Chasing Freedom

XXIV

With the fire lit, he by passed by the hand-carved dining table and went out onto the back deck. The glass, by fold doors were the most modern part of the entire cabin, designed the way they were to give an unobstructed view of beyond. For good reason. And every time he stood out here, without fail, he was reminded why this deck remained his favourite spot.

His parents had picked this spot particularly for the potential placement of it. Right behind the cabin was the waterfall. The deck was built over the creek, giving a view straight across it. This time of the year, it was half in flow back down the mountain and half frozen over. He was hoping Mira would be open to wading through the creek to reach under the falls, but given how cold it was at the moment, he wasn't hedging his bets. The view of the waterfalls not even thirty feet away, the mist that sprayed through the trees and the noise of the cascading water was stunning in its own right.

"Oh." Mira's intake of breath was right at the front door. "This is amazing. When you said cabin, I thought..."

"Something more rustic?" asked Myles, without turning. "That was the idea, at one point. Then it became this. Do it well—do it once. Or something to that effect."

The cabin had been built to be entirely self-sufficient. Given that solar was too unreliable a source to run off of, the back up generators had multiple back up generators. Because of that, Myles had spent weeks up here at a time over the years, with no issues at all, even when the most brutal of snow storms rolled through.

"Is that a waterfall?"

Myles went to the large lock-up box on the deck, flicking through the key chain attack to his waist band until he found the one he needed. Lifting to the hatch, he pulled out two deck chairs and set them up. The padded cushions he found next, patting them back into shape.

"Sure is. We can walk underneath, if you're up for it. Or we can sit out here," he said, then he paused. "There's blankets I can grab if you're feeling cold."

Coming to terms with what half-human truly meant was something that would remain disorientating, he thought. He was so accustomed to what he'd always known: the mundane things he took for granted. Some of which Mira would never know. In her own words, she was too human be a shifter, yet too shifter to be human.

"I'll sit. And I have my jacket. Thank you, though."

He hated that she had reverted back to thanking him at every little moment; over things that she should have simply expected. If that wasn't a blowing red flag of the tension and static awkwardness between them, he didn't know what was.

"Did you bring any marshmallows?"

Latching the storage locker once more, Myles raised an eyebrow, caught of guard by the sudden conversation shift. "I didn't, but there's some here. Do you want them now?"

"Not yet." Mira settled into the chair on the left, crossing her legs. "I haven't toasted marshmallows since...since he died. Nowhere we went was ever safe, but in some places we could risk some exposure. Like passing through human territories for supplies or lighting a fire to keep warm at night. When we could do that, it was almost like our lives were normal. For a night. For an hour. I miss those moments as much as I miss him."

Once more, he tried to imagine himself in her situation. She'd lost both her parents in traumatic circumstances. She'd spent her life on the run, looking over her shoulder constantly. Would he have the strength to come out the other end, scarred but unbroken? Like Mira had. Like his mother had. Like his aunt, in her own right.

Myles wasn't so sure of the fact.

"I wish I could have met him," said Myles, leaning back into his own seat.