Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
I’m not having that on my conscience, that’s for sure.
Outside, the wind howls against the windows, rattling them in the frame. The storm’ll be gone by the end of the night, I’m sure, but she’ll still be here, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with her now she is.
My mind drifts, briefly, to Boone and Elias, the wives they’ve taken in the last year or so. Both of them having appeared nigh-on out of nowhere, in the middle of the woods, in the midst of a storm, looking like they came from somewhere else entirely.
Is she one of them?
She might be. Until she wakes up, I guess I’m not going to have an answer.
I lift my hands to warm them in front of the fire, and, for a brief moment, my mind returns to the comforts of the town nearby. I can practically hear my father in my head, trying to coax me back home again. We’ve got everything you need here, boy, he’d tell me. And when you find a wife, you’ll have even better reason to stay...
I push the thought from my mind and rise to my feet, checking the pot of stew that I’ve had cooking over the fire since we got back. Not much in the way of good hunting out there, but I managed to pick up a couple of rabbits and a fox who I’ve skinned and added to the stew. It’ll keep me going for the next few days – and her, too, since she’s here.
Not that I know anything about her.
Not that I know if she’ll even want to stay when she wakes up.
Finally, I hear movement behind me, and I glance around – her eyelids flutter, and she lifts her head, fingers bunching around the rough blanket I tossed over her when she came in.
Partly to keep her warm, and partly to keep my mind from getting too drawn in to the way that her body looks under the confines of those tight clothes.
Because then, I might have to admit that my reasons for bringing her here aren’t entirely altruistic. And it might have more to do with my body than the decency of my mind.
She looks around, her gaze bleary for a moment, and then her brow furrows. She sits bolt-upright, the blanket half-falling from her body, displaying the curve of her breast beneath her skintight shirt. I avert my eyes quickly.
"Where am I?" she demands, as she springs upright – but, it seems, the cold has seeped further into her bones than she realized, because she groans in pain, sinking back into chair and rubbing at her legs and arms.
"I brought you back to my cabin," I reply, keeping my voice as steady as I can. "It was bitter cold out there. You wouldn’t have lasted long in that weather."
She roves her gaze towards me, narrowing her eyes.
"Did you take my phone?" she demands. I stare back at her, nonplussed.
"I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about."
"Well, I had a phone when I slipped into the water," she tells me accusatorily, stabbing her finger in my direction as she gathers the blanket around herself again. "And a whole pack, too. Someone must have taken it, and you’re the only person who-"
"I didn’t take anything from you," I retort hotly, unappreciative of her tone. She reels back slightly, and I realize I’ve been harsher than I need to be.
This girl was clearly on the brink of unconsciousness out there, no wonder she’s a little confused as to what the hell is going on. I haven’t had anyone in this house for long enough that it’s hard to remember how to act when someone is around like this, and I need to keep my tone in check.
She sighs, rolling her eyes skywards.
"Let me use your phone, then," she replies, glancing around. "What’s your wifi password..."
"What the hell are you talking about?”
She snorts slightly in surprise. Whatever answer she expected from me, that’s clearly not it.
"I’m sorry, what year are you from?" she asks, an edge of sarcasm to her voice.
"1857. What about you?”
As soon as I come out with that, all the color drains from her face. Her hands tighten on the blanket once again, so much so that her knuckles turn white.
"What?" she breathes, her eyes widening. She seems to be waiting for me to take it back and admit it’s nothing more than a joke, but I don’t see why I should.
Did this girl just drop out of the damn sky? She’s sure acting like it, I just don’t know why.
"You really don’t know what year it is?”
"No, I know what years it is," she protests. "It’s 2025. I wouldn’t forget something like that. This is-"
She glances around at the cabin – one I built with my own two hands, when I came out here myself ten years before. Not exactly the fanciest place in the world, but it’s home, and more than that, it’s freedom.