ground.
The light from inside the cabin spilled out onto the yard. Skyla scanned for any sign of Orrin, a feather or—even though she dared not think of it—a blood trail. She called his name and listened through the rustling trees as rain began spitting through the branches, hitting her face in cold droplets. There was a rustling above her in the pine needles.
“Orrin?”
There was a squawk above her. She could barely make out his black outline in the fading light, but he appeared to be all in one piece. He hopped down a couple branches and looked at her, but did not approach any further.
“Orrin, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I had no idea he would react that way.”
Squawk.
“Please come down. We can eat and spend the night here. I think he might let us in.”
Another squawk, but Orrin came no further. He climbed the tree again, stopping a few branches up. She could barely see him anymore.
“Eat,” he croaked. “Food.” She thought she heard disdain in his voice.
Skyla glanced from Orrin to the cabin, and then back again.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”
“Eat,” his voice was even further up the branches and it was hard to hear him in the strengthening wind.
“I’ll try to bring you something,” she said over the rustling noise and howling wind.
There was no reply but the sound of leaves. She turned toward the cabin.
She was greeted by an awkward silence at the door as the big man opened it and considered her for a moment.
“Did I get him?”
“No,” she said, scowling. “But he’s scared. He won’t come down.”
The man looked up into the trees. “Well, I imagine he’ll survive. I can never get rid of those things in the summer. Always tearing up my roof and getting into food storage.”
“He only showed up because he heard us calling his name,” she said. “Otherwise he is very well trained—” She stopped herself short and the man gave her a curious look.
“I suppose you need a place to stay,” he said.
Her face brightened. “Is that okay?”
“You can sleep on the couch. I was about to eat. You can have some too.” He opened the door the rest of the way and stood aside as she entered. “There is a washroom in the back, through the door. You can clean your face.”
“Thank you so much!” She looked up at him, stumbling over her words. “I promise I’ll stay out of your way. You won’t get anymore trouble from me or from Orrin—”
“It’s fine,” he said, his expression softening. “What’s your name?”
“Skyla,” she said. The warmth of the cabin hit her with a luxurious embrace. “Yours?”
“I’m James,” he said, closing the door. “Go clean up. I hope you like stew because that’s what you’re having.”
Skyla had almost forgotten how amazing it was to have access to a washroom. A copper bathtub sat at one end of the small room. She glanced at the mirror and gasped at the grimy creature staring back.
This is what greeted him in the woods. It’s amazing he didn’t try to shoot me and mount my head on a wall .
As the water ran, the sink quickly filled with dirt, bits of leaves and twigs, not to mention other things she didn’t wish to identify. She even had to scoop some of the elements out of the basin for fear of clogging the drain.
When she finally toweled off her face she was amazed that she could finally recognize her own reflection. Hazel eyes stared back at her from beneath a mop of damp—but clean—brown curly hair. Freckles peppered her cheeks and ran over the bridge of her nose.
As she opened the door, the smell of food overwhelmed her. James had already served himself and was seated, hunched over a bowl, slurping. It was the sort of table manners she had expected from a hermit.
“Dump your things over there on the couch,” he said between gulps. “You can stay here tonight.” There was something very final about the way he said tonight.
She discarded her items on the couch and covered them with
The light from inside the cabin spilled out onto the yard. Skyla scanned for any sign of Orrin, a feather or—even though she dared not think of it—a blood trail. She called his name and listened through the rustling trees as rain began spitting through the branches, hitting her face in cold droplets. There was a rustling above her in the pine needles.
“Orrin?”
There was a squawk above her. She could barely make out his black outline in the fading light, but he appeared to be all in one piece. He hopped down a couple branches and looked at her, but did not approach any further.
“Orrin, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I had no idea he would react that way.”
Squawk.
“Please come down. We can eat and spend the night here. I think he might let us in.”
Another squawk, but Orrin came no further. He climbed the tree again, stopping a few branches up. She could barely see him anymore.
“Eat,” he croaked. “Food.” She thought she heard disdain in his voice.
Skyla glanced from Orrin to the cabin, and then back again.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”
“Eat,” his voice was even further up the branches and it was hard to hear him in the strengthening wind.
“I’ll try to bring you something,” she said over the rustling noise and howling wind.
There was no reply but the sound of leaves. She turned toward the cabin.
She was greeted by an awkward silence at the door as the big man opened it and considered her for a moment.
“Did I get him?”
“No,” she said, scowling. “But he’s scared. He won’t come down.”
The man looked up into the trees. “Well, I imagine he’ll survive. I can never get rid of those things in the summer. Always tearing up my roof and getting into food storage.”
“He only showed up because he heard us calling his name,” she said. “Otherwise he is very well trained—” She stopped herself short and the man gave her a curious look.
“I suppose you need a place to stay,” he said.
Her face brightened. “Is that okay?”
“You can sleep on the couch. I was about to eat. You can have some too.” He opened the door the rest of the way and stood aside as she entered. “There is a washroom in the back, through the door. You can clean your face.”
“Thank you so much!” She looked up at him, stumbling over her words. “I promise I’ll stay out of your way. You won’t get anymore trouble from me or from Orrin—”
“It’s fine,” he said, his expression softening. “What’s your name?”
“Skyla,” she said. The warmth of the cabin hit her with a luxurious embrace. “Yours?”
“I’m James,” he said, closing the door. “Go clean up. I hope you like stew because that’s what you’re having.”
Skyla had almost forgotten how amazing it was to have access to a washroom. A copper bathtub sat at one end of the small room. She glanced at the mirror and gasped at the grimy creature staring back.
This is what greeted him in the woods. It’s amazing he didn’t try to shoot me and mount my head on a wall .
As the water ran, the sink quickly filled with dirt, bits of leaves and twigs, not to mention other things she didn’t wish to identify. She even had to scoop some of the elements out of the basin for fear of clogging the drain.
When she finally toweled off her face she was amazed that she could finally recognize her own reflection. Hazel eyes stared back at her from beneath a mop of damp—but clean—brown curly hair. Freckles peppered her cheeks and ran over the bridge of her nose.
As she opened the door, the smell of food overwhelmed her. James had already served himself and was seated, hunched over a bowl, slurping. It was the sort of table manners she had expected from a hermit.
“Dump your things over there on the couch,” he said between gulps. “You can stay here tonight.” There was something very final about the way he said tonight.
She discarded her items on the couch and covered them with
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