Page 34 of Craving Chaos

“I’d have a little bit better of a chance,” I blurt in frustration before realizing the argument is utter bullshit. That bear would shred me to pieces in a heartbeat.

My teeth ground together until my jaw aches. “Fine.” I shove my hands in the water and start vigorously wiping away the blood with unnecessary vigor. “But you better take the ax.”

“So gracious of you, my liege, to allow me outside.” She curtsies, then swipes the bucket away from me, leaving me dripping bloody water on the cabin floor. The door slams shut behind her.

Well, shit. That was a clusterfuck.

I wipe my hands on a towel and put the skillet on the stove to distract myself. I’ve also put bones and other non-edible bits in a pan to stew for broth. We didn’t want a single ounce to go to waste. We even set aside the hide, though I have no fucking clue what we plan to do with it. Surely, we won’t be here long enough to need it.

I usher out the thought as soon as it forms. I don’t want to think about that today. I want to go back to the way it felt when we found the rabbit. For a few timeless minutes, everything was right in the world. Like anything was possible. I need that—we need that—if only for a day.

Then you need to find a way out of the hole you dug for yourself.

Seems a little ridiculous that what I said dug a hole, though. Was it so awful to want her safe?

I continue to mull over the question as I watch over the cooking meat. Soon, the savory smell has me feeling ravenous.

“Oh my God. That smells like heaven,” Shae says when she returns.

We both stand over the skillet and stare at the meat until it’s ready to eat. When that first bit of rabbit settles on my tongue, I have to close my eyes because I’m overwhelmed with how fucking divine it tastes. No spices or flavoring, and it’s still more delicious than I could imagine. Hunger has got to be the best seasoning to ever exist.

I don’t even care that the meat is still hot enough to scald my tongue. We devour every scrap, and the juices are poured into the broth pot, which we put on the stove to start simmering. The meal isn’t huge, but it’s so much more substantial than anything else we’ve had that we both sit back after eating like fat house cats who’ve licked their plates clean.

“You think we’ll get another one tonight?” Shae asks quietly as though she’s afraid to ask aloud and jinx our chances.

“God, I hope so. We might do a little more scoping to look for tracks. See if there’s any other places we want to set traps.”

“Don’t you think we should get that bonfire going first? Don’t need food if we can get rescued.”

“Yeah … I suppose you’re right.” I’d somehow put the bonfire out of my mind and forgotten about it. “Guess we should get to work while we have energy from the food.”

We spend an hour gathering the largest limbs we can. It takes another hour for the thing to get going without any accelerant. Once there’s a tower of flames, we stand nearby and watch in silence.

Logically, I know a rescue attempt won’t materialize immediately, but it feels odd to set the fire and walk away. Like we need to keep watch just in case. We’re so damn exhausted, though, that even standing there feels like a chore. Eventually, we give in and return inside, both of us regularly casting brief glances out the small cabin window. For what, I don’t know.

“What the hell do people do out here to kill time besides sleep?” Not that sleep sounds bad. I just don’t want to miss anything.

“I found a deck of cards the other night—it’s on the shelf. It was good for a few hundred rounds of solitaire.” She smirks, making light of the situation, but I’m reminded of what she did for me and how grateful I am.

“You were right,” I blurt out of nowhere, making sure to keep my gaze trained on hers. “I was trying to protect you instead of trusting your judgment. It’s a hard habit to break, but I’ll work on it.”

She nods and takes the cards out of their box. “War or crazy eights?” she asks with a soft smile.

I didn’t think she’d necessarily rub my apology in my face, but I’m still a bit surprised she lets me off the hook so easily. I remember thinking she always had to have the last word. It’s yet another way I misjudged her.

“Crazy eights? What kind of pussy games do you play?” I tease, following her lead back to a worry-free day of celebration.

“Scared you’ll lose?”

I crack my knuckles and sit forward on the stool. “Deal the cards and prepare to go down.” I hear my word choice after it’s already been said. I tell myself that not everyone is tuned in to double entendres, but I know I’m not alone when Shae’s blue eyes brighten with a smirk.

“In your dreams, big guy.”

As if my fantasies about her are limited to my dreams. If she knew where my imagination takes me lately, she’s likely to feed me to the bear.

We play close to a dozen hands of cards—all different games. She wins the majority and proclaims herself champion. For once, I don’t mind losing.

When the last glimmers of dusk reflect off the sparkling snow, we go stand by our dwindling bonfire. So far, the only thing to come from our blaze is a pile of ashes.

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