The Scent of Winter

Chapter 4: The Hawk and the Hare

Kingsley walked away, shocked by the enormity of his own anger. He shook with it, breathed steam like a dragon, almost wanted a wolf to attack him so he could kill it with his bare hands.

He headed west, in the direction of the cabin, his fury guiding his feet. He didn't know for certain what he'd do when he got there. Probably get his phone and find the path to the road and take it on foot until someone picked him up and drove him to the nearest town. Of course Søren would bring him to the middle of nowhere to tell him this secret. Had they been home in New Orleans, Kingsley could have simply gotten into his car and driven away.

If he couldn't drive, he would walk. If he couldn't walk, he'd crawl. Whatever it took to get away. He'd walk until he couldn't walk anymore. He'd walk to Portland if he had to. Fuck it, he'd walk all the way to New York.

He'd walk...

"Ah, merde." Kingsley stopped walking.

He was lost.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

He was lost.

Again.

He wasn't scared. Not like he'd been that night long ago. He knew how to survive a night in the woods now. He had warm enough clothes on him to live out here if he had to. All he had to do was find a clearing and see where the moon was in the night sky, and he could get his bearings enough to find west. He could have used the compass on his phone, except he'd left it in his other coat pocket. Didn't need it since he was with Søren, and it was almost dead.

Except he would have liked to have it now.

And his gun—he could always use his gun.

Kingsley looked up through a break in the trees at the sky and did something he wouldn't have thought himself capable of doing ten minutes earlier.

He laughed.

Ah, well, this is what he got for wishing to feel seventeen again.

"God, you have a sick sense of humor," Kingsley said.

Then he heard a twig snap.

"Case in point," Kingsley said to God. Then he turned around. "You again?"

"Did you think I would let you wander off into the forest?" Søren asked, stepping out of the woods.

"That was the idea."

"Should I leave?" Søren asked. "You can take my compass. I know the way back without it. I'll even lend you the lantern."

To prove he meant it, Søren set the lantern on the snow between them and placed the compass on top.

"That way," Søren said, pointing. "Road. Take it northwest and you'll make it to a small town call St. Mary's in three miles. Take it southeast, and you'll be back at the cabin in thirty minutes."

Then he turned around and started to walk away.

"Stop," Kingsley said.

Søren stopped, but didn't turn.

"This isn't Simon Says," Kingsley said. "You can turn around without me telling you."

"I've never taken orders from you before," Søren said, turning to face him. "It was a novel experience."

"Go fuck yourself," Kingsley said. "How's that for an order?"

"A logistical nightmare, fucking oneself. But I've always relished a challenge."

"You wanted me back."

"Yes."

"You wanted me back six years ago."