“Help me! Please, can somebody help me?”
My eyes snapped open, and I sat bolt upright on the makeshift cot. Thick furs slid off the cot at the sudden movement, knocking over empty bottles that surrounded the cot. The clatter set my teeth on edge, and my head pounding. My sluggish thoughts turned to the cry for help I’d just heard. It must have been part of a dream. It had been muffled… distorted. Satisfied with my analysis, I consigned it to the darker recesses of my mind.
I glanced about the small log cabin and its barebone interior, only catering the essentials. The fire in the hearth had died down to embers, allowing for the winter chill to seep in. I shivered despite the faded yet still lingering warmth. I cast my gaze to the sole window. Snow fell steadily atop the stark white landscape populated by clumps of spruce huddled together as if to ward off the bitter cold.
I sighed. Another sunrise missed… I’d have to wait till late afternoon if I was going to have any chance at a successful hunt.
I groaned and rolled out of the cot. Hopefully, the throbbing behind my eyes would subside before then. I leaned over and picked up a bottle.
“Maybe hold back on the liquor next time,” I berated myself for the umpteenth time.
That’s what she used to say…
A sudden bout of rage bloomed within me, and I hurled the bottle at a wall. It shattered, slinging shards of glass everywhere. A painful undiminished sadness swept through me, washing away the rage and I crumpled into a small ball and wept uncontrollably.
Why did she abandon me?
I took deep gulps of air while reigning my emotions back in and sealing them behind locked doors once more. After pulling myself back together, I cleaned up the shards as best I could and got ready for the day.
The hours slogged by as I awaited the time to hunt. I spent most of it staring into the fire’s flickering flames, reliving memories captured from my past life. A past life with her. In between those moments of reflection, I maintained my hunting equipment and drank. Liquor was the only thing that worked at keeping my inner demons at bay. It also helped subdue the headache and soothed my nerves.
When the sun began to dip, calling forth the waiting dark, I left the cabin’s warmth and headed out into the frozen landscape with hunting gear in tow. The snowfall refused to abate as I waded through knee-high snow between the rows of evergreen spruce. I took a hearty swig from my hip flask to stave off the chill as I paused, inspecting some fresh tracks.
Dry lips peeled into a smile. I might actually get lucky this time. The deer had eluded me several times so far.
I followed the tracks for an hour before the deer came into view.
At last.
I crept closer to the herd until I was within bowshot. The snowfall had intensified, threatening to turn for the worst. I need to be quick if I was to get back before the snowstorm that was sure to come.
I knocked an arrow and drew it, taking aim.
“Help me!”
Startled by the sudden cry, my arrow flew wide and the deer fled.
“By the Ten,” I cursed under my breath as the deer vanished beyond a hillock. “It’s like the world is out to get me today!”
The cry came again, a shrill earnestness to it. “Please, can somebody help me?”
I looked toward the cry, and then back towards where the cabin lay.
Not my problem.
I took a couple of steps and halted.
What would she say if you abandoned this person, too?
I looked at the ominous clouds growing darker by the second.
Not my problem.
Coward!
“SHUT UP!” I said.
Coward!
“Argh! Fine! Have it your way!”
Of all the times to have a conscience, I choose now. I swung toward the cry and headed off as fast as I could.
As I drew closer with each strained step and each growing cry, it occurred to me that the words never changed. It was the same two phrases repeated over and over. Unease seeped through the cracks of my resolve. What if this was some sort of trap? There were tales of dark creatures luring men to their deaths.
It's just the drink speaking. You’re not one for superstitions.
But still… What if they were true?
The thought hung in my mind, unanswered, waiting to be proven wrong. Needing to be proven wrong. I so desperately wanted it to be so.
And then she was there, standing before me with arms outstretched, beckoning me. A dazzling white dress sparkling like flecks of ice on a bright winter’s day flowed down her slim physique. Her raven hair, streaked with hoar frost, framed a perfect face the colour of freshly powdered snow. Her face was cold and regal, but held a terrifying beauty to it. But her dark, malevolent eyes burned with the fury of a blizzard and a deep, unsatiated pain.
I could not look away. There was no escaping the spell that had been cast.
She beckoned, and I came, meeting her in an embrace. Her arms curled around me and a sudden unimaginable cold stole through me, freezing my blood and leeching away my life force. My fingers and toes deadened as frostbite took hold. A deep, pervasive tiredness took root within me. As my vision dimmed and my heart slowed, the memory of her death surfaced.
I’m sorry I abandoned you, I thought as a single tear escaped before freezing on my blackened cheek and then darkness took me.