Grayson packed the last log into his arms and walked out of the woods, heading down the narrow street that led to his cabin. His breath came out in small clouds against the cold air. The scent of pine and frost hung thick around him.
A car drove past slowly. He frowned, squinting as the headlights flashed over him. The vehicle was unfamiliar, but the scent drifting from it, something faint yet familiar made him pause for a second. He scrunched his nose and watched the car disappear down the bend of the road.
It was evening already. The sky had darkened into a dull shade of gray blue, and the clouds looked heavy, promising more snow before dawn. He shifted the weight of the logs in his arms, letting out a small breath. Holiday season was coming fast, and soon enough, people would start arriving visiting family, crowding the quiet woods, filling the air with noise again.
Grayson adjusted his grip on the wood and continued walking. The gravel under his boots crunched softly with each step. The wind picked up slightly, brushing against his jacket, but he didn’t mind. The cold didn’t bother him much anymore. He just wanted to get back inside, start a fire and let the night settle.
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Betty glanced down at her phone again, squinting at the map glowing on the screen. “Yes… this is the right direction. I’m sure,” she muttered under her breath, half tired, half annoyed.
The road stretched endlessly in front of her, long and coated with frost. The snow piled along the sides shimmered faintly under her headlights. It had been hours since she left the last town, and her body ached from sitting too long behind the wheel.
Finally, she spotted the tall wooden gate and the old sign that marked the property. She slowed down, turning into the wide path that led to a large, grand cabin surrounded by trees. The sight alone brought a weak smile to her face. She parked in front, turned off the engine, and leaned back in her seat for a moment before getting out.
“Whew… what a long journey,” she muttered, stretching her arms as she stepped into the snow. Her boots sank slightly into it, the crunch beneath her feet oddly satisfying.
She pulled her coat tighter around her and walked to the cabin door, her heart picking up speed as old memories drifted in, holidays as a kid, her parents laughing, her grandpa’s voice calling her “little angel.”
“Grandpa?” she called softly as she stepped inside, her voice echoing faintly through the big, warm cabin.
It took a few seconds but then he appeared from the hall, older, slower, his hair thinner but his eyes still the same gentle gray.
“Oh, my little angel,” he said, smiling wide as he opened his arms. Betty didn’t wait, she ran straight to him, hugging him tight.
He chuckled against her hair. “You’ve gotten so big,” he said.
“Come on, Grandpa,” she laughed, pulling back slightly to look at him. “I’m an adult now. I missed you so much.”
He held her face in his hands for a moment, smiling in that warm, quiet way that made her chest ache. “I missed you too, my dear. Come inside, come inside,” he said, motioning her forward.
“Let me get my things first,” she said, turning toward the car.
“Oh, no, my dear. One of my boys will get it,” he said, waving her off. He called out to one of the men working nearby, a tall young man with dark hair and quiet eyes. The man nodded and went outside to grab her luggage.
“My dear,” her grandfather said again, his tone soft but full of emotion. “I’m so happy you’re here. I’ve missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” Betty said, smiling. “I’m glad to finally be here. The drive was long, pretty hectic but I enjoyed it. How’s everything around here?”
“Very well, my dear child. You see, after your parents passed…” His voice wavered for just a moment, but he steadied himself. “I thought about moving to the city. But the city was never for me.”
Betty chuckled softly. “I know. But I’m here now and I plan to stay. Maybe not forever, but for as long as I can.”
Her grandpa smiled proudly, his eyes softening. “I’m very glad you realized the city isn’t worth it that much. Coffee or tea, my dear child?”
“Coffee’s fine,” she said.
He nodded and turned to the man who had just brought in her bags. “Get her a coffee,” he said. The man nodded silently and left to do so.
A few minutes later, Betty sat by the small table near the fire, her coffee warm in her hands. She breathed in the smell, rich, earthy, comforting. Her grandfather sat opposite her watching her with quiet contentment.
“All you need now is a good rest,” he said. “Come, I’ll show you to your cabin.”
She followed him outside, walking through the crisp night air. The snow crunched softly beneath their boots. Her breath came out in light puffs, and the cold pinched her cheeks. Her grandfather stopped before a smaller cabin just across from his own.
“This will be yours,” he said, opening the door for her. The warmth inside brushed over her immediately. “It’s close, so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to come over, my dear.”
Betty smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Grandpa.”
He patted her hand and gave her one last look before heading back to his own cabin.
The same man who had carried her bags earlier followed her inside, setting the last of her luggage neatly beside the wall. “Please enjoy your stay, ma’am. Goodnight,” he said, his tone quiet, polite.
She smiled. “Goodnight. And thank you.”
He nodded and stepped out, closing the door behind him. The silence that followed felt comforting.
Betty exhaled deeply, finally letting herself relax. She shrugged off her heavy jacket and changed into something warm and cozy. The heater hummed quietly, filling the cabin with a soft, steady warmth.
Outside, the snow kept falling. She walked to the window for a moment, watching the flakes drift down, slow and endless. The view was peaceful, like something out of an old memory she couldn’t quite place.
She smiled faintly, then pulled out her laptop and opened a chat window.
Hi Vero, I just got here now. I’ll talk to you better tomorrow. Goodnight.
She sent the message and closed her laptop, ready to call it a night.
As she climbed into bed, she heard it, a low sound outside, faint and distant, like a soft “ho” carried by the wind. It came once, then again, just enough to make her freeze.
A chill ran down her back. She held her breath, listening. The sound faded. Maybe it was just the wind, she told herself. Maybe nothing at all.
Aksara