Page 20 of Savage Warrior

There’s no answer. I didn’t really expect one as there’s no light shining from the windows, no welcoming smoke curling from the chimney. I try the door, half expecting it to be unlocked for passing travellers. It isn’t.

I’m not giving up. I need to get inside. I feel my way around the perimeter, my palms scraping against the outer cladding of rough-hewn logs. Maybe there’s another door, or a window left unlocked. My luck’s out. Whoever owns this place isn’t welcoming unexpected visitors. Too bad.

I cast my eyes around the darkening gloom searching for something I can use to smash a window. A log, perhaps, or a lump of rock.

Or maybe a metal ring! I see such an unlikely item glistening by my feet, caught in a brief flash of moonlight. I crouch to grab it.

It’s heavy. Much heavier than it should be, by the look of it. I brace and tug harder, groaning with the effort. My hands, almost numb with cold, slip off it, but I’m not giving up. I’ve got this far, and this cabin is my one chance of surviving another day. That ring is coming up or I’ll die trying.

It seems that’s not what the universe plans for me after all. At least not quite yet. I shuffle around to attack it from the other side, grasp it with both hands, and give it an almighty heave.

The ring flies into the air, sending me toppling backwards across the rocky terrain.

“Fuck!” I pick myself up, clutching my shoulder. “Fuck,” I repeat for want of something better, and gape at the hole which has opened in front of me. It isn’t just some random metal ring left there to assist any passing burglar, it’s the handle to a trapdoor. And the only reason it had been so difficult to lift was because I was sitting on it before.

Some sort of cellar, obviously. A storeroom, maybe. Muttering to myself about being an idiot, I scramble forward on my hands and knees to peer over the edge. There’s a set of rough steps leading down, more of a ladder, really. It’s pitch-black inside the hole, but I waste no time in lowering myself down there. It’s got to be warmer than out here and sheltered. I check the trapdoor again, find a rope loop on the inside, and use that to close the door behind me.

For perhaps an hour, I simply crouch there in the blackness, grateful to have found somewhere to hide from the weather. The shrill whistle of the wind grows stronger outside, Is there a storm brewing? Sounds like it. If I have to wait it out, there could be worse places than this…

As I become accustomed to the dark, I begin an exploration of my hiding place. I entertain the hope I might even find crates of supplies—anything would do, as long as it’s edible. There’s nothing, so I decide to brave the elements once more and go back outside to collect the bread buns and crisps. I left my supplies by the cabin while I wrestled with the trapdoor. That mission accomplished, I enjoy my little subterranean picnic, then resume my examination of the underground cavern.

The walls yield nothing, the floor neither. The space is more or less square, two or three paces each way, and isn’t quite tall enough to allow me to stand straight. I bang my head every time I try to move around. I realise, if I want to avoid concussion, it’s wiser to hold my hands above my head and feel my way around, and it’s this that leads to my second discovery.

Another metal ring, this one in the ceiling.

I explore with my fingers and find wooden planks where I’d expected earth and rock. Another trapdoor, this time right underneath the cabin.

I’ve found my way in!

I wake up to the grey light of early morning poking its cheerless fingers through the crack under the door. I’m still shivering, but less so now, thanks to the pile of blankets I discovered inside the cabin. I managed to shove the trapdoor open and climb up from underneath. It was lucky for me that it had been constructed to lift and slide rather than requiring me to push it high enough to topple backwards. Otherwise, I’d probably be still down in the cellar or whatever that is down there.

It was too dark to see anything at first, so when I clambered up into the cabin, I simply crawled about on the floor looking for somewhere to settle down to sleep. I came across a bale of blankets in a corner, decided that was good enough, and closed my eyes.

I have no idea how long I slept, probably only an hour or so, but it’s almost fully light now. The wind is still howling outside, and rain spatters against the walls. I sit up and take stock of my surroundings.

A fireplace is built into one wall. The grate is empty, but a stack of firewood is piled beside it, in readiness. There’s even kindling in a basket and a box of long matches on the shelf above. I waste no time in piling several logs in the fireplace, stuffing kindling in between and striking a match. I almost burst into tears at the first comforting rush of warmth.

Next order of business is food. I hunt around for any supplies left behind by the previous occupants and find breakfast cereals, a few tins, and several bags of dried ingredients. I’m not keen on lentils, but I could live off cold beans if I have to. And now I have a fire, I could even treat myself to a hot breakfast.

I guzzle half a pack of cornflakes seated at a sturdy little table beside one of just two windows. I’d forgotten how tasty they were, even without milk; I guess near-starvation will do that. Outside, the weather is worsening. Wisps of fresh snow spray the glass, not especially welcome, but if it settles at all I can probably collect some of it to melt down for water. There’s enough here in the way of supplies to keep me going for a few days at least, and hopefully that will see me through this storm.

I’m delighted to spot two radiators and a shower cubicle. There must be an electricity supply, and running water, but I can’t work out how to access those. Neither can I see any sign of a generator, but once the weather clears, I’ll check outside.

The only other furniture is the bed and a small bookcase. There’s a pile of glossy magazines with pictures of performance cars. I can pick out a few words in English, the remnants of my scrappy education, but nowhere near enough to actually read them even if I wanted to. The handful of books that grace the shelves are also in English and look to be classics. David Copperfield is recognisable in any language, so is Lorna Doone.

The bed is three quarters in size. It fills about half the indoor space and is already made up, as though someone is due back at any time. I’m pretty sure now that this is some sort of holiday cabin, intended for use in more clement weather by people with nothing better to do than fish, hunt, and hike. That being so, I probably have it to myself for the time being, and that suits me just fine. I can rest here, let my bruises heal, munch my way through the supplies, regather my wits and my strength. I’ll need to move on eventually, but for now, I’m safe.

I spend the rest of the day dozing, eating, and gazing out of the windows at the scene outside. The snow has deepened and shows no sign of stopping yet. The landscape is carpeted a fresh, glistening white and is quite breathtaking in its beauty. The trees surrounding the cabin sway gently in the breeze which has dropped now. It could easily pass as an idyllic setting.

I watch with awe when a huge stag ambles past. He pauses to scrutinise the cabin, sniffing the air and scratching the earth with his hooves. We make eye contact briefly before he turns away to disappear into the trees. I whisper ‘goodbye’ and hope he might come back before long. I could do with the company.

I discover a stash of candles in a cupboard and light a couple as it drops dark again. The flickering illumination is just enough to stop me crashing into things, but that’s about it. Certainly not enough to read or look at pictures of cars, or anything much else. I decide not to waste the candles, I might have need of them later.

My clothes were filthy and damp after my journey here, so I shed all of those when I first woke up. They are now draped over the edge of the table, drying in the heat from fire. As soon as I can get outside again, I’ll collect some snow to melt then heat, so I can wash myself and my clothes before I leave here. There, that’s a plan. For now, at least.

Naked, but warm at last, I crawl into the bed.

Tomorrow is another day, and things are looking up.

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