Page 22 of Craving Chaos

She glares, then half stomps, half gimps to the log. She undoes the laces to her boot with an aggressive flair to make certain I feel her disdain, then shoves her foot in my direction. I squat and take her foot in my hands, carefully slipping off her sock. A tinge of bruising has formed around the outside of her ankle along with a little swelling, but it’s not awful. I slowly give the joint a full rotation, watching her intently for signs of pain. It’s nothing too great that she can’t mask.

“I suppose you’ll survive.” I put her sock back on like I would for my little niece and nephew.

“Like I said, I’m fine.” She’s trying to be petulant, but her tone has lost its bite.

I sit beside her on the log while she laces her boot back up. “We need to make a plan. I doubt anyone knows that plane went down—those guys weren’t the type to register a flight.”

“We can’t be too far from civilization. We were, what … a half hour from the airstrip?”

“That could be a hell of a long trip on foot.”

“True,” she murmurs defeatedly.

“Let’s focus on the plan for tonight and take it one step at a time.” One day at a time. “It doesn’t seem to be getting darker. I’d thought the sun was setting, but I’m guessing that’s just how daylight looks around here.” I’m glad we still have light but have no idea how long it will last. “We can keep going a bit farther, but if we don’t come across anything soon, we need to work on a shelter.”

“Yeah. I’d like to keep walking a little farther. Maybe it’s foolish, but I feel like if we keep looking, something will come up.”

I note the earnest hope in her eyes—golden flecks that spark brightly against the blue background of her irises. Even in these dire circumstances, she can’t help but be optimistic. That is the foundation of her bold charisma, I suddenly realize. It’s not an air of cocky confidence. She’s an eternal optimist, and I find that surprisingly admirable. Few people can take life’s hits and continue to get back on their feet with a smile.

“At least we’re dressed decently.” I stand, noting how that optimism has a way of rubbing off.

“Jesus, Donati. Your boot is covered in blood. It’s soaked into the leather.”

“I had to stop that shooter. Couldn’t use my hands, so I had to make do.”

Her gaze flicks up to me. “Thanks for that,” she says softly. It’s the first sign of genuine vulnerability I’ve seen from her, and it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever experienced. To have her give me that softer side makes me ravenous for more.

“We’d better keep moving.” My voice is as ragged as I feel inside, raw with emotions I can’t begin to name.

I help her to her feet and follow her lead. We walk for another half an hour. Urgency gnashes its frothing jaws at our heels, keeping us moving at a steady pace. I can’t remember the last time I had anything to eat. My stomach tries to complain, but adrenaline is an efficient silencer. We keep going because we have to. Neither of us would have been content to give in without having at least checked out the area. We have to try, but daylight finally dims, and the chill in the wind grows unbearable.

“Shae, stop. It’s getting darker. We can’t keep up the search anymore tonight.”

She lifts her head and peers around as if just noticing the dwindling light. “Fuck,” she curses under her breath. “What now?”

“I say we collect as many needle-filled branches as we can, maybe dig out an area next to one of the bigger trees, and make a sort of shelter. Cover ourselves with the branches, essentially. The snow isn’t as deep here, which helps.”

She nods. “We need water. I’m so damn thirsty.”

“We can probably use something in the first-aid kit to hold snow as it melts, but in the meantime, we might have to eat some snow. Just don’t let yourself get too cold.”

We break apart and start hunting for branches that suit our purpose. Too large, and they’re too hard to break off the tree. If they’ve been on the ground too long, the needles don’t stay on. We need as much insulation as we can find.

I go from tree to tree, gathering what I can. I’m about to turn back with an armload of branches when I hear Shae call out my name. She’s far enough away that I can’t tell if she’s in danger or simply looking for me. Fear shoots through my veins. I drop the branches and run in the direction of her voice. When I finally see her, a wide grin on her face, I stop and bend at the waist to catch my breath.

She’s okay. Everything’s okay.

Except even that short run was utterly exhausting when I’m so low on food and sleep. It’s not a good sign.

I stand back up as she approaches.

Shae grabs my hand and pulls me behind her. “Check it out. I think I found something.” She retraces her steps through the trees, then stops and points. “Look, it’s a cabin, right? Isn’t that some sort of shed or cabin?”

The dim light, a forest of tree trunks, and distance make it hard to tell exactly what it is, but it’s definitely something. And something is a hell of a lot better than nothing.

“Let’s go check it out.” Hope gives renewed energy to our steps, and before long, we’re in view of a tiny log cabin. While it’s not large, the logs used in its construction are thick and sturdy. It’s in good condition, though not currently in use from the looks of it. The window is boarded over. No smoke coming from the chimney. I’d guess it’s some sort of hunting retreat, which makes me wonder if civilization isn’t far.

I look at Shae, who looks back at me with a brilliant grin that could warm the coldest night. I can’t help but smile back, and the next thing I know, she’s in my arms, and I’m spinning her around as she squeals with relief.

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