My stomach roars at me, pulling me from my deep sleep with a craving for strawberry crepes. I lick my lips, remembering how my mother used to make them, with fresh berries and topped with a cloud of whipped cream. Not that shit you buy in the can either, no, hers was handmade and infused with vanilla bean.

I open my eyes and smile at the wild wisps of hair strewn over me. It still has the faint smell of strawberries. No wonder my stomach is confused. I haven’t had a breakfast like that since they were killed. All of them. My mother, my father and my older brother. A week later, I put them in the ground and left the city. I never looked back.

The only time I’ve forced myself to come back in has been for these supply runs. I’ve never second guessed the decision to walk away. I didn’t realize how much stress I carried with me everyday until I abandoned it at the edge of the forest. Not just the stress caused by the rumors about my family, by the fake fucking news. Or the stress of losing them all to a misguided and mentally ill vigilante. The lump in my throat builds and I pull Ashley tight against my chest.

That kind of stress went without saying. What happened to us was horrific, but it could happen to anyone in today’s world. When I disappeared from society, the pain of losing my family didn’t just fade away. It’s been four years and that wound still hasn’t healed.

However, after I built my home, after I learned how to forage, hunt and grow my food, once I learned how to get clean water, then I started going to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and waking up refreshed. Without all the little day-to-day moments in the city that chipped away at my soul, traffic jams, emails, to-do lists, fake friends wishing empty condolences for my family’s very real deaths, those things were crumbling the foundation of who I am.

Like a slow, steady drip of water that eventually carves out a rock, living that life was smoothing down my edges and hollowing me out.

I wonder if she’ll come back with me? I run my hand over her back and listen to her soft breathing. She feels perfect on my arm. Perfect in my life.

You know she won’t. Don’t fool yourself. This is like the opposite of a spring fling for her. Instead of going wild on the beaches of Miami, she’s letting herself cut loose in a cabin in Colorado. Different setting but the reason is the same, she has no intention of ever seeing me again after this is over.

The thought stabs my heart. I don’t want to lie here and think about what I’m going to lose. I’d rather enjoy the time we have. And that time isn’t going to be very pleasant if I don’t get my ass out of bed and build a fire.

Carefully, I roll Ashley over and free my arm from under her. I quickly kiss her cheek.

“Mmmm,” she half smiles and snuggles into her pillow.

I pull back the lasagna layers of quilts and blankets we’re buried beneath and want to shrink back under the covers. The cold clings to my skin, leeching the warmth from me as I force myself to jump out of bed and quickly pull my clothes on.

My teeth chatter as I breathe out and my warm breath hangs in the air like a frozen fog. The blankets that Ashley is under are covered in frost making the bed look like a dewy hill on an early October morning.

Yeah, fire might be a good idea.

I scurry over the painfully cold floor and race over to my outdoor gear. Once I zip up my parka and slide my feet into my boots the bitter cold air becomes slightly more tolerable and I get to work on getting a rip-roaring fire lit.

It takes some patience to get it to catch, I shouldn’t have let the coals die out. Even though I’ve done this thousands of times, once I hear the distinctive whoosh and watch the orange and red flames crawl over the logs, I still feel a sense of pride.

Standing up, I let my limbs thaw for a bit while I look down at the bathtub I put together for Ashley.

The way the water glistened over her perky breasts flashes through my mind, tempting me to jump back in bed with her and wake her up with my stiff morning wood.

The water that last night lapped at every inch of her body is now a block of ice. Looks like it’s going to take a few hours before I can dump it out and begin gathering more snow.

Now that I can actually feel my fingertips, I grab my crank radio and lower the volume before winding it up. It whirrs loudly as I spin the handle and the light on the front flickers as the voices cut in.

“San Miguel county search and rescue is coming under fire for the weather-related delay in beginning a mission to search for twenty-three-year-old Ashley Young.” A woman reports. “On the line, I have Mark Gilbert, the San Miguel County Sheriff’s Office Operations Coordinator, sir, can you explain the hold up in this operation.”

“Certainly, Sandy,” the line is crackly but his voice is clear, “we have been eager to get the search operation for Ashley underway. However, as your listeners are aware, the weather has not been favorable. We haven’t had flyable weather to send out our helicopter and with the reduced visibility and extreme drops in temperature we’ve been experiencing, we haven’t been able to send out people on the ground.” He explains.

“What do you make of the internet outrage about the delay in this operation. People are saying that Ashley Young is likely deceased due to these hold-ups.” The woman drills him.

“Unfortunately, I would suspect that is true. It’s highly unlikely that she has managed to survive in these conditions. I understand that people are upset. We are not happy about this either. We want to find every single person who goes missing alive and well, but we can’t risk the lives of our search and rescue team by sending them out in weather that could kill them,” he stresses. “At the first opportunity, we will deploy our team in search of the young lady and if she can’t be found at this time, there will be an operation to retrieve her remains in the spring.”

“Well, with the brief pause in this storm that we’re supposed to get, will you be sending out your crew before the next wave of this weather system is supposed to hit?”

“We are discussing that now, but I can reassure you and your listeners that we will do everything we can to pursue this mission once it is safe for our brave team members to do so.”

I flick off the switch. They’ve written her off for dead. I can’t help but wonder if she might let them believe it and come out to my place instead of going back to a cheating pile of garbage for an ex-fiancé and her internet ‘friends.’

The hope builds in my chest, flickering up and warming my heart like the flames in the fireplace are slowly warming this cabin. Hope can be dangerous, but, for the first time since my family was stolen from me, it feels right. I can’t help but wonder if this was all meant to be. If Ashley was supposed to cross my path and give me a new beginning. It’s certainly starting to feel that way.

I fling open the cupboard doors and take stock of our supplies. To call them limited would be optimistic. I’m going to need to get some more rabbit today if we’re going to make it through the snow that sounds like it’s still yet to come. In the meantime, I’d love to figure out something to throw together. Maybe make Ashley breakfast in bed. I scrounge the supplies and start plopping a bunch of spices down on the counter along with some condensed milk and Minute Rice. It’s not ideal, but I can make this work.