Chapter One
“I thought I’d call before I lose service,” I shouted at my dash.
“You don’t have to yell. I can hear you just fine, Shea,” my aunt, Asteria, said patiently.
It had been two days since my riverside spell. I knew, like all things in life, certain issues needed to be handled practically as well as magically, so I did what any mature adult would do and ran away from my problems. Maybe it was my nonstop dreams of fireplaces after the spell or just the desire to be alone, but my intuition told me to get to the cabin.
I gripped the steering wheel in my faded red Isuzu Trooper as the wheels beat the dirt road. I had one of those knit steering wheel covers on it, adding a cozy touch to my outdated ride that smelled like decades of cinnamon car freshener. “Sorry, I’m not used to driving and talking on the phone. You know how I hate doing that, but I wanted to call you before it was too late.”
I eyed the forested path. There wasn’t snow, but with it being early December, New England had successfully launched into stick season. Gray branches forked into the clouded sky accompanied by hearty pine trees whose evergreen presence softened the harshness of winter. According to the forecast, within three days the first snowfall was set to dump up to a foot.
“Don’t be nervous. It will go by quicker than you think. Plus, you’ll get tons of reading done. It will be a great way to spend your winter break.”
“It’s a long time to be alone, I know. My finals wrapped up early and I just really want to be up here on the 21 st for the solstice.” I chewed at my bottom lip, tasting my vanilla-mint gloss unintentionally. “Maybe this is absurd.”
“It’s not, and when you come here for Christmas and New Year’s, you’ll be happy you had some alone time first.” Her tone was soothing, motherly. “How often do you leave your apartment except for class and the library, hmm? It’ll be just like that but without DoorDash.”
Aunt Asteria had always been more of a mother than my actual mom, who’d run away to Spain with her much younger boyfriend the second she’d divorced my dad before I’d even been out of high school. Now, I was twenty-four years old and slogging through graduate school.
Luckily, my dad paid for my college out of guilt for starting a new life with an uptight dental hygienist in Phoenix, Arizona. The only thing I’d gotten from dear ol’ Dad was my light blonde hair and the freckles sweeping over my nose. My brown eyes were all from my mom. They looked muddy next to my light hair, but she insisted they were my best feature.
Unlike either of my parents, I was fat. Curvy. Voluptuous. Full-figured. Whatever you wanted to call it, I had some meat on my bones and a couple X’s in my clothing size. My mom, who was naturally slender and chronically preoccupied with looking and acting younger than she really was, never understood how I lived my life. She dreamed about winning the lottery, and I dreamed about The Shire. There was nothing wrong with liking high heels and fancy dinners, but I was a gentler soul who just felt icky in places like high-end boutiques and restaurants where they didn’t even list the prices of entrées. I couldn’t suffer pretentious shit like that. Luckily, my aunt, Asteria, shared my sentiments and taught me all about gardening, cooking, astrology, and witchcraft when I visited her each summer.
“It’s three weeks in a cabin, in the North Maine Woods, for most of December. I mean, the forest is so dense you can see it from space. I know I’m bananas to want to do this, but I just need some peace and quiet. My roommate is driving me nuts. She has that new boyfriend who comes over every night, and they watch Hentai really loud.”
“Ooh, is that a new Korean drama on Netflix?” Asteria asked conspiratorially.
I stifled a laugh. “No, it’s anime porn. Huge tits bouncing while cartoon jizz flies around.”
“Oh my,” she breathed. I swore I could see her face scrunching in my mind. She was probably tucking some of her curly, tawny hair behind her ear and adjusting her circular glasses on her nose.
“I’m not trying to shame them. It’s just bad enough to hear someone else having sex, let alone the cringey, cartoonish moaning booming on surround sound—”
“I get it, sweetie. You want to get away.”
“Exactly.”
“I would too after everything that happened last semester.”
I stomped on the gas pedal and gripped the steering wheel.
“And you’ve been to the cabin before. You have a plan for firewood, and your Isuzu is great in the snow. You’re prepared.”
She was right. Her husband’s family owned the cabin. They were really into snowmobiling and used it in the winter for vacations. No one was staying in it until late January, so I had free rein. It didn’t have Wi-Fi or reliable cell service, so I promised Asteria I’d drive to the closest town called Gasquet every couple of days to check in, even though it was about forty minutes away.
“You just enjoy yourself,” she said. “You deserve some rest. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet a cute guy in town.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt there will be anyone my age within a thousand miles, but I like your enthusiasm. Plus, I think I’m kinda over men for the moment.”
“Okay, no mistletoe kisses for you this year. I got it. I won’t bring up boys for a while.”
I could always count on her understanding me.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m just in a funk. Don’t mind me. Anyways, I’ll let you go.”
We said our goodbyes, and I continued forging ahead on the path, cranking up my Celtic Christmas music. It had been a couple of years since I’d been to the cabin, but I knew the drill when it came to being this remote. Even without the snow, the rules were all the same: Make sure you have something to start a fire, enough water, and dry firewood. If you go out, make sure to dry your boots and socks thoroughly. Wet feet are death. And above all, know that no one is coming to save you. You have to save yourself, and in order to do that, you must think ahead and be industrious.
The road leading in was surrounded by trees until it opened to the small property about a mile deep from the main road. The cabin was one level, with a front porch that had a built-in storage box for firewood near the front door.
As I entered, relief washed over me. The place was just how I remembered it—small, cozy, and almost entirely wood, with beams filling the pitched ceilings. To the right of the door was a rock fireplace and a love seat that served as a couch.
Beyond the impromptu living room was a log bed wedged in the corner to maximize space. The other side of the cabin was filled with a closet, teensy bathroom, and a kitchenette with the smallest oven I’d ever seen in my life. Closer to the other side of the front entry was a table fit for two, that I’d have to move for my Yule tree, and the comfiest oversized reading chair known to mankind. My butt would be parked in it for the majority of my stay. There was even a window next to it that let in lots of great natural light.
My aunt had run with the typical buffalo plaid pattern in black and red for all the drapes and bedding, but I didn’t mind. I thought it was kinda cute. While remote, the cabin still had some amenities, like solar power, propane, two sinks with water pumps, and a compostable toilet. I was on the last couple days of my period, so I had made sure to bring a menstrual cup so I wouldn’t have to dispose of pads or tampons. Sometimes having a uterus was a pain in the ass. Whatever I packed in, I had to pack out, garbage included, so I’d been quite picky.
Along with heaps of books, my leather journal, and winter clothing, I’d brought my beloved sourdough starter and some herbs, along with beeswax candles I’d made over the summer. They even had pressed flowers on the outer layer. I was super proud of them.
The cabin had been unused since September, when my aunt and uncle had stayed for leaf peeping, so I decided to open all the windows and throw on a simmer pot to make it less stuffy. Sprinkling cinnamon sticks, cloves, and sliced oranges, I paused to muse on what was missing.
“We need green,” I said, drumming my citrusy fingers on my lips as I stared out the window. “Ah, pine!”
Running with my idea, I put my boots back on and moseyed into the woods with my small axe. Searching the forest floor, I was able to locate several fallen boughs.
“Even better! I don’t even need to hack anything off.”
My uncle had taught me to take as little from the forest as possible, especially in the winter. That was another unspoken rule about existing up here as a human: you had to acknowledge we were damn near parasitic to the earth. The least we could do was tread lightly and take little.
Plucking up the fallen boughs, I brought them closer to my face for a whiff, loving the aromatics.
A snap to my right made me jump. “Hello?”
I held my breath, clutching the pine branches so tight the needles bit into my sweater, pricking my skin.
A winter hare dashed in front of me, swooshing dusty dirt in its wake.
A relieved gasp escaped my lungs. “Jesus Christ, you’ve got to not be so jumpy if you’re going to be out here all alone, girl.”
I lowered my find and shook out my sweater, smoothing the fabric. From there, I brought the last ingredient into the cottage, smooshing it in the simmer pot, making my little cabin smell like Yuletide cheer in no time.
I started the fire, then swept and dusted. Knowing I had physically cleansed the space, I set to protecting it. I poured out a line of black salt on the threshold by the front door and wiped down the door itself in blessed moon water. On the frame and underneath the front mat, I traced sigils of protection with my blackthorn oil for good measure. My final step was twisting a nail in the outer frame of the door and bending it upwards, setting intentions that if someone were to harm me, the nail would snag their clothing or hurt them when they tried to enter, alerting me or injuring them. I wasn’t above giving a burglar tetanus, dammit.
After that, I spent the sunset outside with a cup of chamomile tea. I couldn’t help but get the feeling I was being watched. I adjusted my seat on the Adirondack chair. Looking around, I tried to spot a deer or moose, anything that might explain the sense of being observed.
“You just have to get used to feeling this way,” I whispered into the steam of my tea.
I chose to be alone; I couldn’t get scared now. The sun setting a little past 4 o’clock in the afternoon certainly wasn’t helping matters.
Already a little bored, I made myself soup with crackers for dinner, then with a full belly, I crawled into bed, feeling done for the day.
Done with everything, really.