Chapter 19 | NIGHTMARES AND CAMO MEMES

"What?" Vaughn asks again, but I continue to ignore him, swiping the notification away.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

This is terrible, absolutely terrible. I just got to Alaska, and now my period simply decides it's going to show up out of nowhere?

I mean, I knew I'd be getting it somewhat soon, but now?

This is absurd.

I almost always get immobilizing cramps, and I spend the first day curled up in bed doing nothing.

I can't be doing that in a cold cave with Vaughn judging my every move and bloodthirsty wolves lurking around!

He'll definitely think I'm weak then, even though research shows that period cramps can hurt just as bad as heart attacks.

I breathe in deeply, closing my eyes.

Then, I breathe out and open them again.

Relax, Mikaere. It will do no good to stress out about it.

Besides, it only said PMS was coming up, not: 'your period starts tomorrow.'

And, this actually could work out okay, maybe!

I could plan my trip to the village to coincide with when I start feeling bad. I could maybe stay at the tavern and rest when I feel the worst, and then after the first two days and until it's over, I could go around doing some amateur detective work.

I open the app to see when it's estimated to be arriving. Today is Sunday, and it says I'll probably get it Saturday. I'm supposed to go to the village sometime within the week, so I'll plan to go on Friday.

Genius! This is great!

I set my phone in my bag with that plan set in my mind, focusing on paying attention to my current surroundings, now.

I look up and around me, but see no sign of Vaughn.

Moose, however, is laying nearby on his side, looking as if he's sleeping. But then I see his legs twitch, and I hear slight whimpers.

The poor puppy is having nightmares.

"He's fine."

I look and see Vaughn walking past the cave over to the deer, carrying a black bag.

I stand up and walk over to the dog, kneeling down and stroking his brown fur lightly, and immediately he stops twitching and whimpering.

"Aw, oh my gosh."

I stay doing that until Vaughn walks past the cave and towards his isolated log cabin, bare hands red.

I cringe at the sight of the blood, looking to the side to see the deer hanging from a tree, head up. I notice Vaughn has hung it up quite high with the rope, and I'm guessing it's because of the wolves.

How high can they even jump?

Moving to go sit on my bedding by the fire again, I stretch, cracking my back. Last night kind of sucked, to be honest. Granted, I slept soundly as I always do, but I just really enjoyed the bed at the tavern. It was so much comfier than sleeping in a cave.

When Vaughn returns, his hands are clean, and he carries a camouflage duffle bag with him.

He swiftly throws the bag next to me, where it lands on my bedding.

I don't even flinch or glance at it, I just raise an eyebrow at him.

"You don't hunt every day, do you?"

He shakes his head. "No, this should last for at least a few weeks."

I nod, looking back at the fire, refusing to acknowledge the bag he threw to me.

There's an awkward silence as he just stands there, waiting for me to say something about it.

But I refuse to. You see, I'm very dedicated to making dumb jokes.

After a while, Vaughn sighs, "Look in the bag."

I look up at him, feigning confusion. "What bag?"

He looks genuinely confused. "The one I just threw to you."

I glance around me, seemingly not even noticing the camouflage one.

Pointing to my bag, I say, "That's the only bag I see."

His brows furrow. "Are you blind?"

"No...what other bag are you seeing?"

He walks right up to me, so there's about a foot between us. Pointing to the camo bag, he says, "That one."

I pretend to see through it. "Huh? I only see a sleeping bag, some blankets, and the cold, hard ground of the cave."

He just stares at me, looking confused as to why I'm acting this way.

I smile up at him, "I forgot you that you live out here in the middle of nowhere, and you probably aren't aware of the camo meme."

Looking at me like I'm insane, he just turns around and walks to the other side of the fire, so I open the bag he threw towards me.

I frown, looking through the miscellaneous items. I see carabiners, rope, and a black bag filled with something.

"What's this?" I ask, getting more worried by the second.

He wasn't serious about me sleeping in a tree, was he?

"Arborist rope, carabiners, and a tree-sleeping hammock."

I shake my head in disbelief, "No way."

He doesn't say anything.

"What about the deer?" I ask.

"What about it? It needs to be bled for a few days. I hung it about 10 feet up, so the wolves don't get to it."

I look at him like he's insane. "That's exactly it, Vaughn. The wolves. You said that the deer is going to draw them in, and you're making me sleep outside?"

"In a tree."

"So? How high can they jump?"

"Not as high as you'd be."

My mouth remains slightly open in shock as I look out at the woods.

"Look, I realize I only just met you yesterday and all, but seriously? Nina told me someone got killed by wolves in his own backyard last year, and now I have to sleep in a tree above where they'll be? With the possibility of me falling out of said tree? Plus, it'll be cold!"

"You won't sleep in the tree, you'll sleep between a few of them, in the hammock. You'll have blankets."

I shake my head vigorously, zipping up the bag and trying to lift it up with the full intent to chuck it at his head.

However, I have no arm strength, and I probably look really pathetic trying to lift up the bag that he so effortlessly threw to me.

So, I give up on that lovely fantasy.

"No, I won't do it."

"You'll be fine."

I put my head in my cold hands for a second, sighing deeply.

Then, I raise my head and coldly glare at him to the best of my abilities.

"Vaughn, no. If you really want me to sleep in the trees that bad, you're going to have to knock me out and string me up like that dead deer," I see him cringe slightly, "because I am not going to willingly do what you are so incessant on me doing."

He doesn't say anything, so I continue on.

"Honestly, I mean, what is your deal? Okay, I get it, you really don't like people, including me, and you totally don't have to. However, trying to force people to do dangerous things and labeling it off as 'survival' is really screwed up, okay? I mean, I was fine sleeping here in this cave until the whole wolves-are-coming thing became apparent, so I think I've been pretty reasonable overall. But sleeping in a tree-tent hammock thing above the said vicious wolves? No way, it's your turn to be reasonable."

He sighs, looking down and pinching the bridge of his nose lightly with his right hand.

A few moments of silence pass, and when he opens his mouth to say something, I'm expecting him to just call me weak.

But instead, he says something totally unexpected.

"I...apologize."

Silence.

We both just sit, blinking at each other. I quickly look away, however, because his green eyes have a discerning and observant gaze that I really don't want to hold.

I consider saying something along the lines of, 'So, does this mean you aren't going to sacrifice me to the wolves in order to save your precious deer?' But before I can, he surprisingly continues on.

"I realize I haven't been the most accommodating, even though I just became aware of your existence yesterday. However, I should still treat you like a human being rather than a dead deer, so yes, I apologize."

I nod my head slowly, kind of shocked that he bothered to open his mouth and went out of his way to apologize.

"Oh, well, thanks."

"'Thanks?' Why are you thanking me?"

I throw a chunk of wood on the fire while I think of why I said that. Awkward Mikaere is back again, hate that.

I just decide to sound uncertain and be honest. "I don't know. It was nice that you apologized?"

"I apologized for treating you as if you were a dead deer; you should be mad at me."

"Well, if you want me to be mad at you, you could just tell me that I have to sleep in the outhouse."

He shakes his head, face still looking neutral except for his eyes, which have a curious look to them.

Could I actually be...not so dull as I have always thought?

No, that's ridiculous. I'm delusional.

He stands, motioning for me to do the same, so I do. Then, he looks at the camo bag and back at me, and I understand that he wants me to hand it to him.

But what he doesn't understand is that I can't hand it to him.

I rack my brain for possible answers that don't sound too snotty or sarcastic since we seem to finally be civil. However, I realize that I probably look like a deer in the headlights right now, which might be why Vaughn tilts his head slightly, looking a little confused.

I can't look like a deer in the headlights, I just got Vaughn to stop treating me like a dead deer!

Under pressure, I just blurt out, "You aren't going to go set up the hammock, are you?"

Huh. Well, okay, I guess.

Better to play suspicious and non-trusting rather than say something like, 'What? My survival doesn't depend on me handing you this bag, does it? ...Does it?'

Better for him to think my hesitancy is because I don't trust him, which I don't, rather than just be an insufferable human being.

He doesn't reply, which actually starts to make me suspicious.

"Well?"

He shakes his head, "You don't have to sleep in the hammock."

I change the subject, deciding to be straightforward and ask the biggest question in my mind right now. I mean, why shouldn't I? I deserve to know. Still, asking directly gets me sort of stressed, for some reason. "Where will I be sleeping tonight?"

"In my cabin. Why, did you actually expect me to tell you to sleep in the outhouse?"

"I'd hope not."

He raises an eyebrow, walking over and picking up the invisible bag, almost as if he understood that I couldn't pick it up. I feel intimated, once again, by the giant in front of me.

"...How tall are you?"

"Six-six."

"Wow," I nod, feeling the need to say my height as well. "I'm only five-ten."

He nods, turning around and walking out of the cave, "Grab your bag and come along."

I swiftly scoop up my duffle bag and follow after him, walking in the direction of his cabin.

In the daylight, I can observe his cabin easier. I notice there's what looks to be a wood stove or furnace thing of some sort. A window on the left side of the cabin, with one to the right of the front door, too. I see that there's hardly any snow towards the back of the cabin, where a couple of shovels lay leaning against the second smaller building.

A couple of questions pop up into my head, and I wonder if he'll answer them.

Only one way to find out.

"You don't have running water, do you?"

"Not exactly."

What does he mean? Does this mean there's a bathroom inside the cabin?

"Where do you get your water?" I ask.

"In cold months, the snow."

Makes sense.

"And in the warmer months?"

No reply.

"Does this mean you have a bathroom inside?"

"No."

"Oh, okay," I say, then ask: "What's that?"

I point to the second log building that's yards away. It's smaller than the cabin, but it looks more than double the size of the outhouse. A chimney sticks out from the roof of it, letting me know there's probably a wood stove inside.

"A sauna."

"Really?" I ask, not at all surprised when he doesn't reply. It was a useless question, as there's really no need for him to repeat himself.

However, the sauna has me excited, because that means snow can be melted on the woodstove, and I can use that to stay clean and everything.

When we reach the wooden steps that lead to the wooden porch, which then leads to the wooden cabin door, he stops and turns around.

"I'll notice if you take anything."

I raise an eyebrow, holding up my bag. "And I'll notice if you take anything."

He shakes his head, opening up the door and stepping in and to the side. I walk into the cabin, looking around, and he shuts the door behind me.

It's all one, big, open room. To the left, there's a kitchen area, which consists of wooden counters and a sink and faucet area, some wooden cupboards. Wood floors. There's a fair-sized woodstove, too. Then, to the right, there's tan carpet in the living room/bedroom type of space. A large wood-framed futon in the middle, a cedar chest, and bookshelves lining the walls. I notice a couple of cameras on top of the shelves.

There's still a fair amount of open space in here. Maybe enough room for two cots in the corner. There's a total of four windows. One on each side of the building. On the far end of the room, there's another door, which I'm assuming is the back door.

It's simplistic, but it's cozy. I don't think I've ever seen so much wood in a building; I like it.

Ignoring how Vaughn is just standing there, watching me assess the cabin, I take off my choppers and boots, setting them to the side by the door. I keep my dumb-looking hat on, however.

Then, I walk over to the shelves and nod to the cameras. "My uncle's, I'm guessing?"

"Yes."

"Can I look at them?"

He walks over, taking my bag and putting it in the corner where the imaginary cots could be. Then, he moves to go outside. "You don't need my permission, you're his niece."

I nod, "Just making sure. Thanks."

Then, I reach up and gently pick up one of the cameras, a Nikon.

As I start looking through the pictures, I hear the front door open and close.

I'm assuming he's getting wood, since there's no fire going in here, meaning it's quite cold.

Clicking through John's pictures, I smile when I come across a picture of Moose as a puppy playing in the snow. The photo was perfectly timed to coincide with the dog failing to catch a snowball being thrown to him. The snow flies all around him, and he looks like he's having the time of his life.

I love all of John's photos, as they all have such excellent clarity and composition. And, they're all in color. He refused to take any black and white images.

Vaughn returns with an armful of wood while I'm still standing there looking through the photos. "You can sit down, you know."

I don't even glance up at him as I plop down on the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce style. I think I notice him shake his head, and I totally get why he would. I probably look ridiculous as I sit in my snow pants, coat, and hat on the floor, smiling fondly at a camera screen.

Oh well.

Neither of us says anything as the smell of smoke from the fire floods the room, Vaughn going outside again as I just keep looking through the photos.

I take my time on each one, as I find each to be a fond memory that isn't mine.

When I'm finally done with the photos on the first camera, I go through the ones on the second camera, a Canon.

By the time I've torn my eyes off the screen, it's dark out, and Vaughn still isn't back inside.

After I set the cameras back on the shelves in the faint firelight, I barely notice a camera bag off to the side on the ground.

After I go and grab my phone and turn on the flashlight, I open the bag, looking through it and finding equipment plus three more SD cards.

I close my eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy looking through the pictures, but my thumb hurts, and I can't search through thousands more of John's photographs tonight.

Seeing how the fire is blazing in the woodstove, I suddenly realize just how warm I am in these winter clothes.

So, I take off my jacket, snow pants, and hat, setting them all to the side of my bag.

Then, reaching in my bag, I grab my hairbrush and get to work.

My hair is an absolute mess. Snarls and knots in it. It's terrible, but it's the price to pay for having long hair.

Once I brush through my hair, so it's frizzy but flowing nicely, I put the brush back in my bag, deciding to look at the books Vaughn has here using my phone light.

I walk over to the bookshelf, but I don't get to read any of the book titles.

Because that's when I hear the raspy battle cry of an overgrown house cat.