In fairytales, the woods are dark and deep and full of dangers. But they can also be a sanctuary. When life has chewed you up and spit you out; when civilization has so badly torn and shredded you that you can’t survive another hit; when all routes to your future have been cut off except those that lead into the lion’s maw…then a person might find the dark dangers of the woods a comforting exile in comparison.
The shirt on Arthur’s back stuck to his shoulder blades with sweat as he stacked fresh firewood into the covered log rack. His breath hung around his face on every exhale, but splitting wood was heavy work, and he’d stripped his coat off only a few minutes in.
That’s the last of it, John said. Hold on a moment, let me look. Arthur stood still for him while he assessed their supply. Yes. I think that should be enough to keep us warm for the winter.
“We can still collect more.” Sweat threatened to trickle into their eyes. Arthur swiped them away with the back of his dirty hand. “When we spot some downed, we can drag it back. Keep a pile, just in case.”
John humphed his agreement.
The two of them worked together to collect an armful of wood to take in for the evening. Arms loaded, John kicked open the kitchen door of their little cottage and then Arthur shouldered it wide enough for them to pass through. Silently, they built up the fire together and then held their hands out to it to bring warmth back into icy, aching fingers.
I heard that thing sniffing around outside again last night, John said darkly after a bit.
“Are you sure it’s not a bear?”
You ask me this every time, but you know better. It’s no bear. Just…keep the blinds pulled at night, all right? So it can’t see in. It’ll be fine as long as it doesn’t see us.
Arthur sighed and pushed them to their feet to head back out through the kitchen for their coat. He did know better. He’d felt the cold dread that accompanied the thing. He knew somehow what it would look like if he were to ever behold it, a twisted nightmare of something that might have started as a bear.
He could feel his mind creaking like an overloaded shelf just thinking about it, and sighed again as John steered them to the coat.
“I miss hot running water, John. I miss people. It’s so lonely out here.”
I know, Arthur. John scooped their coat up and passed it to Arthur to hold while he brushed the leaves off. He didn’t remind Arthur that they were out here because Arthur’s mind was so full of broken glass he couldn’t be near people without hurting either them or himself. It…hadn’t gone well, when they’d tried.
“I’m so tired, John. I still feel worn thin, most days.”
Most days is better than every day, John said gently. He pulled their coat back up Arthur’s arm, and then Arthur let help him with his side. Be patient with yourself, Arthur. We’ll get there.