The wind whispered through the pines as Mara Thorne stepped onto the cabin’s weathered porch, her camera bag slung over one shoulder. Jasper bounded ahead, his tail wagging as he explored their new surroundings. Mara inhaled deeply, the scent of pine and damp earth filling her lungs. This was exactly what she needed - solitude, wilderness, a chance to heal.
She set her bag down and fished the cabin key from her pocket. The lock clicked open, and Mara pushed the heavy wooden door inward. Dust motes danced in the shafts of afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. The cabin was rustic but cozy, with a stone fireplace dominating one wall and simple, sturdy furniture arranged throughout the main room.
Mara allowed herself a small smile. “Well Jasper, looks like we’re home for the next few months.”
The Australian Shepherd woofed softly in response, padding over to sniff at the worn area rug in front of the fireplace.
Mara began the process of settling in, unpacking her camera equipment and the provisions she’d brought. As she worked, her gaze kept drifting to the framed photo propped against her backpack - a smiling man with Mara’s same dark hair and green eyes. Her brother, gone now for nearly six months. The ache in her chest tightened.
She picked up the frame, running her thumb over the glass. “I hope you’d approve of this, Jake,” she murmured. “Getting back to nature, back to what I love. It’s what you always told me to do.”
Jasper nudged her leg, and Mara set the photo down, giving the dog an absent pat. “You’re right, boy. No use dwelling. We’ve got work to do.”
As the afternoon waned, Mara ventured out onto the cabin’s back porch with her camera. The view was breathtaking - towering pines stretching as far as the eye could see, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. In the distance, snow-capped mountains pierced the sky.
Mara raised her camera, framing a shot of a hawk soaring above the treetops. The familiar process of adjusting settings, finding the perfect composition, soothed her. For a moment, she could almost forget why she’d come here, could almost pretend this was just another assignment.
A twig snapped in the underbrush near the porch, startling Mara from her reverie. Jasper’s ears perked up, and he let out a low growl.
“Easy, boy,” Mara murmured, lowering her camera. She peered into the gathering shadows beneath the pines, but saw nothing. Probably just a deer or raccoon, she told herself. Still, an uneasy prickle ran down her spine.
As darkness fell, Mara retreated inside, locking the door behind her. She busied herself making a simple dinner of canned soup and crackers. The cabin’s silence pressed in around her, broken only by the tick of the old wall clock and Jasper’s occasional snuffling as he dozed by the fireplace.
Mara’s phone buzzed, making her jump. She’d almost forgotten she had service out here. A text from her editor flashed on the screen:
“Hope you’re settling in ok. Remember, no pressure on timeframe for the wildlife portfolio. Take care of yourself first. - Diane”
Mara sighed, setting the phone aside without replying. Diane meant well, but Mara was tired of the constant concern, the pitying looks. She just wanted to lose herself in her work, to remember who she was before grief had hollowed her out.
That night, as Mara drifted off to sleep, a haunting cry echoed through the woods. Her eyes snapped open, heart racing. But the sound didn’t come again, and eventually, lulled by Jasper’s steady breathing from his bed on the floor, she slipped into an uneasy slumber.
The next few days fell into a routine. Mara would wake early, hike out to promising spots she’d scouted on her topographical maps, and spend hours waiting for the perfect shot. She captured a family of deer drinking from a crystalline stream, a majestic bull elk bugling in a misty meadow, even a rarely-seen pine marten darting through the underbrush.
But despite the breathtaking scenery and wealth of wildlife, Mara felt… unsettled. Small things kept niggling at her. Food seemed to disappear from her cupboards faster than it should. She’d return to the cabin to find things slightly out of place - a chair moved, a book on a different shelf. Once, she could have sworn she heard footsteps on the porch at night, but when she went to check, flashlight in hand, there was nothing there.
“I’m losing it, Jasper,” she muttered one evening, running a hand through her tangled hair. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
The dog whined softly, resting his head on her knee. Mara scratched behind his ears, grateful for his steady presence.
A sharp knock at the door made them both start. Mara frowned. She wasn’t expecting visitors - that was rather the point of coming out here.
Cautiously, she approached the door, Jasper at her heels. “Who is it?” she called.
“Park ranger,” a deep voice responded. “Just doing a routine check on the cabins in the area. Mind if I come in for a moment?”
Mara hesitated, then unlatched the door. A tall man in a ranger’s uniform stood on the porch, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe. He had a weathered face and kind brown eyes, crinkled at the corners like he smiled often.
“Evening, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “Name’s Cole Everett. Hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all,” Mara replied, stepping back to let him in. “I’m Mara Thorne. This is Jasper.”
The dog sniffed Cole’s boots, then apparently decided he passed muster and trotted back to his bed by the fire.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Cole said, glancing around the cabin. “You settling in alright?”
Mara nodded. “It’s been… peaceful,” she said, only half-lying. “I’m here to work on a wildlife photography project.”
“Ah, that explains the fancy camera gear,” Cole said with a smile. “Well, just wanted to check in, make sure you had everything you need. We’re expecting some nasty weather in the next few days, so make sure you’re stocked up on supplies.”
“I should be fine,” Mara assured him. “I brought plenty of non-perishables.”
Cole nodded, but his expression grew serious. “One other thing - we’ve had reports of a mountain lion in the area. Nothing to be alarmed about, but keep your wits about you when you’re out hiking, alright? And don’t leave food outside.”
A chill ran down Mara’s spine. Could that explain the strange noises, the sense of being watched? “I’ll be careful,” she promised.
After Cole left, Mara double-checked the locks on the doors and windows. She told herself she was being paranoid, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
That night, the wind picked up, howling around the eaves of the cabin. Rain lashed against the windows as a storm rolled in from the mountains. Mara tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
A particularly loud gust rattled the shutters, and Mara sat up with a gasp. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw a face peering in through the rain-streaked glass - a young, frightened face. But when she blinked, it was gone.
Mara shook her head, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Get it together,” she muttered. But sleep eluded her for the rest of the night.
The storm raged for three days, confining Mara to the cabin. She tried to work on editing her photos, but found herself distracted, constantly glancing out the windows at the wind-whipped trees.
On the afternoon of the third day, during a brief lull in the rain, Mara decided to venture out to the small shed behind the cabin where she’d stored extra supplies. As she approached, she noticed the padlock hanging open, swinging in the wind.
Frowning, Mara pushed the door open. Her eyes widened. Several cans of food were missing from the shelves, along with a sleeping bag and some old clothes she’d stashed there.
“What the hell?” she breathed.
A noise behind her made Mara whirl around. There, at the edge of the trees, stood a figure. Small, hunched against the wind. As Mara watched, frozen, the figure darted away into the forest.
Without thinking, Mara gave chase. “Hey!” she called. “Wait!”
She plunged into the woods, branches whipping at her face. The figure always stayed just ahead, weaving through the trees with the ease of long familiarity.
Suddenly, Mara’s foot caught on a root and she went sprawling. Pain lanced through her ankle as she tried to stand.
“Damn it,” she hissed. She looked up, but the figure was gone, swallowed by the misty woods.
Limping, Mara made her way back to the cabin. Jasper greeted her with worried whines, licking her hands as she sank onto the couch.
As she elevated her swollen ankle, Mara’s mind raced. There was someone out there, someone who had been stealing her supplies. But who? And why?
The storm picked up again overnight, worse than before. Mara woke to the crash of a tree falling nearby. She hobbled to the window, gasping at the scene outside. The wind howled, bending the pines almost double. Debris flew through the air.
Mara fumbled for her phone, but there was no signal. She was cut off.
As the day wore on, Mara’s worry grew. The storm showed no signs of abating. What if the mysterious figure was still out there? They could be hurt, or worse.
Just before dusk, during a brief lessening of the wind, Mara heard it - a faint cry, almost lost in the storm’s roar. She pressed her ear to the window. There it was again, definitely human.
“Oh god,” Mara breathed. She looked down at Jasper. “What do we do, boy?”
The dog whined, pawing at the door.
Mara bit her lip, weighing her options. She couldn’t just leave someone out there to die. Decision made, she grabbed her heavy coat and a flashlight.
“Come on, Jasper,” she said. “Let’s go.”
They ventured out into the maelstrom, Mara leaning heavily on a walking stick to support her injured ankle. The wind nearly knocked her off her feet, rain pelting her face.
“Hello?” she called. “Is anyone there?”
For long minutes, there was no response. Then, so faint she almost missed it: “Help…”
Mara pushed forward, Jasper leading the way. They found the source of the cries in a ravine not far from the cabin. A young girl, no more than fourteen, lay crumpled at the bottom, her leg bent at an unnatural angle.
“It’s okay,” Mara called down to her. “We’re going to get you out of there.”
Getting the girl up the steep, muddy slope was a herculean task. Mara’s ankle screamed in protest, and she was soaked to the bone by the time they reached the top. But finally, with Jasper’s help, she managed to half-carry the girl back to the cabin.
Once inside, Mara helped the girl onto the couch and wrapped her in blankets. In the warm light of the cabin, Mara could see her clearly for the first time. She was thin, with tangled brown hair and wide, frightened eyes. A large bruise mottled one cheek.
“What’s your name?” Mara asked gently, kneeling beside her.
The girl hesitated, then whispered, “Lily.”
“Okay, Lily. I’m Mara. You’re safe now.” Mara’s mind was whirling. This must be the person who’d been stealing her supplies. But why was she out here alone? “Can you tell me what happened? Where are your parents?”
Lily’s lower lip trembled. “I… I ran away,” she admitted. “From my dad. He…” She trailed off, her hand unconsciously touching the bruise on her face.
Mara’s heart clenched. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say any more right now. Let’s get you warmed up and take care of that leg, okay?”
As Mara bustled around, making hot tea and fashioning a splint for Lily’s injured leg, her thoughts raced. What was she going to do? They were cut off from civilization, with no way to call for help. And clearly, Lily needed more than just first aid.
Over the next two days, as the storm slowly abated, Mara coaxed Lily’s story out of her bit by bit. The girl had run away from an abusive home situation nearly a month ago, surviving in the woods by stealing from vacant cabins and campsites.
“I’m sorry I took your stuff,” Lily said, her eyes downcast. “I was just so hungry…”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Mara assured her. “I’m just glad you’re safe now.”
As Lily grew to trust her, Mara found herself opening up as well. She told the girl about her brother, about the accident that had taken him from her.
“That’s why I came out here,” Mara explained. “I thought if I could just focus on my work, I could… I don’t know. Forget, maybe. Or at least stop hurting so much.”
Lily nodded solemnly. “Does it help?” she asked.
Mara considered the question. “You know… I’m not sure it does. But meeting you, helping you - that helps.”
On the third day after the storm, there was a knock at the cabin door. Mara opened it to find Cole Everett on the porch, looking haggard and worried.
“Thank god,” he said. “We’ve been trying to check on all the cabins, make sure everyone weathered the storm okay. You alright, Ms. Thorne?”
Mara nodded. “We’re fine, but…” She hesitated, then made a decision. “There’s someone you need to meet.”
She led Cole into the cabin. The moment he saw Lily on the couch, he froze, the color draining from his face.
“Lily?” he breathed.
The girl’s eyes widened in recognition, then fear. She tried to shrink back into the couch cushions.
Mara looked between them, realization dawning. “Cole… is Lily your daughter?”
The ranger nodded mutely, his eyes never leaving the girl.
Lily’s voice was small, but fierce. “I’m not going back,” she said. “You can’t make me.”
Cole took a shuddering breath. “Lily, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I know… I know I haven’t been a good father. After your mom died, I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. I started drinking, and…” He broke off, running a hand over his face. “I’ve been looking for you for weeks. I was so worried. I’ve sobered up, I swear. I want to make things right.”
Mara’s heart ached for both of them. She knelt beside Lily, taking the girl’s trembling hand in hers. “Lily, you don’t have to decide anything right now. But I promise you, I won’t let anyone hurt you again. Okay?”
Lily nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Over the next few hours, as Mara made coffee and tended to Lily’s leg, father and daughter began the painful process of reconciliation. There were tears, recriminations, and eventually, tentative forgiveness.
“I’d like to try,” Lily said finally. “To come home, I mean. If things will really be different.”
Cole nodded fervently. “They will be, sweetheart. I promise.”
As Cole made arrangements to get Lily proper medical care, Mara found herself blinking back tears of her own. She wandered out onto the porch, needing a moment alone.
The forest was hushed in the storm’s aftermath, branches heavy with raindrops. Mara took a deep breath, feeling something shift inside her. The hollow ache that had driven her out here was still present, but it no longer consumed her. In its place was a warmth, a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in months.
A hand touched her shoulder, and Mara turned to see Cole standing beside her.
“I can’t thank you enough,” he said quietly. “For taking care of her, for… everything.”
Mara shook her head. “I think Lily might have saved me as much as I saved her,” she admitted.
Cole’s eyes crinkled in understanding. “Loss has a way of doing that to a person,” he said. “Makes us forget how to connect, how to live. Sometimes it takes something big to shake us out of it.”
Mara nodded, gazing out at the sun breaking through the clouds. “I came out here to hide,” she said. “To bury myself in work and forget the world. But I think… I think it’s time to rejoin it.”
“Does that mean you’ll be leaving?” Cole asked, a note of something like regret in his voice.
Mara considered the question. “Not right away,” she decided. “I still have a job to finish. But after that… who knows? Maybe I’ll stick around for a while. I hear the wildlife out here is pretty spectacular.”
Cole’s answering smile was warm. “That it is, Ms. Thorne. That it is.”
As they went back inside to Lily, Mara felt a sense of lightness she hadn’t experienced in months. The pines still whispered their secrets, but now, instead of isolation, they spoke of new beginnings, of healing, of hope.