Chapter Text
It came in a shock when you received a phone call from your mom to tell you that your Grandmother died. Not only because of her death but because she left you her cabin in the middle of the woods.
The day you received the news you had just finished your tiring job. About 6 months ago you graduated from university and landed on a relatively good paid job, you can't say that you were happy, not with the way your colleagues would sneer when they saw you or with the way your boss treated you as dirt under their shoe.
That evening, after you sat on your couch to process all that has happened you started to think you wanted some change on your life. And your Grandmother's cabin was perfect.
It was good that you got paid really good at your job and had saved up a lot, so when you opened your computer and submitted your resignation letter you felt relieved. Luckily the lease on your old and tiny apartment in the heart of the city ended that month you didn't bother to renew it. With a new found energy you took 3 big suitcases from the closet and went to your room, you started to pack your life away, all your clothes, photos, and important stuff in your suitcases.
By nearly dawn you had everything on your car ready to go. As you closed the driver's door you looked at the life you were leaving behind and smiled.
7 hours later of driving and watered down coffee from gas stations you finally arrived to the town where your Grandmother's cabin was. It was a very small town, not more then 300 citizens. You made the quick decision to stop on the town's gas station before driving up to the cabin.
As you stepped out of your car you felt the chill of the cold air on your cheeks. Looking around you saw that even if it was autumn it looked and felt like winter already.
Pumping your car full you moved inside the store to pay. You found an old man sitting on the register. When he heard your footsteps he turned to look at you, not a second later he stared at you confused.
"Well hello there, i haven't see you before"
You guessed this man was used to the town's people coming here so it came to no surprised when he looked at you confused, "Yeah hi, I just moved here...well not yet but i am",
The old man smiled warmly and asked you your name, upon discovering your name and last name when you introduced yourself he smiled with pity. He told you that he knew your granny. Said she was a sweet soul with a real talent for baking. As you both said farewell he stopped you and he gave you his phone number, insisting that if you ever need anything, he or his sons would come to you, knowing the cabin was in the outskirts of the town.
As you drove through the forest towards your cabin a small smile formed in your face. The town's people were kind and the fresh air felt good, you were happy to have made the choice to run away to your Grandmother's cabin.
As you parked your car on the side of the cabin you stepped out to stare at the little run-down cabin. It’s a two stories bungalow, with three bedrooms — spacious enough for a family. A very big and generous kitchen and hearty fireplace, far too big for only one person, you supposed that she used to live up here with your grandpa too.
Dust has settled on all imaginable surface and it took hours to remove the coverings on every sofa, chair, table, and bed; and even longer to wash everything that could be washed by hand, since the washing machine and dryer in the back room have long since given up on themselves.
Your first few months consisted on cleaning and placing your clothes and things on the cabin. Most of those days you spent dusting, washing, wiping, and cooking. But you took note of all the things that needed repair, it was a good thing you saved up so much money from your job. There’s still a draught coming from the front door, the main heating system isn’t working, and
that's what made you the most anxious. As winter was not more than a couple weeks away you needed to keep warm.
On a quiet evening, you glance out of the window, curled up underneath your grandma’s red thick blanket, and watch the snow fall. It’s already snowing here. It was barely possible to do your morning walk through the woods as a snowstorm was creeping in; thankfully a week ago you called the nice old man from the gas station from town to ask where could you find wood for your fireplace, not even 2 hours later 3 men came to your cabin with a lot of firewood on their trunk, they were the sons of the old man and you thank them as they stashed your woodshed to the brim.
The thought of the nice old man doing you this favour warmed your heart a little. The kindness of a stranger is not something you see very often in the city, where everyone is busy and no one has time for anybody, but the town people took you in as one more, smiling everytime you went to town for groceries or to get blankets for winter or passing the town's library to get some books. You even met a nice young woman who presented herself as "Ieri Shoko" when you passed the small hospital on the centre of the town while she was leaning against a wall smoking, the two of you hit off pretty quick and you exchanged numbers, that meeting always puts a smile on your face.
It had been four days since the snowstorm hit and you have considered calling that nice old man to see if he knew anyone that could fix your heating system. You’re way out of your depth here. With a sigh, you pull the thick red wool blanket, knitted by your grandmother with small details engraved, up to your chin and continue to watch the snow fall. You took in the peace and quiet of the cabin and saw that the storm picked up the pace, you couldn’t possibly call the old man or his sons, or anybody in this weather, you just had to endure it with blankets and the warmth of the fireplace.
As the sun disappears and the moon begins to appear you hear knocking.
That's not possible, your cabin is in the middle of the freezing woods, miles away from town and the snow is far too thick for anyone to be walking outside. It must have been the wind.
As you begin to settle again on the sofa the knocking gets louder, more hurried and with an edge that wasn't there before. Your heart beat picks up the pace, obviously those were knocks, so you weren't mistaken the first time.
Something about that noise, unyielding and firm, pierces your heart. You can’t imagine being out in this weather. And if someone was out there they should be freezing, so quickly you get on your feet and get to the door as fast as you can.
When you fling the door open, the freezing wind attacks making you release a shudder at the cold and stinging your cheeks and nipping at your skin. Your arms rush to hug the blanket you drag with you tighter around your body, and you squint up through the blinding white of the snow at a hulking beast in front of you.
Broad shouldered and glaring at you, he watches you cower beneath his gaze. This man you realize is definitely not dressed for winter, he is dressed in a simple, fitted black t-shirt and baggy joggers, just looking at his clothes or rather the lack, of you feel impossibly colder just by looking at him. His face is hidden behind a disheveled beard, rough and scratchy. He’s a very big and hairy man.
Finding your voice you look up to the stranger, “H-hello. Can I help you?”
His nose twitches. He jerks his chin to something behind you. “Move. I'm cold"
Without waiting for your reply, he pushes past you. Pressing yourself close to the door frame, you just about avoid the graze of his arm against you. His actions makes your head spin. Who is this man? and who does he thinks he is to waltz inside the cabin.
Not wanting to get the cabin cold with the freezing air from outside you slam the door shut and turn to walk after the big stranger.
He doesn’t look back at you, doesn’t even register what you say. Instead, he crosses into the kitchen and lifts the lid of the pot of beef stew you’ve been cooking for dinner. As if he has been here before he grabs a bowl from the dished cupboard and fixes himself a bowl, you’re left shocked at how he seems to move so naturally, opening cabinets and drawers for what he needs without so much as a glance.
Still not looking at you he walks to your dining table and sits with his food and utensils, scarfing down your stew as you stand bewildered and freezed in your place.
You walk closer to where he is sitting at the table, "Who are you? You can't just walk inside others houses. I'm going to call the police if you don't go right now."
Not even looking at you he snorts, “The police?” His voice is gravelly, seemingly from lack of use. “Ain’t nobody getting up ‘ere in this wether.”
You've never been alone in a cabin on the woods and you've never had to give a man shelter from a snow storm in said cabin, but having watched a few Netflix murder documentaries you know that's what every serial killer says, and you should be afraid and running for help. But he doesn't look like he has a weapon, and there's no hint of malice or cruel intent in his words, only amusement.
As you frown you move to sit in front of him, “Well, you still should have asked for permission to come inside of my home or you could start by giving me an explanation".
He pauses eating for a second, “Your home? Didn’t know the old lady gave it away.”
You gulp, clutching the thick blanket even tighter. “You knew my grandmother?”
He grunts.
If you had learned anything on those Netflix documentals is that you should kick him out, but you know in your heart that you can't bring yourself to do that. It's horrible outside and you have no doubt that the elements would kill him if he goes outside with no shelter and no winter clothes. This shouldn't be your responsability and there is still, of course, the glaring concern of his ability to kill you. With just one sweep of his figure and you know this towering man, tall and muscular, could snap your neck with one hand easily.
Not to mention, he’s a hybrid. You can tell by the twitching of his ears and the subtle but constant sniffing, like he’s hearing and smelling things imposible to interpret by the human senses. You wonder what type of hybrid he is. He has no triangular ears or fluffy tail like a dog, he doesn’t have eyes like a cat, nor scales, but his teeth, when he scrapes them along the spoon, you know they’re much sharper than you’d like to ever find out.
You come to the realization that if he wanted to kill you, he would have done so before. And it's not like you could do anything about it, he knows you're alone and there's nowhere you can run to before the snow freezes your limbs, even if you could survive the cold the woods are a labyrinth. So basically you're trapped. Lucky you.