spot it from across a crowded airport terminal,’ I said, a little disappointed with his reply.
‘Well, that’s only because I was so interested in the rest of you,’ he completed, his voice lowering a little huskily on the admission.
‘You were?’
‘I was.’
His green eyes met and held mine, and although I’m sure the stove remained constant, the temperature in the room suddenly went sky high. Enough. Stop this, cried the voice of sanity and good sense in my head. I wanted to tell it to be quiet, because I really wanted to know what might happen next, but it had spoken to me in Kate’s slight Canadian twang, and that was what stopped me. This wasn’t the time, the place, or the situation where we should be doing this. If that existed at all, it certainly wasn’t now.
I got to my feet hurriedly, gathering up the whiskey bottle and enamel mugs, and hoped Logan wouldn’t question my sudden burning desire to tidy up our derelict hovel. By the time I’d repositioned the bottle in the cupboard and put the mugs in the enamel bowl, Logan had also got to his feet and was stoking the stove. The moment had gone and I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed that he’d let it slip so easily through his fingers.
Although I’d practically disappeared under a cloud of dust when I’d taken the mattress and pillows outside and beaten them against a large rock, they still smelled musty and dirty. Was that why I was suddenly so reluctant to lay down on them, or was the reason just a little more complex? I’d wrapped the pillows in two of Bob’s shirts, and laid the voluminous dressing gown on the mattress as a sheet. The bed looked inviting and terrifying all at the same time.
I took the side by the wall, pushing myself backwards so tightly against it, I could feel the bark of the wooden logs grazing the small of my back where my top rode up. Logan climbed in beside me. We had extinguished the lantern and all but one of the candles that had lit the room. The single flame now flickered like a solitary firefly in the centre of the table. Long shadows fell from every corner, making the room seem mysterious.
Logan lay on his back, his arms folded above his head. The cot was scarcely wider than a single bed, yet somehow I managed to ensure that a small sliver of space remained between his b
ody and mine. His breathing was slow and even, and I was pretty certain that he’d fallen straight to sleep. If he’d been William he’d have been snoring softly by now, lying on his back like that, but Logan was so silent I had to strain my ears for several moments before I could detect the soft and reassuring purr of his inhalation in the silent cabin.
So when, after several minutes, he finally spoke, I was startled twice over. By both his voice and what he was saying. ‘Have you decided yet, Hannah? Do you know what you’re going to do when you get back home?’
I was lying perfectly still, not moving at all, and yet my heart was tripping and stumbling, as though I were running. In a way I was. Running away from something I knew I was finally going to have to face. I could have pretended not to understand his question, but you don’t play games like that when you’ve been through this type of experience with someone. It changes you. It has to change you. And change is good. Sometimes.
‘I think so. I’ll know for sure when I see him. But I think I know what I want to do.’
He was quiet for such a long time I thought he really had gone to sleep. ‘I’m not going to ask what your decision is. Because that’s between you and him, and I don’t want to influence you in any way.’
I turned my face into the pillow, inhaling the lingering aroma of Bob’s aftershave and mildew: not the best of combinations.
‘Shit. That’s a lie,’ he said suddenly, lowering one arm and drawing me closer towards him. He didn’t kiss me, and I’m glad he had enough restraint not to, because I’m not altogether sure I did. But his words settled on me more intimately than the touch of his lips ever could. ‘I have a very deep and vested interest in hoping you end things with him. I just thought you should know that.’
Day Six
I awoke slowly, confused. The ceiling was unfamiliar, and I could see the sky through it in places, which was bewildering. The mattress beneath me was beyond lumpy, it felt like I’d slept on a layer of marbles. My hand was automatically reaching out for William, even before my brain began to finally rearrange the information and start processing it, reminding me that the man I’d curled up against for the last eight hours wasn’t William at all. And the other thing he wasn’t . . . was there in the bed beside me. I sat up, and scanned the cabin to confirm what really needed no verification. I was alone. Logan’s outer clothes and boots were also missing. The rough wooden floorboards snatched hungrily at the wool of my socks as I ran over to the window and peered through a gap in the shutters. I hadn’t realised I was hovering on the edge of agitation until the moment I saw him beside the river. A small shaky sigh of relief escaped through my lips like a soundless whistle, as I rammed my feet into trainers and reached for my jacket.
Logan was crouched low at the riverbank, the coffee pot and water flask standing beside him. He turned at the sound of the cabin door opening and smiled at me over his shoulder. My own responding smile felt a little tremulous and strangely nervous. The words he’d spoken late in the night, into the darkness of the cabin, were still very much with me. I hadn’t known how I’d felt about them last night, and I still didn’t.
Without waiting to be asked, I crossed to the trees and began collecting up deadfall to feed the stove. The gathering of firewood was a morning routine that had quickly become my new version of normal. I wondered if part of me would always search the ground looking for likely branches, even after I returned to civilisation. My scavenger hunt led me in a wide looping circle towards the rear of the cabin and that was when I saw it, propped up against the back wall.
I was pretty certain I knew what it was, even though it was half buried in the snow. But before alerting Logan, and getting our hopes raised too early, I walked a little closer to the shadowy area behind the ramshackle lodge, where the thick overhanging branches of snow-laden trees let in very little light. I could see it was an oar before I took that final fateful step into the shadows. I was grinning in anticipation as I squinted into the darkness, trying to pierce through the gloom in search of what must surely belong with my discovery. Why would a person have an oar if they didn’t have a boat? After everything we’d gone through, was it really going to be that easy? Could someone actually have left a boat or canoe behind when they’d abandoned the cabin? I should have known better than that. Life is never that easy.
I heard it before I saw it. I’ve no idea why I was so slow processing the information, because it was all there, just waiting for each of my senses to finally put the pieces together. I saw the meandering footprints marking the snow behind the cabin; I smelled the rank and wet-furred animal odour in the enclosed area; I heard the deep throaty growl of warning. I tasted the bitter tang of fear in my mouth, as I momentarily forgot how to swallow.
I will always remember the way it emerged from the darkness, its gait wobbly and unsteady. It was tall, far taller than any wolf I had ever seen in captivity. Its back was easily the height of my hip. Soulless yellow-rimmed eyes stared menacingly at me, as the growl deepened. Strangely, the first emotion I felt was one of pity. The wolf looked thin, its rib-cage sharply outlined beneath the dank silver and black fur. It swayed a little, as though weak from hunger, and I felt an animal-lover’s compassion for a creature that was obviously in the throes of starvation. Stupidly, I didn’t realise how much more dangerous an emaciated and ravenous animal was than one that was comfortably fed.
The wolf raised its large and heavy head, which was the only thing that didn’t appear diminished by a season of inadequate food supply, and suddenly I realised I had broken just about every cardinal rule in the wilderness survival handbook. I was unarmed; I’d approached a dangerous and starving animal that was now cornered in an enclosed space. The wolf’s long blunt muzzle was raised, and I saw its nose twitch repeatedly. They say an animal can smell fear, and if that’s true, the wolf must have been going into sensory overload. I was frozen to the spot, my arms uselessly laden with firewood. For the first time in my entire adult life, my stupid steel-trap of a memory failed me. I could recall nothing that I’d ever read about what to do in such a situation. Was I meant to run, or hold my ground? Should I shout, or stay silent?
‘Keep very, very still.’ Logan’s voice was a low whisper as he rounded the corner of the cabin. He was behind me, but I didn’t dare turn around, afraid that the second I took my eyes from it, the wolf would surely pounce.
‘Don’t look directly into its eyes. It’ll see that as a challenge. Very slowly, I want you to start to back away, but don’t turn around. And don’t run . . . unless I say so. And if I do, don’t come back. Go straight into the cabin and prop something heavy against the door.’
My legs were trembling so much it was touch-and-go whether they’d be able to support me as I took my first tentative step backwards. The wolf growled, low and throatily, its lip curling menacingly, so that I got an excellent view of its row of yellow-tinged razor-sharp teeth. Another step backwards, out of the shadows. Logan had moved and was now standing level with me, but a metre or so away to my left. I could see what he was doing. He was giving the wolf two targets to try to follow, instead of one, hoping to distract it long enough for me to get away. But what about him? Once I rounded the corner and was out of sight, Logan would be alone with the ferocious and hungry animal, and at this point, I really didn’t think the wolf was particularly fussed about which one of us was on the menu that day.
In the end it all became a moot point, because I never managed to reach the corner after all. I stepped gingerly backwards and trod on a patch of ice concealed beneath the powdery snow. My foot slipped, and my arms instinctively flew out to save me. The armful of sticks dropped to the ground, landing on top of each other in a noisy clatter that seemed to last forever. It broke the invisible restraints that had been holding the wolf back. I saw him hunker down, his hind quarters twitching as he prepared to launch. Forgetting all of Logan’s good advice, I turned to run.
‘Here! Over here! Come on, you mangy piece of shit! This way!’ Logan was waving
his arms aggressively, his legs splayed in a confrontational stance. I saw the look on his face with horrible clarity as he stared directly into the eyes of the wolf. ‘Don’t go over there,’ he told the blood-thirsty, flesh-hungry animal. ‘Come this way.’
‘Logan, no!’ I cried, as the wolf diverted its attention from me.
‘Hannah, run, run now, and don’t look back,’ Logan ordered, taking one last dangerous step towards the snarling wolf.
Would I have left him there to make my fate his own? Not a chance. But I never got the opportunity to prove that, because as I turned I stood on one of the dropped sticks, which skidded beneath my foot and suddenly I wasn’t upright at all, I was falling to the ground.
Everything seemed to happen at once in that moment. I heard Logan shouting out my name and the wolf roared throatily, not from ground level, several metres away, but strangely from above me, as though it were flying. I looked up, and saw that it practically was. In a slow-motion deadly ballet the wolf had taken to the air, mouth open in readiness for the first deadly bite. All I could see was a grey and black mountain of fur descending on me. And then my vision changed, as instead of an animal, a man was falling onto me.
Logan landed heavily and painfully on my lower legs in the split second before the wolf reached me. I heard the snap of jaws, the tearing of fabric and voices screaming – mine and Logan’s. I scrabbled backwards, my feet spinning on the icy surface, unable to find traction. The wolf had hold of Logan’s calf in its mouth and was shaking it viciously as blood began to bloom like deadly red roses on the snow around us.
I looked around desperately for the spears that had never left our sides since that first night, but finding the cabin had made us sloppy. Four walls and a roof had made us forget that we were still a very long way from safety or civilisation. Neither of us was carrying a weapon. Logan was trying to kick the wolf off him with his free leg, but his efforts only seemed to make the beast more determined. The animal released his initial hold only long enough to sink his teeth even higher into Logan’s flesh. Logan was thrashing his body, trying to make it impossible for the wolf to hang on to him, but it wasn’t working.
