Rosebud Cabin
an excerpt

'We should've gone to Oahu.' Angela thought - not for the first time -, as they walked even deeper into the woods. The mid-December winter had been a threat of non-stop raining, and though the drizzling had finally ceased, the freezing air was taking its turn to torture the wandering couple.

"Anything yet?" Joe asked, turning his head to glance at this wife. His coat was soaked, as was the scrap of cloth he used as makeshift bandage is his right hand. The small leaves that somehow managed to install there prickled maddeningly.

"No, nothing." she sighed, moving her cellphone around an imaginary circle, trying catch at a least a single bar on her signal status spot on the phone screen. "It's these damn trees! They keep blocking the signal."

"Well, then turn it off. We'll need its battery fully charged." he replied. "We'll reach open space soon, so you can try again."

"Oh, and you say that based on your vast knowledge in Scottish Geography, right?" Angela taunted, stuffing the plastic device inside her pocket. It was so cold, she could swear her fingertips were about to fall off.

Joe thought of dozens of harsh sentences that could've followed her annoying teasing. Things like 'I dont see you coming up with any better ideas', or 'I'm just trying to be positive, as opposite to being an annoying complaining bitch'; instead, he simply closed his eyes and inhaled deeply - not the smartest move, though; the cold air burned the insides of his nostrils. "Angela, please. This isn't the time to be difficult."

"Me?! Being difficult?" the woman shot back, speeding up the pace to catch up with her husband. "God forbid it, honey!" He clenched his jaw, and rolled his eyes. Nope. No matter how hard she tried, he wouldn't give in. A fight was the last thing they needed. "If I recall, I was the one saying that this was a terrible idea! I told you we should've stayed at the hotel because of the rain, but no! We couldn't stay in, because - afterall -, this is Scotland, and we had to hit the Whiskey Road!

"That's right. Blame it on me. That's gonna solve everything. Listen," Joe leaned in closer, placing two fingers to his lips, mocking a request for silence. "I can actually hear the moving cars on the approaching road." he said. Angela settled for glaring at him. "I know this sucks, but you gotta trust me. I know what I'm doing. I saw it on the Man versus Wild."

"The show?" she asked, trying her best not to sound irritated. Not that it helped, because Joe knew all-too-well that when she tucked one of her red strays behind her ear, it basically meant Angela was occuppying her hands to keep from strangling the causer of her annoyance.

"It's not a Tv Show. It's a documentary." He explained, to which she raised one of her perfectly shaped brows. "A weekly documentary, if you will."

"Meaning: a Tv Show." Angela corrected, crossing her arms.

"Honey, American Idol is a tv show. Man versus Wild is a guideline to survival."

She sighed. "It's cute, J, really. But I'm starving, and my feet are sore." The woman ran a hand over her face. "I can't stand walking anymore."

"We could sit here and wait for the helicopters," he suggested, caressing her cheeck with his index finger. "but then we'd miss the exciting opportunity to find a road and any human activity besides ours." She smiled softly, exhaustion getting the best of her. "Come on." he said as he captured one of her hands in his. "we have to head North."

They continued to walk for several hours. The soil was coated in moss, and every few miles there were hidden holes that caused them to stumble and curse. By the time the sky began to darken, they still had come no closer to leaving the woods.

"Did the TV show guy teach you how to find food in foodless places?" Angela asked, looking around wide field they stood in. She had tried calling Emergency again, but it turned the trees weren't the only ones blocking the signal; the huge rocks that composed the very mountain they were lost at also contributed to nullify her cell phone.

“Actually,” Joe distractedly replied, as he scanned the grass in search of small sticks. “He did mention something about hunting rabbits.” He kicked a small rock just to entertain himself. The landscape surrounding them was the most beautiful sight he’s ever had in his life. Ironic, it seemed, that he’d trade that amazing view for the ear-piercing prattle of the salesmen and the horn-blowing drivers in the 5th Av. in a split second, had the opportunity been offered to him.

Angela chewed at her bottom lip, considering their options. She had a sinking feeling they’d end up spending the night in those woods, and the mere thought scared her to death. It was unlikely that the mountains held any large beasts, but if there were coyotes nearby to chase rabbits – as Joe had pointed out when he disgustedly picked up samples of the animal’s feces to check for any traces of rabbit reminiscents –, then they would probably return by nighttime to claim their territory.

“Angie, could you give me a hand, here?” Joe called out; breaking some of the sticks he’d collected. His wife stared at him, the uncontrollable shivering leading her to press her jacket even tighter to her body. “Could get us some Betula rinds?” Her brows knitted together. He sighed at her confusion. “Betula. As in, the tree. Its rinds contain natural oils that help to start a fire.”

Angela shrugged. “Sure. What do they look like?”

“Silver-like.” He said, as if that was the best description of an unseen tree. She shook her head and marched up to the woods. She’d grab whatever rind she saw first.

“So. How’s that supposed to work?” The redheaded woman asked, as she tried to relax her tired muscles, leaning in her husband’s embrace. Who knew it’d actually work? After the third time she came back from the tree-filled field – that time, with the right kind of tree rind –, Joe managed to start a fire with nothing more than a couple of rocks, lots of dry grass and Betula rinds’ natural oils.

“Well,” he whispered, moving some strands of her away from her face. “We wait. By morning, those rabbit traps I’ve put up-“

“With just sticks and your shoe laces” She added, a smile creeping the corners of mouth.

“Exactly. With just sticks and my shoe laces” he repeated, if anything, just to humor her. “Those traps will have – hopefully – strangled one of the furry little bastards, and we’ll have breakfast.” He smiled.

“Ooh. Impressive.” She conceded. “Did you learn that from your weekly documentary?”

“Nope.” He proudly admitted. “From a survival TV show on Discovery Channel.”

She playfully pinched his arm, but was careful to kiss the spot where his jaw met his neck. Joe smiled softly, and intertwined his fingers with hers. He looked up at the sky, trying to set his mind at softer thoughts – despite what he’d been assuring Angela all day long, he had no clue what he was doing, and the growing fear that those woods would become their grave made butterflies swim in his stomach.
Living in New York, they weren’t really used to paying the sky as much attention as the movies and songs implied they should. Unless an unpredicted – and unwanted – storm broke, Joe never lifted his gaze to contemplate clouds or stars. Which was why the dark blue canvas above him, tinged with thousands of shining spots, mesmerized him so intensely. Despite their unfortunate experience, the sight of their first starry night in the mountains was the one memory Joe held onto, so many other nights after that remarkable first trip to Europe.