Chapter 7 #2
We work in tandem, a strange, efficient silence settling between us. I hold the tarp while she tapes it over the precariously vibrating table. This wind is a bitch, I've never felt anything like it.
Penny is excellent, meticulously sealing every gap, every crack where cold air can seep into our cabin.
Our cabin. That sounds… nice.
Her fingers are raw and red with cold, but she doesn’t complain.
When we’re done, the cabin still feels like a freezer, but the immediate threat of hypothermia has receded. The incessant, brutal wind is now a dull roar beyond the makeshift blockage covering the giant hole in my cabin.
We slump against the table, exhausted, our breaths fogging in the air.
“Now what?” she asks, her voice a little weaker now that the immediate danger is over.
“Now,” I say, pushing myself up, “we need a fire. A big one.” My gaze falls on my dwindling woodpile. “And more wood.”
She shivers, wrapping her arms around herself. “But it’s… still a blizzard out there.”
“I know,” I say grimly. “But we need to keep warm. I’ll be quick.”
“No,” she says, surprising me. She uncurls herself, stumbling to her bare feet. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not,” I snap, instantly regretting the harshness. “It’s too dangerous. You’re… you’re not dressed.”
Her gaze falls to her bare body, then back to my eyes, a resolute fire blazing in their depths.
“I’m not staying in here alone while you go out into that. What if… what if something happens? We’re in this together, Edward. You made that clear when you let me in and then decided to let me into your life.”
She’s right. And her conviction, her sheer courage, is undeniable.
But the thought of her out there in this storm, exposed and completely vulnerable to the harshness of my world…
“Fine,” I concede, grabbing a heavier jacket and tossing it to her. “But you stay right behind me. Don’t wander. Don’t talk. Just follow my lead. And put these on.”
I pull out an extra pair of thermal pants and socks from a gear bag, tossing them at her.
She nods, pulling on the clothes with chattering teeth. The heavy jacket swamps her, but provides some much-needed warmth.
We grab the two small but sturdy axes from the woodpile in the corner. I unbolt the heavy door, bracing myself, and pull it open a crack.
The world outside is a blinding, swirling white. The wind immediately tries to rip the door from my grasp, but I hold firm.
“Stay close,” I warn, my voice low and tense.
We step out, the door slamming shut behind us. The cold instantly steals my breath. But I push through it, the memory of her vulnerability, her plea for me, serving as a shield against the creeping despair.
The woodpile is a short distance from the cabin, partially covered by an overhang, but the snow is already hip-deep in places, making every step a struggle.
I break trail and push through, my body burning with effort. I hear Penny struggling behind me, her small gasps lost in the wind.
I glance back.
She’s trudging through the snow, her eyes narrowed against the biting flakes, but she’s keeping up, her chin still jutted out in defiance.
We reach the woodpile and I grab an axe and start hacking at a larger log. Penny doesn’t stand there looking pretty. She picks up a smaller axe too, and starts clearing away the snow from some of the smaller, pre-cut logs.
I can't help but give her a smile and appreciative nod.
"What are you looking at?" she screams out over the wind.
I shake my head and manage a laugh. "Nothing. It's just for the first time in years… I'm glad I'm not alone."
She pauses for a second, then smiles at me and starts to gather the logs in her arms again.
My body aches, but a powerful sense of purpose courses through me.
This isn’t just about survival. This is about her. Her warmth, her life, her fragile, infuriating optimism.
I would do anything to keep her here.
After what feels like an eternity, we have a respectable pile of fresh logs. My arms are numb with cold and exertion, but I force myself to keep going. We need enough to last until the storm breaks and who knows how long that will be.
“Alright,” I finally gasp, dropping my axe. “That’s enough. Let’s get back in.”
We carry the logs back, each step a further test of endurance.
My lungs burn, my muscles scream in protest, but the thought of returning to that cold, dark cabin, with her huddled there in my arms, right where she fucking belongs, gives me the strength to push on.
When we finally stumble back inside, dragging the last of the logs, the cabin feels even colder than before.
Our brief venture outside has chilled us to the bone.
I set about building a new fire, a monster of a fire by the way.
Penny is still shivering violently, but hopefully now the warm flames give us hope against the encroaching cold.
Agonizingly slowly, the cabin begins to warm.
We huddle near the fire, wrapped in blankets, steaming mugs of hot tea clutched in our numb hands.
The silence is different again now. Not awkward, but a shared peace born of mutual survival.
We’ve faced death together and we fought through the despair.
That's more than I can say about myself before this beautiful woman came to be here.