Savage Cinderella

Chapter 7-Holding On and Letting Go

Holding On and Letting Go

When morning broke the third day, Justin showed marked improvement. He removed the splint and limped around the cabin, seeming restless for something to do. He took over fire tending duties while Brinn made breakfast. 

She set the plates on the table and wished she had something better to offer when Justin made an unpleasant face. “Seriously? Fish? For breakfast?” he asked. He grimaced as he pushed the withered greens around his plate. “I hate to complain, but we’ve eaten fish and these...vegetables,” he poked at the greens, “for three days.” 

She kept a small garden behind the cabin, but she had to share most of what she grew with the rabbits, groundhogs, and skunks. It was early in the season and they’d left her with only some winter squash, cabbage, some chard, and beans to share with her guest. 

Brinn’s cheeks felt hot. “Sometimes I have meat. If a hunter leaves a snare, I can catch a rabbit or a squirrel. But it isn’t open hunting season, and I...I only hunt when I have to.” 

Though the animals gave their lives for her survival, the violence of death saddened her. She couldn’t understand those who hunted for sport. It was cruel, unnecessary, and a waste of precious life. In the natural order of things, there were predators and prey, a food chain that on some level, made sense. Mountain lions she understood. Man and his need to conquer and destroy was something she would never comprehend.

Fish, plentiful and tasty, seemed different somehow. It was as if the rivers and streams had made them especially for eating. Kitty shared in her opinion, having taught Brinn how to fish when she was still a young girl.

“I...could make you some ravioli.”

Justin perked up. “You have ravioli?”

When she’d started working for Mr. Hoffman, he let her fill up her pack with breads, cheeses, powdered milk, eggs, and dried meats. Occasionally, she stocked up on personal supplies and sometimes took a few canned goods for emergencies, but they were heavy in her pack for the long hike back to the mountains and, to her, seemed nonessential. It had been several weeks since her last visit to the store and her supplies were low, but she had a few cans left. 

Ravioli heated, Justin ate with gusto. After breakfast was cleared away, he seemed energized and as squirrelly as she did to get outside and enjoy the day. He hobbled behind Brinn as they made their way up a narrow, winding trail, stumbling occasionally as his crutch failed to find purchase on the rocky slope. “I can’t believe that you live up here all alone. Don’t you ever miss having company?”

His query brought unwelcomed heat to her cheeks and emotion simmering to the surface. She couldn’t explain to him why she stayed here on the mountain. She never told anyone about what had happened when she was a child. Or why she continued to live in fear so many years later. How could she make anyone understand something she didn’t understand herself? All she knew was that if she left the sanctuary of the mountains, the man that haunted her would find her once again. She’d drawn invisible boundaries long ago, lines she didn’t cross except to meet Abby or frequent the general store after dark.

“I am lonely at times, but isn’t everyone? Aren’t you?” She stopped and turned to meet his eyes while he limped his way around a large lichen-covered boulder in the middle of the trail. 

A flash of acknowledgement flickered in the dark depths there. From the first time they’d met by the stream, she’d recognized the look of sorrow that lived behind Justin’s friendly smile and soulful expression. The familiarity of it drew her in, even now. A common expression she’d seen on many strangers’ faces, she sensed it even from a distance. It said I understand pain, and I carry it alone.