The Wolf Road by Beth Lewis Page A

weren’t going close to it for fear a’ Lyon and her hawk eyes spotting me. But I stuck close enough to it, thinking that if my back did get bad, I could risk being found by a kindly soul.

    From the road I went a mile or two west and came out the thick woods next to a pretty lake, water still as a pigeon full a’ shot. Trees around were good hazel and alder and elder, even a big ol’ oak reaching his branches south to the sun. He told me where I was at, made sure I kept my heading true. ’Round the lake I spied a stand of lush firs and bit farther, a whole damn field of ferns. Trees was full of scrabbling and chattering critters and I spotted nigh on ten rabbit runs without even proper looking.
    I went to the edge a’ the lake and what I saw near took my breath away. The water was clear as glass, like it weren’t really there. The shale and rocks ’neath it were white and caught every bit a’ light the sun could throw on ’em. Near the middle, the water got dark and I guessed that’s where it got deep. I didn’t see no fishes in the shallows nor nothing what would say there was fish in there anywhere. On the far side a crag of rocks stood twice-me high and dribbled fresh water into the lake so soft the ripples didn’t make it all the way over to me. It was a perfect circle, this lake.
    The air ’round there was warm too, when I breathed there weren’t no smoke and my skin didn’t go goosey when I took my coat off. No wonder them woods was full of birdsong and scratchings, I must a’ hit one of them hot spots Trapper was always rambling about.
    “Them’s where you want to be, girl,” he’d say. “Never winter in them crater lakes. You could live the life of Riley all year-round. Heat off them Ruski bombs stays warm for a hundred years.”
    I never asked who Riley was, but he sounded like one of them freeloading types. Didn’t matter though, I found myself standing on the shores of a goddamn paradise and I said to myself, Elka, this is where you got to stay for a spell and fix yourself up. You got water, you got food, and you got heat ’neath your feet.

    BeeCee had taken some big hits in the Damn Stupid a’ course, and this place was one a’ them what people talked about. The trees were huge but I could tell they weren’t old, like whatever bomb was sitting in that lake was making the water rich so’s everything grew up super quick. I didn’t care none for the bomb, it couldn’t do nothing to me now, but it made the brush thick and green and ripe for hunting.
    I did a quick bit of scouting and I found me a spot close to the crag, ’tween a stand of hazel and alder. Golden rule of outdoor living is go where the goods are, don’t be traipsing around bringing it all to you. That wastes everyone’s time and ain’t many things I hate more’n wasting time. In that spot I had me running water, trees for shelter, and brush for comfort. I figured I had a few hours afore sundown so I dumped the reverend’s pack and pulled out my knife. I found two trees just longer’n me apart, each with branches growing out the trunk about waist height. Perfect setup, that were.
    I found a hazel trunk fat as my arm and, with my knife and a rock, chopped it down to use as my crossbeam. Set that up ’tween the trees, nestled nice and tight in the crooks of them branches. I kept my head on making me a little hut so’s I didn’t think much on my back and that sticky burning. Every time I hefted a bundle of branches, the cuts on my arms opened up fresh and sent aching through me. Could a’ screamed every time if I weren’t so damn determined to get this shelter built. Once I put my thoughts to it, ain’t no amount of suffering or sorrow going to stop me from getting a roof above me afore nightfall.
    I stacked up skinny branches along the beam like a deer’s rib bones after boiling. All white and smooth and a hand’s thickness apart. Nice and close to keep me warm. I covered the whole thing in ferns and bracken