Cedar sits at the table surrounded by pails of apples. With so many, the work will take time. She has been spending more time at the cabin than usual, adding color to her maps with Grandma’s paints. She reaches for another apple, trying to work quick. Perhaps she will have time to go to the village today, now that her maps are finished.
Grandma rises from her mattress. She moves as though the air is made up of mud and she is wading through it.
By the time Cedar greets her, Grandma’s voice is as chipper as ever. She smiles, but Cedar has the feeling that not everything is as Grandma tries to make it appear.
As Grandma sinks into her chair near the window, Cedar asks, “What’s on your mind, Grandma?”
“I am thinking of your mother.”
“What about her?”
“I am trying to glean some insight,” Grandma replies, but she says nothing else for several moments, and Cedar resumes her work.
“Your mother always danced. She rarely walked. She would leave the house to collect firewood, dancing with twirls, arms outstretched as though embracing the world. When her arms were too full, her feet did twice the dancing.” Grandma laughs.
Cedar holds the paring knife, not moving an inch. She has never heard Grandma speak of Lavender’s love of music in this way.
“But the mountains weren’t enough to satisfy her restless heart. She heard another kind of music, and having danced every square inch of the mountains, she danced away, to the south where I swore to never return,” Grandma says.
Cedar feels a chill run through her own body. She releases the knife and brings her hands to her arms, rubbing them to warm herself.
“She was so obstinate. She did now know what she was getting herself into. It wasn’t until I came north that I was able to see life for what it is supposed to be. I had hoped she could learn from my own experience, I had hoped to spare her the pain and disappointment I had suffered myself. For so long, I could not understand why I had come north if I had not been able to impart the same wisdom to my daughter. I could not understand how it should be right that I should lose her.” Grandma raises her head and looks at Cedar. The strong, resilient nature Grandma is known for pierces easily through Cedar’s uncertainties. “And then you were brought to me. Lavender knew, in the end, that this was a haven. She died to bring you north.”
It always stings when Grandma reminds her of this. Something deep inside her tries to rebel, to find words to express the feeling, but words fail her.
“You look like her.” Grandma turns to look out the window. “You have your mother’s grace too. Yet you are more restrained. You are more careful. Here, Cedar, you differ from her. You have a wisdom she lacked. The wisdom to listen to your elders, and the wisdom to stay.”
Cedar knows Grandma means to compliment her, but the words grate.
Grandma reaches for her book and silently reads. Soon, the only sound in the cabin is the work of Cedar’s knife and the turning of Grandma’s pages. It is early afternoon before Cedar finishes her work and cleans up the table.
“Chores are done, Grandma.” Cedar collects her things and stashes them into her satchel.
“Thank you, my dear. You work so quickly. Think of how much you could do in a day if you spent the whole of it in productivity.”
Cedar stops to look at Grandma.
“I heard talk that you are spending a lot of time with a young man from the south,” Grandma says.
Cedar’s body stiffens.
“Many of us rely on the business these tourists bring to us, we ought to be polite. But Cedar, you have taken this too far. He does not know your world, and you certainly do not know his.”
Cedar feels as though she might be sick.
“I am sure you did not realize how carried away you have been. We are lucky the weather is turning soon. I trust that you will take care to avoid seeing him while he remains here.”
Cedar turns away for a moment to compose herself. When she faces Grandma again, she masks her emotions so well that she believes for herself what Grandma has said. “Yes, Grandma.”
——————————————–
CEDAR HEAVES THE CANOE over her head and takes a moment to catch her balance. The last time she had lifted her beloved canoe was months ago in the early days of the summer. The memory of that day is hazy, and it is strange to realize how seldom she has paddled. She takes determined steps down the path toward Lake Dolphin.
Orange and yellow leaves are interspersed among the mostly green summer trees, and a few lay scattered beneath her feet. A slight chill, carrying a reminder of the winter ahead, snakes its way through her coat and skin and into her bones.
She covers the miles from the cabin to the lake at a slow, methodical pace. A while into the walk, she hears someone come up from behind. The path is too narrow for her to turn, but a voice answers her curiosity.
“Cedar, can I help?”
Without waiting for a reply, Ash lifts the canoe from her shoulders and repositions it so he is at the rear and Cedar holds the bow of the boat comfortably above her. Her mouth is dry. She is torn between her impulse to obey Grandma and her own wishes.
“We’ve been packing. We leave in a few days,” Ash says. Cedar misses a step, but Ash’s steady hold on the boat saves her from stumbling. They walk for some time in silence.
A chickadee sings its song, and Ash mimics the bird.
“Strange, isn’t it? Music is everywhere. What will King Marcus do about the birds?” Ash says.
“Maybe he hasn’t thought of them yet,” Cedar says.
“Hmm maybe. Their song doesn’t seem to satisfy you. Have you given any more thought to coming south?”
Cedar is saved from answering by the approach of someone on the path ahead. He waves, and Cedar recognizes Ash’s brother.
“What does he want?” Ash mutters. Cedar looks back at him, a difficult maneuver when holding a boat above your head. He is scowling, his brows lowered and drawn tightly together.
“Imagine seeing you two here.” James greets them with a too enthusiastic smile and stops on the side of the path.
“I was just about to tell Ash goodbye. You won’t have to walk back to camp alone now.” Cedar repositions herself under the center of the canoe, tilting the back out of Ash’s startled hands and moving forward several steps before allowing the back to tilt down again.
“I’ll come see you tomorrow,” Ash says, but Cedar does not turn around.
James is speaking to Ash. Cedar walks too quickly on the curving trail to hear what about.
A short time later, she lowers her boat into the lake, short of breath from her hurried pace. It takes her longer than usual to ready herself.
She jumps into the boat and then realizes she left her paddle out of reach on the dock. She moves out of the boat and holds onto the edge while stretching to grasp her canoe.
Once back in the canoe, she takes the first pull of water with her paddle. The usual peace is elusive. With each dip of her paddle, her restlessness builds rather than dissipates. She finds herself reflecting on the summer.
She had dedicated most of her time to redrawing her maps using Grandma’s paper and paints. They are both satisfied with the results, though Grandma’s words of praise leave Cedar unaffected. The project had been Grandma’s idea, and while Cedar is proud of her work, her heart has not been in it, and praise of it means little to her. She had handed Grandma the last map yesterday. The more experienced lady will bind them into a book.
The ache that had begun after speaking with Grandma continues to grow. Cedar is grateful that it took her so long to become aware of her friendship with Ash. How can she explain this to him in a way that will make sense? She will see him tomorrow, likely for the last time.
Goodbye is for the best. Even had he been able to stay, it has become clear that their friendship has no place in this northern world. Yet the inevitable end hangs over her, and the thought of goodbye reminds her of an earlier loss. Her reasons for keeping herself detached come flooding back.
A raven overhead makes its eerie cry, bringing Samuel’s threats to mind. Something made him keep his distance through the summer, yet she cannot shake the sense of doom that hangs over her. Ash’s presence had distracted her from thinking about what Samuel had said to her in the spring. She has twice more seen him stalking Grandma’s cabin.
She steels herself against the winter ahead and against the fear of the future. The countless days spent idly in Grandma’s house also weigh on her. The white snow and sky always make her forget the colours of summer.
She reaches the island she had visited on her last venture on this lake, months ago now. She had not intended to come here, yet she hauls her boat ashore, and walks over the soggy ground. Her restlessness builds.
Chickadees sing in the trees until an eagle screams above her, circling the island. Cedar yearns to fly. To climb a tree and leap onto the eagle, taking off into the endless sky. Her gaze captured by the sky, she trips over a raised root and onto her hands. The sight of the tree root of a sassafras tree, a scab covering where the surface had been scrapped off with a knife, fills her with a strange hopeful eagerness, but only the feeling lingers. The memory is gone. When she looks up at the tree, she gasps in horror. The tree is dead.
A single word ricochets about in her mind, encapsulating her tumultuous emotions – trapped.
——————————————–
CEDAR SEES ASH’S BROTHER sitting on the side of the road. Her canoe is tied to the dock, and she walks freely. She slows her pace, not taking her eyes off the solitary figure. She does not trust him, yet she does not fear for her safety, and she continues forward. He rises, and brushes the dust off himself, smiling his usual smile of greeting. A polite smile, one that does not reach his eyes. His hand is stretched out as though he wishes to shake hands with her.
“Cedar, I have an offer for you.”
She looks at him curiously but says nothing. He lowers his hand to his side and his next words come out in a torrent.
“I want to buy your maps of the lake islands. I believe they will be useful to the…they will bring wealth to your village, and I am in a position to offer you a lot of money.” He stands stiffly and waits for her reply.
Cedar looks at the ground. He knows about her maps. The thought of what this could do for her materializes. She can use the money from her maps to go south. How much are they worth? Would it be enough to keep her sheltered and fed in the city? Just as quickly an image of Grandma flashes in her mind. How will she convince Grandma to let her go?
Ash’s brother wants to buy her maps. Did Ash tell James? What was it that Ash had said his brother was here for? Her suspicion’s fully awake as she connects the memories of Ash’s words and overheard conversation.
“What do you want them for?” she asks.
James cannot hide the flush that begins at the base of his neck. He opens his mouth to speak, then purses his lips, as though thinking over his words.
“They are not for sale.” She turns away and flees into the woods. She takes paths familiar to her but impossible for a stranger to the wood to follow. The trees that surround her seem hostile, as though blaming her for the harm her maps could bring to them.
Clouds gather above her, and the last warmth of the sun is blotted out. The skies release the rain, letting loose a torrent of tears that Cedar has never allowed herself to shed.
She is almost home, and too cold to stay away from the fire. As she reaches for the door, she hears a shriek in the wind. Ignoring the sound, she opens the door.
——————————————–
CEDAR’S MATTRESS, LONG CONFORMED to the shape of her body, betrays her this night. She drifts in and out of sleep until she finally lies awake and massages her bruised body. The shriek she had heard in the wind replays in her mind. She sits up in her bed.
She throws on layers of warm clothes. She pulls old boots on over two layers of socks so worn that the dark tone of her skin peeks through.
Her exit out of the cabin is quiet; there are few items inside to maneuver around. She moves quickly through the woods. Her mind is clear and sharp, and she moves with purpose, knowing what she has to do.
Dark clouds pass away from the moon, letting its brightness bathe the clearing below. A young bear lies covered in netting. He whimpers softly. His mother is nestled beside him. She moans, fatigued by her terrified cries earlier that evening.
Cedar works without fear, and her certainty calms the wild mother bears’ raw and pure instincts. She remains unmoving, watching Cedar untangle from ropes that living being who dictates her every decision. The moment her baby is free, the mother rises and charges into the woods. The younger bear struggles to his feet and follows after her. He fumbles to the right and left, having forgotten how to coordinate his developing limbs, but endeavoring to move at the lightning speed required for survival.
Dark clouds move to obstruct the light that had been given while she worked to free the bear. This black darkness sharpens her other senses. She hears the movement through the woods before she sees the shaky light. She turns toward the sound as a shadowy figure comes hurtling into the clearing and slams her to the ground. Her breath leaves her body, and as she struggles to take in air again, she hears the voice that leaves her numb with dread.
“Cedar,” the voice says.
He swears. She hears him grope through a bag, and in the darkness somehow work dead batteries from an old, low-range flashlight. She starts to squirm away on her back, but a heavy boot shoots out onto her stomach, pressing down with more weight than necessary to pin her small body. Samuel has the instincts of a hunter. His voice is thick with threat. “What did you have to do that for?”
“I’m not the one hunting helpless animals with a freezer full of meat,” she spits out. She shocks herself with her boldness. She has hated Samuel for a year now but has only ever spoken to him with careful politeness.
His laugh follows, slow and callous. The moonlight is released from the cover of clouds, and Cedar shudders at the expression on Samuel’s face.
“I am not hunting them for meat, Cedar. I am being paid to eradicate them.”
“Eradicate?” Cedar’s brain struggles to comprehend his words. “And who is paying you?”
He sneers. “Someone worth a great deal more than your skin and bones.”
Confusion clouds her, but there is no stopping her newfound voice. “He can’t be worth any more than you if his business is pointlessly killing innocent animals.”
Samuel laughs again, but his eyes glow with anger. He looks at her as he would an animal he would like to kill – after he inflicts as much pain as possible.
He presses down harder with his boot, slowly, as if considering something. Cedar struggles, but he is much stronger and larger. She feels like a mouse trying to evade a lion who has her in his grasp.
“You have lofty words considering who you keep company with,” he snarls.
“What do you mean?” she gasps.
“Your friend from the city isn’t who you think he is.” He cannot miss the way his words hit their mark. Her numerous questions about Ash multiply.
Her pain seems to satisfy him, for now, or he remembers something that causes him to stop. He lifts his boot off her body, and stalks into the woods, following the trail of the mother bear and her young charge.
——————————————–
“I FINISHED MY WORK on your map book last night. Will you run off without giving me a moment of your time?”
Cedar is startled, and tightens her grip on the partly open door, letting in the cool dampness that lingers from the night before. She is unused to Grandma being awake early in the morning. She turns to see her holding the newly bound book in her hands. Cedar shuts the door and takes the book from her.
“Thank you. You do beautiful work, Grandma.” She swallows the anger that rises unbidden in her chest.
“I am glad you like it. Are there any changes or additions you would like to make?”
Cedar shakes her head and hands the book back to Grandma.
“Good. I have some business I must see to. Before you go running off, wood needs to be gathered, and the potatoes need to be dug.” Grandma carries the book to the table and wraps it carefully in paper.
“I will have it all done before the sun comes above the trees,” Cedar says. She grabs the shovel and ax from the corner of the cabin and strides to the door.
“Oh my dear, there are more chores than that. You can easily expect to be at work all day. I will leave a written list for you on my desk.” Grandma gestures to the room’s only table. With trammeled spirits, Cedar leaves the tiny cabin for the damp cold of the outdoors.