Four Paths with Bigfoot

Chapter 7 Humans Connect on the Outside

"Morning," whispered Barin pointing at the state of the art coffee maker on the counter.

 The walls in the living room matched the floors on two opposite standing walls. The wall that connected them was royal blue, a stoned encased fireplace was standing at its center.

"Thank you," she whispered back.

Once they had poured their morning caffeine, they instinctively crept outside.

Stepping out into the curated wildness, an peculiar force urges Nicey to break into a sprint into the trees.

Just book it, right to the edge of the property, past the gates of the property, then further.

Far was the destination.

Out of grasp was the goal.

"awoooooooooooooooo."

A collective of howls crescendo  in the distance.

"Guess not."

She smirks.

Pausing her movement for a second, she instinctively hugs her suddenly bloated stomach.

Her period had arrived.

"God I had it two weeks ago."

It was coming twice a month, for the past three years.

"You probably need healing, something is wrong." Fort had remarked.

He probably was right, something was wrong, but she knew better, he did not actually care, more annoyed than anything.

Nicey being on the period meant no "smexy times."

As painful and draining it was,  inconvenient as it could be, especially for someone with severe anemia  as she did, it had its merits.

No contact with Fort.

It use to hurt her feelings that for him intimacy was just sex, when she was bleeding he was aloof and distant.

Uncomfortable.

The way someone carefully steers around a soon to be dead deer carcass bleeding out on a road.

The driver is able to acknowledge the suffering, but cannot muster enough fortitude to end it. 

Instead they increase the pressure of the foot on the pedal.

How is was on the freeways of upstate New York in the early summer.

Driving to a wedding, Nicey used the last of her savings to ensure she could witness her favorite  cousin be wed.

Miles and miles of deer bodies scattered throughout, failed fatal attempts to cross.

Dead deer with backsides missing, large open holes with spilled entrails, rotting in the heat.

Dark steely wide eyes frozen in a  mix of terror and determination.

Returning her horrified gaze, as she viewed them.

"We still exist."

As they drove past the carnage, she noticed  miles of long grassy medians, where thousands and thousands of bushes with red flower adorning them.

Staghorn Sumac.

Nicey remembered her fourth grade teacher, Mr. Hatch, alerting the class of nine and ten year olds of the presence of the plant.

"Deer love to eat this. The flower and the branches." 

The teacher informed them.

She remembered that this plant did not thrive in the shade, but in the sandy or rocky soils at the edges of roads.