Sara sighed, letting the curtain drop as she turned away from her bedroom window. Although it was bright and sunny out there, the storm last night had left an ankle-high blanket of snow over everything. Nice. It would make checking her snares so much fun.She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, feeling a chill at the mere thought of venturing outside. She'd survived several winters out here on her own, but she'd never gotten over her distaste of being cold. One reason, perhaps, was the clothing she'd have to bury herself in to keep from freezing to death out there in the woods. Although her own coat was moderately warm, it had been made for quick trips in and out of bad weather, a dash from a warm house to a warm car. In other words, it was a feminine coat, made more for looks than practicality. Christopher's coat, on the other hand...
Knowing she couldn't put off the inevitable, Sara dressed in a combination of her own clothes and those of her deceased husband. The grey t-shirt - hers. The red flannel button-up shirt with sleeves that nearly reached her fingertips - Christopher's. The pajama bottoms covered by a pair of jeans - hers and hers. The hunting boots with balled-up paper towels in the toe - Christopher's. She barely glanced at her image in the full-length mirror as she she twisted her dark, wavy hair into a hurried ponytail. She knew what she'd see there: a woman who looked more like a child playing dress up with dark shadows under her eyes that marked yet another night full of restless sleep. It wasn't exactly a sight that would perk anyone up.
As she passed through the house, Sara paused in the kitchen long enough to snatch a handful of deer jerky out of one of the cabinets. It wasn't much of a breakfast, but she wasn't exactly hungry, either. The important thing was that it would get her through until lunchtime without collapsing.
She stopped in the living room, removing the grate and poking at the ash and embers in the fireplace. The cabin's generator provided electricity for the appliances and heating, but she preferred to use it as little as possible. If it ever broke down..well, she wasn't exactly a mechanic, and she couldn't exactly call one to fix it. By using more primitive methods for things, like the fireplace for heating, she hoped to extend the life of the generator indefinitely. Sara added a few dry twigs, stirring the embers until they caught fire, then placed a couple of slightly-larger branches on top. It wouldn't exactly heat the whole house like this, but it would keep the fire going until she got back to tend it. After running out of lighter fluid, she'd found it a pain in the neck get a fire started.
At the back door, Sara pulled the bulky, well-insulated coat from a hook and shrugged into it. Christopher used to use this when he went deer hunting, she thought, the memory softening her expression for a moment. Then shook her head vehemently, as if she could rid herself of the thought by slinging it from her head. He didn't deserve to be remembered fondly. As far as she was concerned, he didn't deserve to be remembered at all. There was no way she was going to put herself through this today.
Grabbing the walking stick that leaned against the wall, a solid piece of oak that reached to her shoulder, Sara threw open the door and stalked into her back yard. "Zeus!" she hollered, then stuck her fingers into her mouth and whistled loudly. She shoved her hands into her gloves as she waited. There was the sound of hurried paws in the snow, and a golden form burst out from behind the shed. The golden retriever barreled towards her, skidding to a stop at her feet, with his chest to the ground and his hind end stuck up in the air. His tail beat playfully at the air.
"C'mon, boy, let's get to work," she said, reaching down to ruffle his fur. Then dog and woman strode into the woods, side-by-side.
