Cǽrvelle-The Journey

Day 2, 19th Day of the Month of Ice

As I woke up, I snuggled closer to Holly, before my hands closed on air, and I snapped awake. I quickly sat up and looked around, scared that she had been taken or injured over the night. However, as my eyes cleared, I saw her sitting at the table, freshly clothed in a shirt from the closet, fashioned into a short dress. She wore a coat on top of this, and was eating something from a plate. There was a pan on the oven as well, and as I got up, I realized that she had taken the liberty of cooking us breakfast. I crossed to the table, and sat down; taking a bite of the porridge she had prepared for us.

"Thank you, Holly" I said as I sat down, acknowledging her work.

She looked much better today, with all the colour returned to her face, and she even smiled as I mentioned it.

"Oh, it was no bother. I couldn't sleep anyways, and you made dinner last night, so I had to make up for it." She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

"Have you found anything around the cabin so far?" I asked, as I put another spoonful into my mouth.

"Not so far, but I'm certain we can find something, now that it's day."

I finished my porridge, making small talk as I ate, joking and laughing. When I had finished, I crossed to the sink, and set the plate down, walking across the rug as I did so, marvelling in the softness of the fur. I took a step, and rather than the hard thud of the concrete, a remarkably loud clank could be heard, seeming to echo before diminishing. I stomped in the spot again, and the sound replayed. Setting my bowl in the sink, I peeled back the rug, as Holly stood nearby. Underneath the rug, cut out of the concrete floor, was a large metal panel, a heavy iron handle inlaid in the metal. I looked at Holly, and she gestured to opening it. Grabbing the handle, I yanked up, but it wouldn't budge. I tried again, but it seemed to be stuck shut. I stood up, dusting off my pants, and walked over to the door. Tossing coats aside, I picked up the coat hook, and kicked off the feet, leaving a seven-foot long metal pole. Wedging it inside the hook of the trapdoor, I pulled up, using the added leverage to assist me. With a crack, the trapdoor sprang open, releasing a blast of cold, musty air from below. Returning the coat rack to its proper place, I went over to the hole and, grabbing a lantern off the table, began to descend the ladder. The room below was not a large one, but it was possibly the best thing that could have happened to us. In addition to large crates labelled FOOD in large black letters, and in multiple languages, a dozen other crates lay open, displaying rifles, swords, and pistol and shot. A few leather knapsacks, and a couple leather trench coats, hung on pegs on the wall.

"Holly, you might want to come down here!" I called, before seeing her long, pale legs descend through the trapdoor.

"Bloody hell, we're set!" she exclaimed, opening the boxes of food and extracting tubs of butter, whole turkeys preserved in ice, bags of flour, and several loaves of bread.

"I wonder who lived here." I said aloud, removing a rifle from a box, and noting the unfamiliar, seemingly gas-powered mechanism.

Turning the gun over, I read the inscription on the stock. Lañn nă Ţiʼne read the inscription, from a language that I couldn't possibly translate. Inspecting the mechanism closer, I noticed a slot for bullets, but didn't seem to have a way of expelling casings. I picked up a cartridge from nearby, and noticed it only contained solid brass bullets, with no shell or powder to be found. Holly walked over, a stack of clean clothes in her arms.

"Collin, we're not here to fight, we only need to survive."

"I know, it's just... what if that wolf think comes back?" I responded, bringing up last night's terror.