The Italian
Chapter 1
Canada was incredibly colorful. Not as colorful as Italy, but nothing could ever compare to home for Domenico Moretti. It was late summer, and the bushes were full of berries ripe for the picking. Dom picked some, nibbling on a handful as he walked through the woods with caution. Bow and arrow in his hand, it was quite obvious what he was there to do. If the opportunity presented itself, he would go hunting. His dog, Gelato, sniffed around trees, making almost no noise—surprising for a dog his size. He was a hunting dog and was pretty good at catching rabbits. Together, they were a good pair.
Dom liked hunting. It was a good way to quiet the noise inside his head. He wasn’t one to talk. Words could get you in trouble, but he couldn’t stop the replay of thoughts in his head, making him question every decision he ever made. His family was gone… somewhere, and he could only hope they were alive. Either way, their present was on his hands. Whether it be blood or sadness, he missed the loudness of family, and in the woods, he felt especially alone. Loneliness had already crept in. Without Gelato, he would have gone crazy.
Sometimes it was frustrating having a dog as big as Gelato. He was a brown Tibetan Mastiff. By default, he didn’t do well with smaller spaces, but the cabin was big enough for the two of them. It was simple in décor and accessories, which meant there weren’t too many things for Gelato to accidently run into or break. Overall, he looked a lot like a lion and was just as protective as one, which Dom appreciated. He didn’t have many people to consider loyal anymore. He’d take it in any form he could get, even if it was canine.
Gelato stopped in his tracks, sniffing the ground and whining.
“What is it, boy?”
Gelato stomped his feet, trotting towards something, prompting Dom to follow him. They had a good relationship, and Dom trusted Gelato as much as he trusted his own instincts. If Gelato was acting funny, Dom wanted to know why. The answer didn’t take long to become clear.
“What the hell is that?”
He was asking himself because the answer was clear.
There was an unconscious woman with a head wound lying on the ground in between the leaves. Her hair was splayed out around her like a halo, and despite the indication that she was unconscious, she looked like she could have been taking a nap. Her cheeks were flushed a healthy pink, and her long eyelashes fanned against her skin. Dom kneeled to her side, checking her pulse, and sighed with relief when he felt it. She wasn’t dead. He touched her head, checking the wound, and concluded she had been unconscious for some time. Long enough for the blood to dry on her head and scalp. She looked young. She had to be around her early twenties, maybe older, she didn’t look like she was from around here.
He stood, walking around her body, surveying her disposition, and figured she was okay to transfer. Not far from her feet, he noticed a camera. It was too fancy to be left outside and too close to her body to be considered a coincidence. So he assumed she was a photographer or had been in the woods to take pictures. He grabbed it, looping the strap around his neck, sliding it to his back so it wouldn’t hurt the woman he held in his arms.
Dom walked back home with her in his arms, passing through familiar trees and paths only he knew, while contemplating whether he should call someone to help her. The police were out of the question—he was intentionally off the grid—but perhaps he could call someone else. He just wasn’t sure who. The mountain path grew wide where the soil was soft and then narrow in rocky passes. To a stranger, it appeared impassable, but he knew better. Right when it seemed the trees would close off, there was the entrance to his cabin. He walked through, turning sideways so he wouldn’t hit her head on anything, and continued to the place he called home.
It was an old, dingy cabin with barely any space and outdated wooden furniture. In another life, he wouldn’t have been living here, but this was his life now. His two-room log cabin might have seemed small to others, but he was taking the minimalist approach. He didn’t need much. He had his life. If he had his family, he wouldn't need anything else in this world. Gelato was a bonus. One room was his, and the other was Gelato’s room. A dog that big needed his own space, and to be frank, Dom wasn’t the kind of man to let his dog sleep in his bed. From the outside, the cabin looked worn. It should have: it had been standing almost one hundred years, but inside it was right as rain. Safe, secure, sturdy, and the perfect safe house for two.
Three now.
He slid her body onto the couch, careful that she was comfortable, before grabbing his satellite phone, unsure if it would work.
He turned it on, and no satellite was found, which made his decision clear. He wouldn’t be calling anybody. He couldn’t. He would be taking care of the beautiful blonde himself.