Page 13 of Deadfall

“Can–can I come watch?” I nearly whispered the words.

I didn’t know which reaction would be worse—a rejection or dismissal—but he did none of those things. Instead he cocked his head slightly and after another one of his expressionless looks, nodded once. I yanked on my shoes and quickly followed him out into the night.

We headed toward the locked shed and despite my eagerness to come with him, my steps slowed as I remembered what I’d seen through the slats. Light spilled out of the wide-open shed doors, but I stopped on the threshold, torn between my past self—a girl who’d begged to be able to go on her dad’s annual hunting trip—and the girl I was now, afraid of a simple bread knife. Even looking at all the death and blood framed by the sharp knives on the wall made me nauseous.

Sacha moved about inside as he got his tools ready. “Come here,” he ordered.

I stepped to the table, but when he held the knife out I balked and backed up.

“I-I just-want to watch,” I managed breathlessly.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at the knife much less hold it. The thought of holding it made me sick to my stomach, even more than the dead carcass that hung a few feet away. Sacha’s jaw tightened. I could feel his attention slide across the cut on my face as though he knew exactly why I didn’t want to touch the blade. He turned back to the deer and I let out a stuttered breath of relief.

Despite my apprehension of the knife, I was fascinated as I watched Sacha break down the deer. He worked quickly and efficiently even though it looked like a strenuous job. He didn’t speak, but in some places he shifted his hold or stance so I could see what he was doing. When the skinning process was complete, he put the meat on the table.

“Fetch those two bins,” Sacha said.

Certain cuts went in one, while others went in the second one. I tried to figure out which was which, but it all looked the same. Sacha saw my frown at the buckets and pointed to the first one with his knife.

“Sausages and ground beef,” he pointed to the second. “Prime cuts go there.”

He worked in silence for another few hours until he got everything broken down. By the end, I was falling asleep on my feet. Sacha finished cleaning up, and brought out a machine that looked like it would be used to seal the meat for storage. I stifled a particularly large yawn.

“Go to bed,” he said gruffly.

I blinked and hesitated, but he ignored me and after I stifled another yawn, I quickly headed back toward the house before he could change his mind. On the way back around the porch, I was careful to stay in the patches of light the cabin spilled out into the night, and refused to look toward the dark trees, conscious of how heavy the darkness felt where the light didn’t reach. Maybe if I didn’t look, the bad things wouldn’t reach for me.

6

EMERSYN

Age 13

A few days later, Sacha left the bandage off my head. He took one look at my hair and his jaw tightened, a sure sign he didn’t particularly like what he saw.

He gathered up the supplies. “There’s a hairbrush in the bathroom.”

It must be pretty bad for him to mention it. He still didn’t really talk much, but I was more than okay with that. It meant I didn’t have to talk about the circumstances that brought me to him, or the nightmares I had every night which I was sure he knew about.

Despite that, Sacha and I had settled into a routine of sorts. Every morning he’d go out and chop wood and I would help him stack it in the workshop. Each day I could go for longer periods, until just this morning I was able to last until he deemed we were done.

After that was done, I would follow Sacha around. In the beginning, I’d stuck to the shadows, worried he’d chase me off, but it wasn’t long before he put me to work. If he went hunting, I’d swim or play with Fang until he returned. Sometimes I’d sit inside by the fire and read, but as the days went on, the outdoors called. I wanted to be strong enough to climb the rocks and trees, and swim in the river. I wanted to have enough endurance to explore the back meadow and keep up with Fang when he tore around the yard.

The forest still gave me quite a bit of anxiety, mostly at night, but I forced myself to overcome it. I used to love the trees and being in nature, and I wasn’t going to let fear of what might lurk in the shadows take that away.

I walked down the hall to the bathroom and stepped inside. One of the first things I’d done was figure out how to cover the mirror with a towel. I wasn’t ready to see myself with the scar I’d carry for the rest of my life. I wasn’t ready to be reminded every day of what I’d lost, and I certainly wasn’t ready to be reminded of who had put it there. I would have to confront it all eventually, but today was not that day. I brushed my hair, braided it over one shoulder and came back out to watch Sacha as he prepared dinner.

I settled into a seat at the table—something I’d quickly learned was non-negotiable—if he was here for dinner, that’s where we sat to eat. And, he didn’t like help in the kitchen although I was expected to wash the dishes every night. Despite having a sink and running water, he still made me wash the dishes in the river. I hadn’t asked why, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed sitting by the water as the sun dipped behind the trees and the day faded into night. It helped overcome my fear of the forest, although I was always careful to return before darkness set in. The shadows still chased me and if I waited too long, I’d arrive back at the cabin breathing hard, on the edge of a panic attack. Sacha never commented on it, but I knew he was aware. The man missed nothing.

Sacha set down a plate with steak, potatoes and some vegetables. The steak was cut up into pieces—again. Ever since the incident with the deer, he’d taken to cutting up my steak so I wouldn’t have to hold a knife. I didn’t dare comment on it for fear he’d stop, but the first time he did it I nearly dissolved into tears at the kind gesture.

We ate in silence, but I could barely eat because with my bandages off and my stitches long gone, it was time to think about leaving. I was strong—well, stronger—than I was before, and I was sure Sacha wanted me gone before winter. I felt his attention and looked up. He looked down at my barely touched plate then back at me, and waited. He always seemed to know when I was working up the courage to ask him something.

“When will the snow be here?” I asked.

“Few weeks.”

I frowned. “I should leave soon then.”