Sounds of the Wild

02.

Wren

Waking up, the silence still crushed me. I knew that the one year anniversary of Jessie's death would come soon. I don't know if I'm ready for it.

My morning routine was quick, and efficient: put on cloths, brush teeth, tie up hair.

We had run out of coffee a long time ago, back when mom was still alive. But I had found some camellia seeds in the cellar of the cabin, the first round of tea leaves were picked a month ago, and I had enough to last me till the next harvest.

Quietly, I sat at the window seat in the kitchen, looking at the beautiful Colorado forest that had surrounded me for the last 5 years.

I don't think I've talked in the past year, I mean, why would you need to if there's no one around to hear it?

I read a book on snare traps that I had found. Turns out the prior owners of the cabin were aspiring bushmen, go figure.

Today was the first day of trying to trap animals, so far my diet had consisted purely of plants and fungi, and the occasional game meat when I happened across an animal.

I have only used my bow to protect myself once, about a couple of months ago I found myself in a fight against a mountain lion. Needless to say I'm the one left at the end of the brawl. But it hadn't died before making sure I knew its strength. I still sport the four jagged lined scar above my hip from its claws.

Sewing up myself had hurt like hell, but it had been necessary to keep me from dying. Which seemed to be my only objective at this point.

The sun was already above the horizon, which meant that it was time for me to get started on my chores. There were always so many things to do and not enough time to do it.

First was to look over the garden. It was about time to pick the kale and carrots, but it looked like they needed just a little more time. I plucked at the weeds that had missed my gaze the other day, making sure that the plant beds were devoid of all unwanted green. It took a little longer than expected, but I kept finding more and more. I guess weeding is a job that's never done.

All round, the noise of the desolate world seemed to envelope me, but I knew that at any chance someone, or something, could encroach upon the farm.

It was peaceful, in a depressing sort of way. Even though I was wary of my surroundings, I couldn't help but get lost in the organic flow of nature.

I stood, frozen. When did the leaves change color? It seemed to have happened in a blink of an eye.

Guess my birthday was a little while ago.

The changing of seasons from lush green to bronze and brown was how I knew that I had aged another year. But it was bittersweet.

Delicately, I reached up to finger the piercings at the top of my left ear. Jessie had done them for me as a birthday present when I turned 18. We didn't have anything to make the day any different from the one before or after, so she had proposed this.

Every birthday, we do something that we will always remember.

One thing I can remember is how much the piercings had hurt, or at least, the after effects of them. Our supply of alcohol was limited, so Jessie had reasoned that soap and water was probably okay to disinfect the homemade jewelry.

Turns out it wasn't.

It got infected within the week, but like the stubborn person I was, I kept them in and cleaned it every chance I got.

Over time it healed, but I now that I barely look at myself in the mirror, it would escape my memory, that they were there.

Sometimes, I would put my hair behind my ear, or walk past a reflective surface, and be reminded of that day, and my sister.