Page 10 of A Snowstorm & A Stronghorn

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “That’s the beauty of self-sufficiency. It gives you a sense of control, even when the world around you feels chaotic.”

I think about the chaos of the past few months – Mom’s death, selling the house, and my aimless road trip. This feels so nice and normal. “Thank you for teaching me.”

He rests a hand on my shoulder. “You’re welcome. There’s more to learn, if you’re interested.”

I look up at him, seeing not just my rescuer now, but a friend. A mentor, even. “I am,” I say firmly. “What’s next?”

OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, as the storm continues its relentless assault on the outside world, Bram teaches me a variety of survival skills. We practice fire-starting techniques using different materials, from matches to flint and steel. He shows me how to purify water, how to identify edible plants with books he keeps on his extensive bookshelf, since most are buried under snow at the moment, and even some basic first aid.

Each new skill I master fills me with a growing sense of confidence. It’s not just about survival in the wilderness. It’s about facing challenges head-on and believing in my own abilities. One evening, as we sit by the fire after a particularly grueling lesson on knot-tying, Bram turns to me with a serious expression.

“There’s one more thing I want to teach you. Something that might come in handy if you ever find yourself in a situation like the night we met.”

I lean forward, intrigued. “What is it?”

“How to navigate by the stars,” he says. “It’s not snowing as heavily tonight. We might be able to see them if we go outside.”

Despite the late hour and the cold, I eagerly agree. We bundle up and step out onto the porch. The storm has indeed calmed, and patches of clear sky are visible between the clouds.

Bram points upward, his arm a dark silhouette against the night sky. “See that bright star there? That’s Polaris, the North Star. It’s always in the same spot, which makes it invaluable for navigation.”

I follow his gaze, picking out the star he’s indicating. “How does it work?”

“Once you find Polaris, you know which way is north. From there, you can figure out the other directions. It’s a skill that’s saved many lost travelers over the years.”

As Bram continues his lesson, pointing out constellations and explaining their significance, I’m captivated not just by the stars, but by the depth of his knowledge. There’s so much more to this gentle giant than I first realized. It’s not just his knowledge that interests me, but I shy away from confronting the truth that I’m attracted to him.

“How did you learn all this?” I ask during a lull in his explanation.

Bram is quiet for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the stars. “My father taught me,” he says finally, his voice tender with memory. “He believed in being prepared for anything. Said you never know when knowledge might save your life – or someone else’s.”

I think about how his father’s teachings led him to save me that night in the storm. “Your father sounds like a wise man,” I say.

Bram nods. “He was. I think he would have liked you, Fiona. He always appreciated those who were eager to learn.”

Warmth blooms from his words. “I wish I could have met him.”

“Me too,” he says softly. Then, with a gentle shake of his head, he turns back to the lesson. “Let’s see if you can find the Big Dipper...”

We stay outside for another hour, the cold forgotten as I absorb every bit of celestial knowledge Bram shares. By the time we head back inside, my head is spinning with stars and constellations, but I feel a deep sense of accomplishment.

As I settle onto the couch that has become my bed, Bram pauses by the door to his room.

“You’ve done so well, Fiona,” he says. “With all of it – the wood chopping, the fire-starting, the navigation. You’re picking things up faster than I expected.”

I flush with pride at his words. “I have a good teacher,” I say, echoing my earlier sentiment. “And... I think I needed this. To prove to myself that I can do these things.”

Bram nods. “Good night, Fiona. Rest well. We’ve got more to learn tomorrow.”

As he disappears into his room, I lie back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The past few days have been a whirlwind of new experiences and knowledge. More than that, they’ve given me a glimpse of a strength I didn’t know I possessed.

For the first time since Mom died, I have a sense of direction and purpose. It’s not a grand plan or a clear path forward, but it’s something. A spark of possibility, ignited by Bram’s patient teachings, and my own growing confidence, and the man...er, Minotaur...himself. He makes my heart pitter-patter just thinking about him.

I close my eyes, the memory of starlight still dancing behind my eyelids. As I drift off to sleep, I wonder if Bram would be shocked if I joined him in his bed. My eyelids fly open at the thought, and I quickly banish it. It takes far too long to relax enough again to try to sleep.

Chapter 4

THE STORM’S FURY FINALLYsubsides, leaving behind a pristine blanket of white that stretches as far as the eye can see. I stand at the cabin’s window, marveling at the transformed landscape. The trees now wear coats of glistening snow. It’s beautiful, but also daunting. We’re surrounded by several feet of it, effectively cut off from the rest of the world.

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