REM

White Forest

Trudging through the snow with the rest of my four-person group behind me, I felt lost. We had rented a cabin for the weekend, but now we found ourselves walking aimlessly through a blanketed, white forest. Tall, thin trees were scattered around in groups, seemingly guiding us through the area.

There was no wind to speak of, but my snow suit, gloves, hat, scarf, and wool socks were keeping me nice and warm as we continued on in search of our home for the weekend. Other cabins were scattered throughout, the open spaces – I assumed – actually roadways that just hadn't been plowed. Deep footprints were covering most of the area, along with several tracks left behind by snowmobiles. I wish we had rented some of those, it would have made the trek to the cabin so much easier.

Each of us had a bag over our shoulders, or carried a bag, with backpacks on as well. Staying in the middle of nowhere was supposed to be a getaway from the city, but we still needed food and other supplies to last two nights out in the wild. The cabins had wood fireplaces, electricity for lights and ovens, even toasters and alarm clocks. Beside those items, we had no television, no computers, and if our cell phones couldn't get a signal, they would be grouped in there as well.

As much as I liked the idea of adventure and hiking to the cabin we rented, I was beginning to think it was a mistake. We had been trudging through snow for at least a kilometre now, cabins not our own the only thing in sight. Just as I was about to turn around to ask what my friends wanted to do, I saw a large group of cabins and people in a clearing up ahead.

I stopped, waiting for the rest of my group to catch up as I thought about checking what was going on.

"What's that?" asked Mike.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "Looks like a gathering for some celebration though." They were singing and cheering about something, now marching toward us as if we were missing out, so they decided to bring the party to us.

They were all chanting in French by the sound of it. My highschool education was coming in handy as I picked out some odd words, but I couldn't make sense of what the entire phrase was. It had something to do with snow and winter, perhaps a tradition of cabin-goers in the area.

"So what are we waiting for?"

I turned to Mike to reply, "What do you mean?"

"They're clearly having fun out here. Maybe we can ask them where our cabin is," he suggested.

"Yeah," added Rylie. "Why not? Worst case scenario, we march with them for a bit and then carry on later."

Turning away from her, I looked over at Susan. She gave me an undecided look with a shrug of her shoulders.

I sighed, my breath visible in the air. "I guess," I finally answered. "But I'd feel a lot better knowing where we're spending the next two nights before getting distracted with French songs."

Mike and Rylie laughed in unison.

"Don't worry," Rylie assured me, "we will find your precious cabin before nightfall. I don't think any of us want to get stranded out here either." And with those words, we pushed forward, side by side toward the congregated cabins and line of marching people.