His Cabin in the Woods

The forest was so quiet and calm. Mara noticed it about two hours into the trail, the steep rising high. Not silent, as forests were never truly silent, but it was a quiet that made every sound amplified and louder. She loved that she chose this forest to trail on. 

Mara liked hiking alone. Not because she disliked people, thou that might be a back of the head reason, but because she enjoyed so much the silence that the woods bring, and the honesty that came with it. When she walked through a forest there were no expectations, no one needed explanations, no one asked questions about where her life was going or why she had made certain choices.

The forest simply existed. And if you walked long enough, your thoughts eventually became quieter. At least that was the idea.

Mara stepped over a fallen branch and adjusted the strap of her backpack. “Okay,” she muttered to herself. “You came here to clear your head. So maybe stop replaying conversations from three weeks ago.”

The forest did not respond. She chuckled at the thought that it might, adjusted her backpack again and kept walking. The trail was narrow and slightly damp from melted frost. Tall pines stretched high above her, their needles filtering the afternoon light into soft green shadows.

It was colder than she expected. It was end of November almost and the frost had already fallen for some days, yet the air was still managable. She was sure that winter was clearly waiting nearby. The weather app on her phone, this morning, showed a high probability of snow in the upcoming hours. She will be on the road home by then.

Her boots crunched lightly against the forest floor. A bird called somewhere above. Mara inhaled deeply. The smell was so enchanting: pine, wet earth, cold air, all filling her lungs at the same time. Way better than the smell of her apartment building hallway. Better than the smell of stress. She smiled faintly.

“See?” she told herself. “This is why we hike.”

The trail curved along a slope that overlooked a valley between the mountains. She paused for a moment to look down at the trees stretching endlessly below. Then she pulled her phone out of her back pocket of her hiking pants. No signal for the past 10 minutes. She slipped it back inside.

This was exactly what she wanted: no notifications, no messages, no voice telling her she was overthinking everything.

Her smile faded slightly. She kicked a small rock down the path. Five years. Five years with someone who believed emotions were problems that needed fixing. She’s been called so many times emotional, intense, too much… that she had started echoing it in her own thoughts.

Mara shook her head. “Nope,” she said firmly. “We are not doing that today!” She rounded another bend and paused to check the map on her phone. Even with no signal, she had the map locked in, but the trail was simple enough.

Another twenty minutes or so and she’d reach the overlook. It will be so worth it. The wind shifted slightly through the trees. A strange prickle ran along the back of her neck. Mara looked around but nothing moved out of place. She stared for a few seconds longer, then exhaled.

“Congratulations,” she murmured. “You now scared yourself.” She laughed out loud of herself and continued up the trail.

Far deeper into the woods, Rowan stopped moving. He had been splitting wood. The axe hung mid-air in his grip when it hit him – pain. So sharp and so sudden.

His chest tightened instantly as the sensation flooded through him. A bright spike of physical agony, followed by a wave of shock. Rowan set the axe down slowly. Was this an animal getting hurt? No large game was ever disrupted by these parts of the forest. That’s why he took to being here. He closed his eyes and focused on the emotions asaulting his body: pain, shock, disbelief. Animals don’t feel such a plethora of feelings, theirs were simple and direct. It was clear as day that this was a human.

Another surge of emotions wafted through him: confusion, embarassement, anger. His brow furrowed. Most humans felt like chaotic storms to him—too many things at once, crashing together. But this came through clearly, distinct layers stacked over each other. How strange.

Rowan turned his head slightly toward the northern slope. He could feel the direction instinctively. Another pulse struck him. This time the pain exploded through him so sharply he inhaled through his teeth. That’s definitely at least a broken bone by it’s intensity.

He exhaled loudly and looked at the sky. The cold air carried the scent of snow. There was a storm brewing and he knew better what that meant for the stranded person. He drew a hand up and down his rugged beard and moved to retie his shoulder lenghth black hair. He picked his coat from the long nail it was hanging from on the side of the shed, put it on and armed himself for what will come next.

Rowan moved through the forest quickly but silently, boots barely making a sound against the forest floor. The emotions guided him as they grew stronger with every step. Fear flickered briefly, then it disappeared.

Interesting. Most injured humans panicked. This one… didn’t. Instead there was annoyance. Lots of it. And, humor? Is this human finding humor by being in pain? Who the fuck laughs while breaking their bones?