The Cabin in the Distance

A young lady sets out on an adventure to try to find out who she really is. What she learns will change her life and the lives of those around her forever.

The snow was blinding, even near dusk. She raised her head and saw the cabin just off in the distance. It was small, but its dark wood stood out starkly against the bright white that the whole world seemed to be made of. The steep, pitched roof had a single chimney, billowing large puffs of smoke that wafted slowly up above the surrounding trees and dissipated high above them. She pulled her bearskin wrap tighter and closer to her cheeks to fight back the offending wind, but it did little to help. Crunching through the snow, she made her way further, knowing she would soon reach the cabin door.

She thought of her travels so far and realized now, at last, why they had told her a horse would never carry her all the way. The grade of the mountainside had often caused her feet to stumble, and she would often lose her footing, taking her backward again and again. Raising her head once more, the cabin seemed to tower above her. She was so close, yet so far. Maybe it would have been easier to climb in better weather. Maybe that’s why she never came out in the snow. Maybe she should have known better than to try, at least during the winter.

But no. She had had to come. She’d searched her entire life for this man, this phantom that she had often believed to be dead or so far gone she’d never find him. All the stories, all the years of wonder, all the years of looking in the mirror and wondering if they were his eyes, his nose, his high cheekbones. Would they be? Was it really him there in that cabin? Would he care that she’d traveled so long and so far just to find out?

She realized now, trekking the last few steps up the steep hill, that she didn’t care. Even if it weren’t him - although she believed with all her heart that it would be - she would still be wiser for the journey. It had been nothing if not an eventful one. At barely twenty years old, she had already traveled farther alone than any other girl she had known. And maybe that said something all by itself about her character, her lineage, and her future.

Just a few steps away now. She could see a candle flickering through the window where a curtain was drawn back. Still too far away to see inside, just the sight of the flame made it feel even colder as the wind whipped small tufts of loose hair across her face. She squinted, lowered her head against the wind, and kept moving forward and upward slowly.

When she was finally standing on the landing at the top of the hill, just mere steps from the front door itself, she paused and took a deep, shuddering breath of freezing air. This was the moment she had waited for. The moment she had dreamed of, even if some of those dreams were nightmares. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but after all this time and all these miles, she saw herself lifting her small fist to knock as if it were just another of the dreams she’d grown so accustomed to having.

After quite some time, there was a loud creak as the heavy wooden door slowly swung open. There, standing before her, was a man she’d never seen before. Of course, she had expected that much. She studied him and realized how different he was in real life, as opposed to how her lofty thoughts had painted him. He was tall, but not nearly as tall as she’d expected him to be. His scowl sat perfectly between a bushy gray beard and a patch of mustache that had obviously had no attention paid to it in some time. She saw the scar leading out from that mustache, seeming to grow like a winding vine up and underneath his great, high cheekbone, towards the corner of his furrowed brow and disappearing into a hairline that was almost as gray as his beard. He peered at her with eyes that were so brown, they seemed black, as he stood there, still holding onto the door with one hand, the other hanging limp at his side.

“Who’re you?” he asked, his voice deep, gruff, and emotionless. He didn’t ask all the obvious questions she had expected for so long: how did you get here? Why are you alone? Did someone send you? There was none of that. She had thought her unannounced presence would be enticing to him somehow, but she could see that it was anything but. That made her wonder. Did he often have visitors in the dead of winter, at night, with no other company in sight? Or did he simply not care? It’s funny. She had come to get answers, but before any had ever been gathered, she’d already come up with even more questions.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before she finally mustered the strength to take a breath, clear her throat, and speak. “My name is Nova,” she announced, trying to hold her head high, even though the cutting wind made it hard to do. He had not invited her inside, so she had no choice. She gave him a moment after telling him her name, wondering if he would remember it. Of course, she had never stopped to wonder if she’d even been given a name before he left. In her mind, if he was who he was supposed to be, then maybe she was just some nameless prodigy that he simply hadn’t kept up with.

The name had not struck a bell with him, she could tell. He still stared at her, waiting for more than just a name. He had wanted to know who she was. Should she tell him outright? She knew that, really, she had no other choice. What other reason could she possibly have for standing here in the dark, in front of his door? She took another deep breath. “I see that you don’t know who I am,” she said after a long pause, “But I’ve…”
He cut her words short then. “I know who y’are,” he growled wearily, turning away from her as he spoke, yet leaving the door open as he walked back and sat down in his high-backed chair in front of the fireplace. She peered inside, cautiously following. Once inside, she pushed the door carefully to shut it and turned to stare at him. He took a deep breath, staring into the dancing embers of the fire. “I’ve waited a long time,” he went on. “Figgered you’d be comin’ sooner than later. Just didn’t expect y’to travel in the snow, but I guess a body has to do what they have to do.”

When he stopped speaking, she didn’t dare breathe, waiting to see if there were more he would say. She waited a long time and finally realized that, at least for the moment, he had nothing more to say. Now it was her turn, but she hadn’t played this particular scenario out in her head, so she was unsure as the words began to come. “You know me?” she asked, almost whispering. “You know who I am?” He nodded but still spoke not a word, even though she gave him plenty of time to do so. She wanted to ask a million questions just then, each volleying for the position as first, yet she didn’t know where to start. This was not part of the scenario she’d imagined. He was supposed to be some mystical man who never knew she existed and would be either vehemently opposed to her presence and cast her away forever or would take her in with sweeping, loving arms, erasing all the years she’d spent being fatherless. This man, gray and worn and weary, sitting in front of a tiny fireplace, was not one of the characters in the play of her thoughts. And because of that, she didn’t know what to say. So she blurted out the one thought flitting most vehemently at the edges of her heart. “Why did you leave me, then?”

Finally, he slowly turned his head in her direction, but she could not read the emotion she saw there. He stared directly into her eyes for a long time, his own eyes squinting, his brow furrowed. He seemed to be taking in all the years he’d never been a part of, yet so far away he might not actually feel anything. When the solitary tear slipped from his eye into his beard as he shook his head, she knew that he did, though. “I didn’t leave you,” he said, with determination in his voice, turning to stare again into the fire as if the heat could dry that tear and keep others from falling. After a moment, he shook his head again. “Sure didn’t.”

In her mind, he was supposed to follow that statement up with an immediate explanation, but he didn’t. He stared into the fire, and she stared at him, and so it remained for another long while, neither of them knowing exactly what should come next. Not a single way she had ever imagined this happening was going to come true, so she felt completely out of control. All the while, her thoughts ran wild with what he must be thinking. If he’d known she was coming, why hadn’t he tried to find her instead of waiting for her to come to him? But she dared not ask anything else right now. Maybe it was best to allow him to sift his thoughts long enough to be the next one to speak. And sure enough, that’s how it happened.

“I reckon you come fer answers,” he growled in the same low, raspy voice. “S’I reckon I’ll give you some. But I didn’t leave you.” He pushed himself up out of the chair and moved slowly to a doorway that led to what she soon saw was a kitchen. He took the lamp from the table by the doorway and sat it in the middle of a small, roughly made wooden table, really only meant to seat one. Still, there were two chairs, and he swung his hand in the direction of one of them, seeing to it that she sat before he did. He reached and twisted the small handle on the lamp, causing it to give off a bit more light, and moved towards the wood stove where a kettle sat boiling. He moved through the procedure of making two cups of something she soon realized was tea after he sat it in front of her. She gripped the cup tightly, sighing in contentment as some of the cold was chased away from her fingertips. She sipped lightly as the aroma of orange peel wafted up to her nose.

As she was enjoying the warm cup, he sat down with his and settled into his chair. From the corner of her eye, she could see that he was staring at her, though she didn’t let on that she noticed. She wondered if he was finally seeing her features, there in the light, and seeing that she was the spitting image of what he was sure to have looked like in his younger years. She continued sipping the cup with her fingers interlaced around the tin, closing her eyes to enjoy the savory flavor.

After a long while, she heard him sigh. “I don’t hardly even know where to start,” he nearly whispered as she finally turned to meet his gaze. “What’s it been? ‘Bout twenty years, I’d say.” She nodded but didn’t interrupt his thoughts. He was staring down at his folded hands, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll never forget that day,” he went on, “Worst day of my life, it was. Lost you ‘n’yer Mama too, on the same day.” She saw another tear slip down his cheek, and she fought the urge to reach and wipe it away. It was quickly followed by several more as he took a ragged breath. “I’s fightin’ in the revolt at the time you’s born. Our village was small, but our warriors were fierce because we believed in what we was protectin’. But sometimes a man can only go ‘til his strength gives out, ‘n that’s what happened that day. Reckon we all give out at the same time.” He paused now, lifted his cup and sipped deeply, then sat it back down. “There was s’many more o’them than there was of us. We got beat back ‘til they just overtook us right at the edge of the woods. Yer Mama, she saw what was happening ‘n I reckon that’s why she lighted out t’ards us like she did. When I saw her comin, I took to running to try to reach her ‘fore they did. But I didn’t…”

His voice cracked hard and gave way as he dropped his head low. Sobs racked his body silently as she pawed away tears of her own. She’d never heard this story. In fact, this was nothing like the stories she’d grown up hearing. She would have cursed him and called him a liar, except that she could see this was not a lie. Sobs this deep didn’t come from a heart that wanted to create a story but rather one that had lived through the pain. If it was a lie, it was the best she’d ever seen played out. No one had ever managed to bring her to tears before.

After some of the agony seemed to pass away, he raised his arm and wiped away snot and tears together on the same sleeve, not seeming to care. He didn’t meet her gaze this time, though she couldn’t tell if it was because he was ashamed or lost in thought. Surely it was the latter, she decided finally, as he picked up the tale again, as though it was all brand new. “They filled her s’full of arrows, she didn’t stand a chance, even after I got to her,” he went on, his voice breaking again slightly. He shook his head, his tired, teary eyes fixed on that moment in time. “I held her… and she cried. Said she’s sorry. Please don’t let ‘em get the baby, she said, whatever y’do.” He stopped again and sobbed even deeper. After a while, he wiped his face again on his other sleeve and continued. “They shot me then, more’n once. Figgered they’s leavin me for dead. I laid still too, t’let ‘em think that’s just what they did. Just laid there with yer Mama, watchin’ ‘em raid the houses. Heard the screaming. Saw the fires. Just had t’lay there and watch it all. By then, I’s the only one left. There’s no way I coulda stopped ‘em. After all the killin’ was done and they left, I started crawlin’ t’ards our house. Reckon I passed out more’n once cause it was dark before I’d even made it halfway. ‘N that’s when my brother came and found me. He’d seen the smoke and come ridin’ up. He wanted to get me back to his village, not far away, but I couldn’t leave without you. S’he finally took to lookin’, searched ever’ house, but you’s gone. Reckon they’d took you.” As his tale drew to a close, more tears fell, but he didn’t bother wiping them this time. He seemed to be finished speaking, but she could tell he was still seeing it in his mind’s eye.

She waited a long time, sipping more of her tea before she began to speak. “I never heard tell of any of that,” she said quietly, and he finally turned his eyes her way. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. It must have been awful.”

He nodded slowly. “What did they tell y’? Them people that took you?”

She pursed her lips and tried to remember who had told her first. Then she figured it didn’t really matter. She knew, in his heart, he’d kill them all if he had the chance, so the ‘who’ didn’t really matter at all. “They told me that my mother had died giving birth to me and that my father was a drifter,” she said finally, breaking it down to the bare facts. “I always wondered why I didn’t look like any of them. Why my eyes were so dark, and theirs were so blue, or why my hair was so black, but none of them had black hair. They said I must have taken after my father because my mother didn’t look like that.”

His smile made her pause and wait. Something she’d said seemed to have caused him to remember again, so she waited to hear what it was. “Oh, that’s not true,” he said, still smiling. “You do look like me, it’s true, but you look so much like her, too. Your nose, the shape of your chin. Even your fingers.”

She looked down at her fingers, never realizing he’d even paid any attention to them, sticking from the ends of her fingerless gloves. “What was her name?” she asked, staring back at him again.

“Willow.”

Then she quickly realized that she didn’t even know his name. “Oh my!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands over her mouth for a moment, “What is your name, Papa?”
The term of endearment brought shudders of sadness into his shoulders again, and for a moment, he couldn’t answer. When he regained control of his steadiness and voice again, he replied. “I am Adler.” His voice was quiet now, full of emotion that she took as hurt, regret, a loss that he had never quite recovered from. He slowly raised his eyes and added, “But you can just keep calling me Papa. I like that.”

She smiled honestly, reached out to her, and laid her hand upon his. He covered it with his own and sighed deeply. Maybe there would be a way to regain some of the years they had lost after all.

Author's Note

I'm most interested in finding out how the dialogue comes across. I wanted to represent Adler as an older, fairly uneducated man, but one who loved deeply. I wanted his lack of proper grammar to come through without making it hard to read. Any suggestions would be appreciated, on that topic or any other!

Reviews

[Buddy Hayes]

Great writing! My favorite line---..."This man, gray and worn and weary, sitting in front of a tiny fireplace, was not one of the characters in the play of her thoughts." The dialogue flows well and doesn't get in the way of the character's voices. In other words, authors will oftentimes shoot themselves in the foot with lots of expository he said/she said, rather than just letting the characters speak. We want to know them! Good job!

[Aslynn]

Thank you so much, Buddy! That's exactly what I was hoping for :-) I appreciate your review.

[Dara]

I think you did an amazing job with the dialogue. Your descriptions were clear and your writing kept the story flowing and easily captured my interest to the end. Well done!

[Aslynn]

Thank you, Dara!

[Lorry]

A fine tale and one so wonderfully weaved, that anyone reading it could follow and feel the fear of such a meeting and all that had gone before it.
I'd like to see your story expanded a little more and hear both father and daughters sides of what they thought before meeting each other, but I do think the original stories length could have a bit more to it and can easily see this being amended into a more fuller story over time.
But for a first story it is pretty impressive.
My advice would be to keep going back and looking at it and see where the thoughts take you.
Really enjoyed this. Well done.

[Aslynn]

Thank you so much Lorry, I appreciate that so much. Yes, I had thought about expanding it, but never knew how. Now, considering both sides of the story and what they thought prior to the meeting, it goes give a wide berth! Thank you for that :-) Do you think it would be more along the lines of a longer short story, or something like a novella? (Can you tell how new to fiction writing I am?? haha!)

[emmajoygreen]

Your story moves along both in descriptions of emotions, place and the conversation when it slowly introduced itself via your skill. In spite of three or four long paragraphs which might have been broken up, the dialogue perhaps being added separately from its surrounding prose. But the information given only added to the tale and you did that very smoothly.

You really are a very imaginative budding story teller and should soon gather a group of similar minded fans and friends. There might be a prose group you could join which would give you an almost immediate comfortable set of eager readers.

Take care of yourself. Am looking forward to your next story... soon!

[Aslynn]

Thank you for the critique and encouragement! I wondered about the paragraph length, and swallowing up the dialogue with it, so your comments will be taken to heart. Hopefully, I can start to learn how to bring them together without actually "bringing them together" lol. If that makes sense. Thank you so much! I'm looking forward to writing more too :-)

[emmajoygreen]

Go for it: you have everything needed to do so.. brain, imagination and enthusiasm!

[Aslynn]

Good point! And so I shall :-) Thank you again!

[emmajoygreen]

Called in to read your superb story again... this excerpt shows how fine a writer you are..

'.. He was supposed to be some mystical man who never knew she existed and would be either vehemently opposed to her presence and cast her away forever or would take her in with sweeping, loving arms, erasing all the years she’d spent being fatherless. This man, gray and worn and weary, sitting in front of a tiny fireplace, was not one of the characters in the play of her thoughts. And because of that, she didn’t know what to say. So she blurted out the one thought flitting most vehemently at the edges of her heart. “Why did you leave me, then?”