Chapter 16 #2
The eyes tilted and moved, this time emerging into the overhead light.
I exhaled, relieved when I realized it was Larry, the pine marten.
Gray mentioned he’d seen Larry around a lot in the last few days, especially in the shed. He seemed to think he was harmless, even friendly. I wiped a hand down my face, willing to trust Gray on this one. Running out of here naked was not a hill I wanted to die on.
“Hey there, Larry,” I said, a clear shake in my voice.
He rose onto his hind feet; the firelight sparkling over his clean, wiry coat. His fingers drummed together before him, so human-like, I wanted to croon. He was a reddish-brown color on his head and down his back, with a cream-colored belly.
I’d known a few pet ferrets in New York; lots of people kept them, and that’s what he looked like more than anything.
They were good apartment pets. But I had to admit, the pine marten was cuter.
Its face was more like that of a cat, and its coat was richer.
He had a long neck and a tail like a squirrel's.
Lowering himself onto all fours, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, only to return a moment later as though to check back in.
“I’m still here, Larry,” I called out.
His head tilted before he approached in fits and starts.
I went rigid again. I shouldn’t have said anything. Now he was coming closer.
In a brief blur, he fell below the lip of the tub, nearing the base where I could no longer see him.
Not good.
I moved to the center of the tub, just in case he popped out behind me. Not knowing where he was? I sat as still as humanly possible, trying not to disturb the water’s calm.
He popped up.
The whole tub jostled when I jumped, splashing back and contemplating my next move. I reached for a shampoo bottle, brandishing it like a weapon—just in case.
His front paws were resting on the edge, and that’s when I saw he was holding something in his mouth.
“Larry…” I warned. My eyes strained to make sense of the lump between his teeth, the dim light offering little clue.
He dropped it.
With a plunk and a splash, my eyes went wide. Whatever it was thrashed for dear life once it hit the water. It was alive. Kicking and scrambling backward, I fought for purchase so I could get the hell out of the bath.
The thing squealed in a high-pitched, “I’m going to die!” way, paddling in my direction with beady little eyes peeking out from wet, gray fur and paws slapping the water for dear life.
Finding a foothold, I leapt up and immediately tumbled out of the tub. My ass smacked against the freezing concrete with a wet slap, and I felt like a newborn baby rocketing out of a, well... you get the idea.
I clawed at the cement, scrambling back up with surprising speed.
My knees scraped on the grit, leaving scratches, but the feeling of pain was an afterthought.
Glancing behind me at the water, I let out another guttural scream when I made sense of what the creature was.
It was a rat, lapping the pool like Michael Phelps and gulping air like an Olympic sport.
Perched half up the side of the tub, Larry watched with amusement as the rat cut through the bubbles. He reached out periodically, thwacking at the rat’s tail and sending it bobbing under the water. Every time the rat surfaced, Larry punched it back down like a game of whack-a-mole.
The shed door burst open, and outdoor light poured in, silhouetting Gray in the doorway.
My screams hit a crescendo, and I lunged for the towel atop the wooden bench, my bare feet slapping the cold, wet cement.
I snatched up the thick towel, fumbling to unfold it so I could cover myself.
My wet skin and taught nipples fought the fabric once the towel was open, but eventually I covered myself enough that I could reach for the robe and repeat the entire godforsaken process.
Finally, I got my body covered.
Turning back to the scene, Gray was at the tub, pointedly averting his gaze from my direction—which was appreciated.
He had a shovel in hand, looking prepared to scoop the rat out of the water.
Before Gray could reach for the rat, however, Larry grabbed it by the tail and took off out the open shed door.
“Fuck!” Gray swore before going after them, shovel raised.
“Leave Larry alone!” I yelled, swallowing down air to catch my breath, water dripping from my hair and nose.
I jammed my feet into shoes, and the rough grit stuck to them, making my boots feel like they were lined with sandpaper. Ignoring the further discomfort, I clutched my robe close and sprinted after them. I burst outside just as Gray swung the shovel down at the dirt like an axe.
“Stop!” I yelled, skidding in the mud, nearly falling on my ass again. I fumbled for the robe’s ties, having barely avoided a nip slip, and secured them in a knot this time.
Larry escaped Gray, leaping across the big rocks in the river with surprising grace. He halted on a boulder in the middle of the rapids, too far for Gray to reach.
I hobbled over to stand beside Gray, getting there just in time to witness Larry biting the tail off the now lifeless rat. He sucked it up like a noodle and chewed, mouth open. It looked crunchy, and I fought back a gag.
Gray was panting hard, hands on his knees.
Between his breaths and my dry heaves, we clouded the air with steam.
A long while of recovery passed before he glanced at me, taking in my fluffy, oversized gray robe and hiking boots, the laces dragging through the ice and mud.
Without a word, he reached out and wiped something off my cheek.
“Hey!” I snapped, batting his hand away.
He started laughing, flicking mud off his fingers.
As hard as I tried to maintain my anger, I couldn’t keep myself from devolving into laughter alongside him as I wiped my face again, finding more mud.
Finally, when the laughter died, he asked, “Are you okay?” He stood and grasped my shoulders gently, assessing me from head to toe. “You might need another bath,” he stated, as if I didn’t already know that.
I wiped joyful tears from my face. I forgot to be angry for a moment and schooled my features.
He noticed and frowned, realizing he’d lost me again.
“I’ll be fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll just brush it off with a towel.”
“Your hair looks clean, at least,” he offered with a shrug.
Rolling my eyes, I fought back another giggle. Laughing felt good, but I couldn’t give in. “Don’t disarm me, sir,” I warned, finger waggling.
He laughed despite my attempt to sound serious.
“I’m serious!” I huffed, turning away and stomping towards the shed.
The sound of his laughter followed me up the hill.
I marched through the door, eyeing the bathwater and snatching up my dirty clothes from the floor. I was mad at myself now, too. I never should have let myself have that moment with him.
I hoisted one leg onto the stool, brushing off the dirt with the dirty clothes, then repeated the action with the other leg. Last, I brushed off my sandy ass—just as he walked in.
I yanked the edge of the robe back down. “Some privacy?” I bit out.
He slowed, brow raised.
“Go away!” I barked.
He turned his back, arms in the air as though to placate me. Though I could no longer see his face, I knew he had that stupid grin tattooed on his lips.
I grumbled. “The water needs changing, and the tub sanitized, pool boy. I’m not bathing in rat soup.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll work on making sure Larry isn’t in here next time,” he told the far wall.
I snorted.
He chanced a look over his shoulder before turning to face me once the coast was clear.
I gestured around the room. “In this mess? There are a hundred different places Larry could hide in here, along with the rats.” I paused, weighing my next words. This was the perfect time to begin my plan of escape. “Look,” I softened my approach as best I could. “I appreciate the bath.”
“And the bath time entertainment?” he teased.
I glowered before continuing. “What if I organize this space too? Like I did with the greenhouse? Consider it a ‘thank you’.” I wanted to puke saying those words before I added, “This way I’ll get the space I want, and this whole swimming incident won’t happen again. Deal?”
He nodded slowly, assessing the space. Hands on his hips, a visible look of concession reached his face. “Okay… I guess that would be a fair trade. I’ll take it.”
“Good,” I agreed, nodding once. “But I’m doing this more for me than for you. Don’t get mixed up in any sort of meaning. I still hate you.”
He said nothing, but there was a smirk.
“No more of this rat business, and that includes you—Pack Rat,” I concluded.
He gave me a contemptuous glare. “Just don’t throw anything out, okay? Junk is useful more often than not.”
I let out a mirthless laugh and looked to the ceiling for guidance. “Well, it’s not like I can just haul the trash can out to the curb now, can I?”
He shook his head in exasperation and walked out of the shed. Maybe I’d finally run him off.
“It’s okay to let go of things!” I yelled after him.
I heard a far-off chuff in reply.
Content with how that ended, I finished unpacking the soap from the plastic bag and set it up on the bench in a neat row, hopefully elevated from any snooping critters. Once satisfied, I tossed the dirty clothes in the bag and made my way back to the cabin.
On the way back, I took my time. The day was fading, and the forest had shifted into a bluish hue. When I walked through the cabin door, it surprised me to see a chilled glass of white wine on the kitchen counter.
It almost emanated a godly light, perched there, looking all frosty and delicious. I glanced around and found Gray in an armchair near the window, casually reading a book. I could only see his side profile, but it was a good angle of him.
“Is this for me?” I asked.
He looked over and nodded, then quickly returned his gaze to the book.