“Help yourself. Anytime.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“You shared with me. I share with you.”
Don’t like that.
We’re staring at each other again, but then she looks away abruptly. “Simple hospitality,” she excuses.
“Yep.”
After that, things get tenser and weirder. Back in the cabin, I build the fire back up. Then, I nod toward my cot. “That’s yours tonight… if you want it.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“I have a sleeping bag. Just point me where you want me on the floor.”
I grimace. “I’ll be out most of the night, anyway. So, I insist.”
“Out most of the night? Why?”
“Checking and resetting traps. Best done early, before first light.”
She nods, brow knitting.
“What’s that look for?”
“Trying to figure out your life,” she says, shaking her head. “On the one hand, it seems a little ascetic. But on the other hand, it’s simple, predictable. Just wondering what would make someone gravitate toward it.”
I shrug, acting like I don’t have an answer for it.
But I do.
She just doesn’t want to hear it.
“They call you the ‘Ghost’ in town. Any reason for that beyond staying out of sight, out of mind?”
My face hardens. “It’s not out of sight or mind. It’s that no one comes up here. No one wants to work so hard to live. There’s a difference.”
“So why you? Why do you want to work so hard?”
“Because it’s freedom.”
That’s it. I have nothing more to say.
The place goes quiet after that. I light a second kerosene lamp for her because she has a journal she writes in. She spreads out her sleeping bag. Then, she leans against the wall and writes.
I crack openStarship Troopers. Try to focus. But really, I keep watching her.
I look away quick enough each time she lifts her head. But the last time she doesn’t. Just cuts her eyes in my direction.
Caught.
I clear my throat, saying harsher than I need to. “At night, you stay here.”
The fire crackles, and her face shifts.
