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I collected my satchel, bow and quiver and made my way out of the camp. I looked along the ground outside, to check for any unexpected foot traffic, but was relieved to see none. Thankfully, the area the rocks were in did not leave tracks, you could only see them at the perimeter where the forest began. This helped me hide the location of my camp, as there were no tracks to lead anyone to it. I glanced up at the sky and saw that I had slept later than I had intended as it was already past midday.I made my way into the forest and began checking my traps. Still nothing, but that was fine, I had other plans to deal with that. I changed the bait and returned to camp to return my satchel and collect a few things.I got rope, as well as two of my leather covers ... they would come in handy. I made sure I had my knife, as well as twine, a bit of bread and my water flask. Once I was sure I had everything I would need, I made my way out and headed west from the rocks this time.I figured the. Did I want to? Well, yeah, actually. I felt the start of a tingle. I looked over her shoulder at Ryan."What about you?"He grinned."I really want you to come, Chloe." Ha ha, Ryan. Very subtle."I looked at Sylvia again. The tingle I felt was a little stronger."You sure, sweetie?"She kissed me."You bet, Chloe." OK. When are you leaving?" After lunch, OK?" You bet."This time it rained all the way up to the cabin. No sunning on the rocks, topless or not. I shivered when Sylvia opened the cabin door and I stepped inside. No way I was taking off my clothes this time."Chloe, help me bring in some wood, will you?"I followed Ryan around to the woodshed. It was freezing and by my third trip I was soaking wet, even with my rain parka. The good news was that we now had enough wood inside to go through the night, if we wanted to.An hour later, things were looking up. Ryan's fire crackled, my dry clothes were soft against my skin, I'd piled our stuff in the corner, and the stew Sylvia was heating.
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The rest of the room is comprised of a large bookshelf and multiple modern impressionist paintings hang from the walls. I scan the room to look for Tristan and my eyes cast over to the end of the desk. There he is, standing on his lonesome looking out the glass window, his distracting image reflecting off the black transparent screen. I close the door quietly and he turns around immediately, almost expecting me at that exact moment. He is in his afterhours work attire, an unbuttoned white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, no longer crisp due to a long day, and tailored navy slacks. His dark tousled hair is dishevelled and I can see a semblance of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. ‘Hey, you wanted to see me?’ I ask, putting my bags down on the floor right by the door. ‘So today is your last day here,’ he says it like a rhetorical question, his mouth forming a harsh grimace. ‘Yep, clearly you were busy with work up here?’ I say softly, trying to avoid his intense gaze. A muscle.

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