1
HOOD
I hammer the nails in, finishing up the last bit of work we have planned for today.
A new barn for the Crumble ranch. The operation has always been expanding, but usually we got some outside contractors to come in and build the new homes for our cows. Since I’d been leaning into construction as a long term career prospect, I figure I’d contribute to the ranch before I moved on and made my own way.
Rainier would be the one taking over the farm when the old man steps down, and he’s well on his way to being the new Crumble family patriarch. It’s the blessing of being the first born and all that good stuff, I guess.
It’s not that I’m being forced out or anything either. My father always talked up the Crumble farm as something that my brother, my sister, and I would all inherit. That it belongs to all of us. Rainier has never shown me anything but absolute respect in the business sense, most of our spats just being typical sibling rivalry.
I look over at him, and out comes his girl. Sugar. A hot little thing, he chuckles as he goes to wrap his hands around her curvaceous hips and they share a kiss. The feeling of jealousy is strong within me, and if I were a lesser man I’d probably whine and complain.
But I don't. Rainier found love. I didn’t. That’s just how it is.
A truck rolls up to the farm, and the doors open. My sister Cookie is one of our visitors, and she’s blushing red. Opposite of her is Baker, her own new squeeze.
Almost simultaneously, my siblings had found love. Right around Christmas too, absolutely saccharine and so sweet it’s almost sickening. In the month and a half since then, the lovey-doveyness hasn’t faded.
The four of them come together, and start having a chat as I put away my tools.
“Hood!” Cookie calls out. “We’re trying to decide where we want to go for Valentine’s day dinner. Come over and join the discussion, would you?”
I let out a long sigh. Valentine's Day. Because what I need is an extra dose of feeling lonely on top of it all.
“I wouldn’t want to mess up the chemistry of your double date,” I shout back with a smile. “Besides, I’m pretty happy going up to my cabin and just having poor lonely guy pizza.”
“Don’t make yourself a stranger, brother,” Rainier says. “You’re still family, no matter what happens.”
“And I don’t doubt a word you say,” I reply as I bring my bag to my snowmobile and tie it down. “But Being a fifth wheel ain’t my thing. I’ll see you four around. Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you.”
I rev up my vehicle, and I can’t hear what they say in response. Probably just wishing me well. There isn’t any cruelty in any of their words. I’m happy that my brother and sister found love. But it just makes everything I know about my future even more clear.
The Crumble ranch home would always be central to our family, but Rainier is the eldest son. He’d stay there, managing our dairy farm for the decades to come, calling it home, building his personal family. I expect countless nieces and nephews from the two of them, and as accepted as I would be, I do not want to be that weird live in Uncle.
Cookie wouldn’t be there to alleviate it by being a live-in Aunt either. Especially not when she found Baker. Baker’s pretty well off, and would be having his own growing homestead, an extension of the Crumble legacy even if under another name. Both of them were growing up and entering the next stages of their life as family men and women and I want to join them, but well, love doesn’t exactly grow on these trees.
I’m zooming up into the mountains. The snow is super thick this time of year, and I get around via snowmobile mostly. It allows me some freedom and independence, and still lets me feel like a real mountain man. Sure, Baker and Rainier’s trucks have chains on their tires, but that won’t let them cut through a blizzard like I can.
It’s not long until I arrive at the cabin I’d been working on the last couple years. This is the first year where it’s been solid and comfortable, and truly capable of being called a home. Carpentry and construction have been a passion of mine, and I thought about moving into the work on a professional level, but I’m still needed at the Crumble Dairy Farm, if only for now.
Bringing the snowmobile to rest in my garage, I toss my tool bag in the corner and stretch out as I walk out and look at the beautiful lake that’s below me. Yeah, if I’m going to build my own home, I’m going to pick an especially nice one to be nearby. A lake is below me, and even frozen solid, it’s awe inspiring to look at. During my gaze over it all, I notice some dark clouds hanging off in the distance. The skies are clear now, but another layer of snow is going to be rolling in soon.
A glance over at my wood stockpile lets me know that I probably should touch up on that. I grab an axe and pick up some logs, going over to the stump I use to split them. Swing after swing, I get into the flow. Cutting wood is almost meditation for me, not to mention one hell of a workout. If all the building and farm work didn’t keep me in shape, this would have done the job.
Sweat builds down my body and I’m pretty hot and bothered despite the freezing chill all around me. I’ve split enough logs to stay good and toasty for a while, so I toss my handiwork in the appropriate bin, and head inside. I take a towel out of my linen closet and head right back out.
There’s another lil feature of this location I’d chosen to build my home. A rushing little stream, flowing out from a hot spring, so it doesn’t freeze over during the winter. It’s still cold as fuck, but it was clean, fresh water right there year round for me to enjoy, for whatever purpose I desire.
For me, this is a little bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. I strip off my jacket, getting ready to do a little bit of private skinny dipping.
I stop a moment as I see a white wolf walking through the snow, sniffing the ground and on the prowl. I raise an eyebrow. They’re an odd sight, as they usually aren’t this close to humans. It picks up the pace, running away as it briefly notices me. I don’t think anything of it, the forest is theirs as much as it is mine, and most wolves are more scared of people than we are of them.
As I go for my belt though, I hear snarling. Then a scream. A human scream, and one of a woman. I stop what I’m doing, and get a move on. I dart through the trees, hearing the snarling continue and the pleas in the distance.
“Good doggie. Wolfie? Whatever you are, I don’t have any treats for you.”
I see her.
Red, flowing locks drape her pale, freckled face. She’s the most delightfully curvy woman I've ever seen, a proper Irish lass with glowing blue eyes, and all in all? Absolutely beautiful.
“Go on. Go away. I’m not going to hurt you. Please, go away,” she echoes, the fear in her voice very clear.
The wolf has her backed into a corner, a short plateau. It’s showing zero intention of backing off, it’s hunger driving it to go for the riskiest meal.
My fists ball up, and I act before I can think.
2
RED
I don’t know why my grandma insisted on living in the middle of the forest not far from the Canadian border. She says she wanted to get away from it all, live far away from where people would ever bother her again, but there’s places that are far more temperate to do that in. Like, Wyoming. No one lives in Wyoming. Or maybe somewhere rural in the south. No one would ever find her in the middle of nowhere in, like, Arkansas. And there’s far less snow in Arkansas.