She Would Awaken the Next Dawn

The floor creaked under her before she moved, like the old boards could feel her shifting into lucidity. Pale blue light seeped through the cracks in the shutters, just enough to say the world hadn’t ended in the night. Lena sat up, slowly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The mattress gave a tired sigh, and the wood beneath her groaned like it had something to say.

She ignored it.

The familiar bite of morning air hit her as she crossed the room barefoot, the worn planks feeling cold and smooth under her soles. Over by the dresser, her fingers brushed against the edge of the drawer, but her eyes caught on the locket. The locket sat the same way it always had. Its shine was long gone, tarnished by the years and dust. She didn’t touch it anymore; didn’t need to. She knew what was in it.

One side held a photograph, with a crease down the middle that nearly split the figure’s face in two. The other contained a curl of hair tied with a ribbon no brighter than ashes now. Used to be she’d open it every night, hold it in her hands like it might warm her soul. Press the hair to her face like it’d spark her memories. So it stayed tucked away, like neither of them could stand the sight of each other. She pulled her clothes from the drawer, the scent of smoke still clinging to them. Her coat hung by the door, already waiting. She shrugged into it with one smooth motion, her breath fogging in the cool air. The hunger gnawed in her stomach.

She ignored it.

Lena stepped out into the main room, where the low light of rising dawn filtered through the windows. In the corner, by the window, a table waited with two mismatched chairs. Only one was ever used, the other was a quiet companion in the morning. The legs of the chairs were scarred from a time where her dog restless jaws. Pepper had been just a pup then, tiny teeth and clumsy paws. She’d yelled at her for it once, sharp and sudden. It took more time than she’d care to admit to get the pup to trust her again, but it grew back through tossed scraps and shared silences.

She settled into the creak and slight rock of her chair, the wood was warped, one leg shorter than it used to be. Time had done that, or maybe the cold. Beside her, she heard the soft click of claws on wood. Pepper nuzzled at her knees and whined, like she also remembered that time not-so-fondly. She gave a quick scratch behind a mottled ear. Lena bent over and began to lace up her boots, adjusting to the quiet rhythm of the day. When she finally rose and reached the door, her eyes lingered on the second set of boots. They hadn’t moved in years. She never kicked them aside, never picked them up either.

She ignored them.

The rifle came last. It leaned against the doorframe like a trusted friend who never asked too many questions. She reached for it like she had a hundred times before. The wood was smooth where her palm had worn it down, the strap stiff with age. She slung it over her shoulder, the leather creaking. Pepper circled her feet once, then fell in beside her, nose pointed toward the door like she already knew the way. Lena stepped out, boots finding the frost-slick porch, rifle at her back, her breath curling in the cold.

The woods stretched out wide and quiet before them, no sun yet, just the silver hush of the not-quite-day. The frost bit at her boots as she followed the narrow trail northward, boots whispering over old pine needles and the brittle skin of half-frozen mud. Pepper padded ahead, nose low, breath misting in the morning air.

She paused at the first snare. Empty. Just a slack loop of wire and a dusting of kicked-up earth where something had been, but wasn't anymore. She checked the second, then a third. Nothing. Not so much as a tuft of fur. Further up the trail, just where it began to bend, she found a sign. Pepper glanced back at her, tail wagging. Lena crouched and studied the imprints before her, fresh hoofprints that hadn’t been covered with frost. Lena didn’t speak, but let out a quick whistle to Pepper, who came trotting back towards her. She unslung her bolt-action, careful and slow, and began to move steadily off the trail. She could see the signs of disturbed underbrush and furthering prints. She could see a flash of brown between the trees as her measured steps continued through brambles and dew-slick leaves. Pepper remained close at her side. A few birds startled and flew off a low branch, leaving them in a silence that didn’t quite sit right but she chose to ignore it. Then she saw it –

The flick of a white tail, the deer.

Lena crouched carefully and eased her rifle up. Taking aim, her eyes squinted and her breath held before she squeezed the trigger.

Click

The gun jammed. The cold metal was stubborn and useless in her hands. The deer bolted. Lena let out a heavy sigh laden with discontent. “Damn it,” she muttered, low and sharp. She glanced at the rifle, about to check the chamber with her cold fingers, but something in her gut twisted, not just from the shot lost, but from something else. Pepper let out a quiet growl, low and uncertain. Her ears were back. Eyes locked on something Lena couldn’t see just yet. The trees were too quiet and the forest held its breath.

The leaves stirred, not from wind or deer, but something heavier, something more deliberate in its movement. It slowly pushed through the undergrowth, careful as a creeping thought. Lena’s eyes scanned the treeline. Between two cedar trunks, low to the ground, tan and gold. The cougar crouched, tail twitching once in the leaves. Its eyes locked with hers through the brush, amber, like hardened sap left in the sun.

It didn’t flinch. Didn’t run.

Just watched.

Her stomach sank, the gun jammed on the damn deer and the silence pressed against her hammering heart. Pepper barked, sudden and sharp, stepping forward before Lena could stop her. The cougar’s ears pinned back. Pepper lunged with a vicious bark, her paws pounding the earth as she tore through the brush toward the cougar. It reacted in an instant, its golden eyes narrowing, muscles coiling as it prepared to strike.

She cursed. Panic made her jaw go numb. Lena’s hands were shaking, her mind scrambling to catch up with the chaos unfolding in front of her. She tried to steady herself, but it was hard with Pepper yelping, her body a tangle of fur and blood beneath the cougar’s claws.

The gun was still clutched in her hands. She yanked the bolt back with a quick snap, trying to cycle it like she’d done a hundred times before, but the action felt stiff, like it was resisting her. The rifle clicked and clattered, "Come on," she muttered, fingers slick with sweat now as she pulled the bolt back with a hard desperation. She ripped the chamber open, checked for the round stuck inside, and managed to flick it clear, the brass casing clattering onto the ground beneath her.

Her breathing was rapid, she wanted to tear her eyes towards Pepper but she knew she had more rounds in the chamber than seconds. She slammed the bolt forward, locking it into place with a solid thud, and quickly aimed. Pepper whimpered beneath the weight of the animal, her body writhing in a desperate attempt to escape the claws that raked through her fur. Lena’s hands steadied for just long enough she could pull the trigger –

CRACK

The bullet tore through the cougar, it let out a blood-curdling scream as it staggered, its claws slipping from Pepper’s fur as it swayed. Lena’s breath caught in her throat as she pulled the bolt and aimed once more, the rifle’s shot split the air again –

CRACK

The cougar collapsed, its body crumpling to the forest floor in a heap. Lena stood there, her rifle still raised, her hands shaking violently as the last echoes of the shot faded into the distance. Lena’s legs felt unsteady as she rushed over to where Pepper lay sprawled on her side, body trembling with ragged breaths. The blood soaked through her fur, staining the dirt beneath her, the fresh scent of it mingling with the smells of the forest air.

“Pepper,” Lena whispered, kneeling beside her, the panic rising in her chest like a tidal wave. She reached for the dog, her fingers brushing over the fur, the warm stickiness of the blood making her stomach turn. The dog’s eyes were wide, glassy with pain, but she blinked up at Lena, her chest heaving with each breath. Low breathy whimpers slipped from her throat.

“Hang on, girl.” She quickly checked over Pepper’s body, her hands moving with urgency, feeling for any obvious wounds. The cougar’s claws had raked across her ribs, deep and jagged, and there was a gash on her hind leg. Lena gripped the dog’s side gently, lifting her slowly. Pepper let out another low whimper as Lena adjusted her grip, but she didn’t protest, couldn't. As Lena ran, the woods blurred around her, the warm wet feeling of blood trailing her arms, and her legs were burning from running with the weight of Pepper in her arms. The only thing that mattered was getting back to the cabin, getting inside.

When she finally reached the cabin, she didn’t pause and opened the door with a single, urgent motion, and she rushed inside. She set the dog gently down on the floor near the basin, her fingers trembling as she reached for the water and a rag. Lena soaked the cloth, squeezing out the excess before she gently pressed it to Pepper’s bloody side. The dog whimpered again but stayed still, her breathing shallow and pained.

Lena worked quickly, washing the wounds the best she could, the cool water running over the gashes. She left for a second, running to her room and tearing the sheets from her bed. At Pepper’s side, she tore the fabric and wrapped the strips of cloth around the wounds as tightly as she felt she could. Pepper lay there, breathing slower now, her sides rising and falling with labored effort. The makeshift bandages around her ribs were ragged, not as tight as they should be.

As Lena’s own breathing slowed, she saw the gentle streaks of dawn pushing their way through the shutters. Lena’s hand moved gently, almost hesitantly, to Pepper’s head, resting her palm on the dog’s fur, her fingers trembling. The warmth of Pepper’s skin under her touch was reassuring, grounding her. “You’re gonna be alright, Pepper,” Lena murmured, the words felt hollow, but she said them anyway. She wanted to believe them. Pepper’s ears twitched slightly, and her eyes flickered open for a moment before shutting once more to rest.

She would awaken the next dawn.