Secondary Feathers — Chapter Four
Two Souls, One Struggle: Finding Connection in Isolation
I refused to burn the “neighbourly” box of wood on principle, but by almost midnight, the cabin was beginning to feel like an icebox. I would never last through the night if I didn’t warm the place up. Why was it so cold, anyway? It might have been the last day of September, but I’d been in shorts a little over a week ago. Surely being only a few hours north shouldn’t make this much difference, should it?
Reluctantly, I dragged the box through the door and across the fir floor to the stone hearth. Then, I reached for the listing stack of old newspapers beside the couch, crumpled up several pages and wedged them firmly onto the wrought iron grate in the fireplace. Something squeaked, and the little mouse that had taken refuge there earlier darted out, ran over the toe of my slippered foot, and disappeared under the recliner.
“You can run, but you can’t hide,” I called out. Then I shrugged. “I guess I didn’t get that memo, either.”
As though understanding me, the little mouse peeked his head out from under the russet colonial frill of the recliner and twitched his whiskers at me.
“Hello,” I said. “I’m Natalie.”
