literature

Redwood Dawn (Beginning Teaser)

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It burned. She could feel the slow oxidation of her heads' surface wearing on the frozen stump. The axe stood firmly wedged deep into the wood of this once-great oak as snow built up around her in the early hours of the day. Light was just beginning to form in the field though the sun had not yet appeared above the horizon as heavy, wet snow rained down. It was quiet still, as though the snow itself had muffled all sounds of life in these morning hours. A thick blanket covered everything. The axe was awake in the bitter cold and she could feel the wood around her decay as she did, unlike the great curved handle that pointed in the same easterly direction as always.

From her perch on the point of the ridge, this magnificent axe could see for miles, all the way to the frozen lake that pooled in the distance, many ridges away. Glorious evergreens rippled across the valley below, interrupting the gray and bare deciduous breeds that formed this regions' wilderness. They were beautiful in the summer, she thought to herself, even if they did block her view of the lake, but in the winter it was the evergreens that she adored. Though, that was not the only thing she adored. No, there was something she longed for even more at every minute of every day, and it was almost time. She reached out vicariously through the tendrils of the roots of her chair. Such was her way of peering behind her, sensing with a living pulse, as if she knew that her longing would end in that very moment.

As the snow floated swiftly down, a creak pierced the silence as a cabin door opened and the crunching of boots could be felt through the ground. The axe smiled inside to herself as she reached out with her soul for her lover as he strode forward. Seamus. Her creator, her sharpener, her master. If axes had hearts, she believed, hers would belong to him forever.

Seamus stopped an arms breadth away, reaching out his scarred hand to grab the axe's handle. His knuckles cracked as his fingers wrapped tightly around the leather straps that weaved around the handle. As he gripped the handle tighter, ice broke from the bindings and he shifted his weight, digging his heels in and bending his knees to lift the axe from out her perch. Seamus bent over as the blade came loose and fell softly on his shoulder to pick up a log that had yet to be split. He set this piece of wood upon the stump before gripping the axe with both hand and sweeping the snow off the stump with his foot. The middle-aged man arched his back, despite the complaints it gave him, and swung the axe down with a large crack! The axe bit down all the way to the great oak stump, splitting the log in two. He pushed the pieces off the stump and onto the ground where they landed with a soft thump. He repeated this process, working up to a steady rhythm.

The sun began to rise slowly and he watched it while Seamus worked, splitting logs as his pile shifted. This was his ritual every morning, rain or shine, blizzard or calm. It was cold up in these hills and he told himself he had to maintain a fire. Crack! Fire needed wood. Thump! Wood had to be cut into logs. Crack! Logs to be split. Thump! This pattern of thought and work repeated itself until the pile to his right of freshly cut lumber had dwindled into a pile on his left and the great flaming orb had completely cleared the trees. Though the sun was now risen, the snow still did not let up. "It will be an interesting day in the woods this day." Seamus thought as he finished. He stood straight up and lifted the axe straight into the air with one arm, letting it fall in an arc to it's resting place in the stump, fresh snow whipping into the air around it.

Just then, some movement caught his eye along the treeline as the wind picked up. Seamus looked in that direction and across the field. There, watching him, was a large grey wolf. Seamus's hand never left his axe and he tightened his grip, ready for anything. The wolf stood perfectly still, his long hair blowing in the breeze. That must have been what caught his attention. The snow was deep, and the wolf looked even larger as it stood on top of the powder majestically. Seamus's eyes flicked from the wolf to his cabin door and back again, slightly nervous. He had left his bow in there, foolishly. He could make a dash for it, but the wolf's distance was the same distance from his door and would overcome him quickly. It was made for this snow. Seamus, on the other hand, not so much.

He rolled his fingers on the cold leather, ensuring his grip was right as he shifted his weight again, his heel biting into the snow. The snow rolled as his foot went back and fell around his leg. The wolf stared at him, motionlessly for several more minutes in this stand off. It really was a beautiful animal. Grey with some small black streaks in it's mane. The wolf shook its coat, ice and snow flicking in every direction, and turned away from Seamus before trotting down the other side of the ridge, out of view.
He stood back up and picked up the split wood in his large, bearlike arms before walking back to his cabin. Seamus kicked the bottom of the door frame, knocking the snow off of his boots as he opened it and stepped inside. Before going to close the door, he looked over his shoulder at the wild around his home. He shuddered, his mind still on the encounter with the wolf, and shut the door, locking in the little heat that was left.
The new book I've been working on. Here's a glimpse.
© 2012 - 2024 NeoKeth
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