Navigation Menu

[Azrielle]

At the edge of the first acre, which marked the edge of the boundary for the cabin property, I found a round brass tag nailed into a birch tree. Curiously I took a picture of it, before setting my compass bearing to due north once again. I also checked my pedometer. The small line of numbers read precisely sixty nine and one half yards. I was curous now about the brass tag and looked closely at it again. The tag bore nothing more than a series of numbers and three letters and appeared to be quite old. Without anymore thought to it, I began hiking along the due north bearing, but this time some fallen logs and light brush made my hike a little bit harder. I stayed on course and was able to still see the lake to the south when my pedometer clicked to indicate I had hiked another sixty five and one half yards. Curiosity got the better of me at this point, and I checked my compass back bearing. To my surprise, I found another old brass tag nailed to the west face of a tree that fell exactly in line with the first tag, and the marker where I started. Knowing I was one hundred sixty seven centimeters tall. I quickly estimated the distance to be close to a meter off the ground. I took a picture of the second brass tag with numbers and the same three letters.

“F-R-C” I spoke aloud and wondered what the letters meant. Then it hit me like a quick slap in the face.

“Franklin Richard Clearwater” I spoke. But everyone I ever remembered, just called him Dick. On the few rare occasions my Grandmother scolded my Grandfather for spoiling me so badly for being the only granddaughter, his full name came back to me with the sound of her voice.

“Grandfather, you sneaky devil.” I muttered with a giggle.

I fondly remembered the little number games we used to play. That little game was always my favorite time I spent with him and was probably why I always did so well in arithmetic in school. The game was really meant to teach me his coding system, and I remembered the notebook he always kept in the desk, when it wasn't inside his jacket pocket. It was a plain hardcover volume that fit perfectly in the inside pocket of the old jacket I wore. Excitedly, I made a direct hike back to the cabin and the book I was now missing. I now understood completely, the legacy he wanted me to learn, but was too young to understand ten years ago. Knowing exactly where the book was, was not a problem. Keeping my hands from shaking so badly when I opened it was another thing entirely different.

“My Cherish;” I read inside the cover, written in the all too familiar scrawl that was my Grandfather's hand.

“If you are reading this, then my time has passed and I have left you all alone to figure out the clues I have left for you to find. I can only hope the few years of joy you have given me are yours to hold onto. Remember my favorite numbers and how fast you are at adding and subtracting.” I read quickly and felt the tears trying to swallow me whole.

“P.S. – Ration my stash or Stephan will smoke it all.” I read after with a gleam in my eyes.

My Grandfather was a wise man, and he was right. Stephan was smoking all his stash. I held the worn book cover to my chest as a single brass tag clinked onto the floor, bringing me sharply back into the present.

“2-1-U-T-M. 4-5-4-0-B-8-E.” I spoke aloud to myself, reading the tag as I picked it up from the floor of the cabin.

“Where the hell have I seen those numbers before?” I asked myself.

It only took me a moment, and I didn't have to look far as the same numbers were the Universal Traverse Mercator Grid numbers for the map that had been pasted to the wall so many years before.

“Twenty-one, I win. Forty-Five minus Forty equals five. Five plus eight equals thirteen.” I softly spoke to remember his eyes sparkle at me for being so smart.

My first clue would be on the thirteenth tag along the Northing line. Excitedly I rushed back out of the cabin and kept going until I found the thirteenth tag, this one was not nailed to a tree as I expected to find it. This one was tied with wire, neatly spun into a sprial of thirteen turns to the top of an old fencing rod. I added another picture to the twelve tags that preceeded it in the camera's memory card. I also found another spin of wire, as neat as the one holding the brass tag. The tag was in the second hole from the top and the spun wire was in the hole above it. I quickly counted the turns.

“Twenty-one, I win. Twenty five minus thirteen equals twelve.” I rattled like the little girl with twin pigtails, but I became perplexed as there was a piece missing. Then I noticed a single steel hog ring on the seventh hole down from the tag. “Twelve plus seven equals nineteen.”

“Grandfather, I love you.” I wispered into the wind and I set out to find the next five tags.

I had no touble finding them all, and the CLUE tags were mounted on the same steel fencing rod. Inside the camera, I continued to add photographs of each marker tag. In a way it was my way of hiding my grandfather's coding system should anyone besides myself, have even the slightest idea of how to solve it. By mid morning I had traversed the one mile to find the identical pile of stones with the weather vane on top. This weather vane however, was facing the wrong way and seemed to have been done on purpose. What was supposed to be the Northing point was actually facing west.

“Grandfather, you naughty man.” I whispered once again to the wind.

It was pretty simple to figure out when I remembered the upside down and backwards game, which was always another favorite.

“What is north is west, what is west is south, what is south is east and what is east is north.” I spoke softly to myself and remembered what I needed to remember. All along the eastings line, I found each and every tag, though some were pretty difficult to find as ten years of brush and growth did their very best to obscure them. But in the end I found them, and to celebrate my small victory, I ate my lunch on a fallen log close to the North-West marker. It was early afternoon and the sound of a motor in the distance really didn't make my heart pound in my chest like it did twelve weeks ago, or ten, or even five. I glanced at my Pedometer and noticed exctly three thousand eight hundred yards. Knowing one mile was one thousand seven hundred sixty yards, I had hiked an additional two hundred eighty yards. Taking into account one hundred and thirty one yards from the second tag back to the cabin and my subsequent return, that left eighteen yards unaccounted for.

“All my dancing around must be throwing off the pedometer” I spoke to the wind, but I could see eighteen yards error being close. But was it? Something was nagging at me about it. For my next leg I would be travelling a line due south. The mile to the lake was clearly visible, but the shore was hidden by the tall trees both around me and those that were near the shore. On this leg I found all twenty five tags with ease. The rocks seemed to have resisted almost everything before I remembered the forest fire that had taken a run through the area.

“Grandfather, you sneaky devil. I remembered what you taught me.” I whispered to the wind gain.

The upside down and backwards game and with the luck of shadows in the pictures I was clearly able to deduce the direction each tag was facing when I reviewed each and every picture. It wasn't the numbers on the tags that were important, but it was the pattern the twenty five tags fell into, and the pattern was the same in both directions. I sat on the South West marker after taking a picture and took a compass shot down the shoreline. There was a single tree that blocked my view and it gave me hope that I might find at least one tag, with the shoreline erosion that stood between the two markers, and oddly what appeared to be one lone tree. I swallowed the remaining contents of my canteen and started my hike along the shore.

By the time I reached the tree, it was very easy to see why it stood alone. It appeared to be part of an old jetty made of rock that had long since been claimed by both the waves and by the forest. The single tree sprouted from the ground and did not rise straight like a lot of the trees, but instead appeared to be gnarled and twisted in some unnatural way. One large branch facing inland had been cut clean near the trunk, but if you didn't know how trees grew, you would have been hard pressed to even notice it. What remained of the stump of the branch was covered over with new bark and a slightly thinner branch that vered off in slightly the wrong direction. Aound the trunk and it was even harder to find was a single brass tag that had been overgrown with bark. If I dared to sink a tree drill into it, if I even had one with me, I would probably find more than ten closely spaced rings around where the tag was partially obsured. With just a little skill with a knife, I scraped away the bark to be able to get a clear picture of the tag.

“… Tag faces the water, the cut branch faces the land. What are you wanting me to remember, Grandfather?” I asked the gentle wind.

There was no answer. For that answer I would have to look into the past. Doing that was something I really didn't want to be doing right now as it still frieghtened me. Though they were infrequent, and becoming more so, I still had nightmares. Nightmares of the things done to me in the night, by a bootleg fueled hunger. Things I still didn't want to remember, but for some reason the monster within tried to remind me of their existence.

I sat on the long ago abandoned jetty, and stared across the water of gichigoomie. I recalled the stories of the witch below the waves, and her calls to men of the lake, from her icewater mansion. Equally important was the stories of the lady of the lake, with the wind as her wings, she'd save those whose time had not yet come to pass. Somewhere in between, the dark of the depths and the light raining down upon me, were the answers I needed.

I once again took a look at the pictures in the camera. Then it came to me. Like as I was, with my monster within me, the witch and the lady were the same. They both gave and took in perfect harmony; in balance with the land. Neither could exist without the other. They were the oposite sides of a coin. They were night and day. The were neither, nor were they the same.

“Grandfather, you wicked man.” I giggled.

What I needed to learn was nothing more than I had the strength within me to be be what I needed to be, and wanted to become. The discipline I exerted to have made it this far gave me the resolve to move forward. With my heart beating like a hammer, I got up from my perch upon the old jetty and walked away. The cabin was calling to me to come home.

With only a few more outcroppings along the shoreline, I made surprising great time covering the last half mile back to the cabin. To my horror, I found bobbing slightly in the water was a coast guard zodiak with a pair of outboard engines and a man standing nearby. His Canadian Navy crew dungarees told me more than I wanted to know. Someone had found me. When I rushed into the cabin, there was two people inside and my heart fell faster than an acorn from an oak tree.

[Azrielle]

Chapter 2 – Secret Information

It was near twighlight's last glimmer that I sat at the desk and opened my journal. As part of my survival, at Stephan's insistence I had agreed to write my thoughts, and my hopes, and my experiences of each and everyday since I had escaped the nightmare that was my reality. The aged oil lamp sitting on the desk now had a new wick and a fresh refill of coal oil in it. It would be the only light to which to write my memories and illuminate the cabin that was now my home. Stephan had kept his promise and stopped by every month with some fresh provisions of salt, lard, sugar and flour, and yesterday he even brought me a newspaper.

The story of my Mother's trial as reported, had centered soley upon the domestic violence she received by my Father's hand. Her Lawyer had skillfully convinced a jury that she suffered from Burning Bed Syndrome and was ultimately unfit to stand trial for murder. My hand wavered and hovered over the blank page of my journal as conflicting thoughts crashed and collided in my head. I neither pittied her or felt remorse for what I helped her do. After I had made my tenth escape, I never even gave it much thought.

I finally decided it was time to confront the monster within me and the hormones that were making me into a young woman.

“Thursday, September 6.” I spoke aloud as I wrote the date.

The summer had passed, my solitude and sanctuary was a home that felt safer to me than the house my Grandfather had built with my Uncles and my father. The cabin was filled with happy memories of a little girl with twin braids and her Grandfather that she absolutely adored. But here now was a young woman of sixteen that shared her body with a monster that remained unbridled and unbroken. A monster that used sex as a weapon to break a cycle of abuse.

“Week twelve…” I spoke.

“Has it really been that long?” I asked myself.

“The monster within me tries to break free and sometimes almost succeeds.” I wrote in my own hand.

“I feel the most vulnerable when I lie awake in bed at night as my fingers walk down my skin.” I added.

It was true, oh was it ever true. I was horny all the time, but the monster within me only ever seemed to be able to break out when I was alone in my bed. I would masturbate myself to a climax almost every night. The only exception being when Mother Nature's curse made me feel too dirty to touch myself, and on a few rare occaisions even that didn't stop the monster. In the last twelve weeks the monster had allowed me to soil the sheets several times while my cycle went ahead like a clock. With each twenty eight days passing, my breasts would swell and become too tender to touch, and seemingly remained that way to swell more when my next cycle approached. I no longer had mounds topped with puffy nipples protruding from my chest. I had small globes of rounded flesh, firm and taught that proudly bounced when I walked. The monster was wanting to be fed, but there was only me.

“I thank my lucky stars that Stephan is a gentleman, and that his visits seem to coincide with my cycle.” I wrote.

This was also true. During the height of the summer's heat, I had begun to prance about naked and free. Exactly three times he had approached the cabin while I was naked, and I was quite certain that one of those times the monster had gotten out on me. I'm pretty sure that even the most chaste gentleman would have gotten a full erection, but he never let on about how my musky scented perfume hung thick in the cabin until it was covered with the smell of a freshly lit bowl of taboacco. My being naked didn't even seem to bother him, but it did seem he waited quite a while before getting out of his saddle on his last visit.

Just his presence seemed to give me the self control to keep the monster reined in during the daytime, but it didn't seem to stop my nipples from poking through even the heaviest sweatshirt I had. Finally I conceeded that my nipples where harmless when encased in a padded bra. But in truth, it was a complete case of denial as I caught him more than once staring at my chest.

“Stephan and I had a good laugh when I caught him staring again. Flashing my boobs at him most certainly didn't hurt either.” I wrote.

This was also true. The giggling fit that followed, seemed to help me to force the monster back inside the cage.

“It took a cold water swim for me to finally stop myself from wanting to masturbate.” I added to my journal.

This was definately true. Thank fully, Stephan wasn't looking when I got out of the lake because my nipples could have poked his eye out if I got too close.

“I have a suspicion my mother got through this time in her life with me inside her belly.” I wrote quickly. “Sex is all I seem to think about.”

Writing ths admission did nothing to stop the monster from making my panties wet, but I did manage to send it back to where it belonged.

“Today I found a path that appears to have not been used in some time. I'm not sure where it leads to, but I'm also pretty sure that there is no one else up here.” I wrote.

This was something to keep in mind. This was my Grandfather's land, and now mine. While I didn't mind visitors, squatters and poachers were not people I wanted around. The squatters would just be a nuisance and the poachers, well they were just plain trouble no matter how you tried to look at it.

I pondered the map pasted onto the wall. The map was as much a part of the cabin as I was. The cabin sat precisely on the 1st acre of the parcel on its south east border. Exactly eighty acres west to the next marker and following parallel lines from the lake shore due North from both markers was another pair of identical markers. The markers were old, that much was true, and to be honest I had only ever in my life seen one of the four. It was the survey marker that sprang up from the ground, but in all honesty it was nothing more than a pile of stones about two feet high topped with a brass weather vane. On top of it was the latitude and longitude of its exact location on the map. The four markers were a mile apart. But why did the map on the wall look so big when I now put it into perspective?

“Tomorrow, I've decided I am going to go for a hike to help me clear my mind and set up a trap line for the winter like Grandfather used to have. I know there are still some old rusty traps in the root cellar. Having some furs to stretch and tan will give me something to keep my fingers busy when the Witch calls out to the sailors from her ice water mansion.” I wrote in my journal.

This was something positive, I was getting bored, and that is maybe why my mind always seemed to be preoccupied with sex. By giving myself something else to think about, maybe the monster would finally be kept at bay long enough for the hormones changing my body to finally begin to subside. I began to make a list of provisions that I could carry easily. I also decided that one day would be more than enough to walk from one marker to the next, and still be back at the cabin in time for dinner. I closed my Journal and hid it where only I would find it again; under the false bottom of the cook book drawer in the kitchen, and set about to arrange everything I would need.

My jeans that I had not worn in weeks went right to the top of the list and I even tried them on to make sure they still fit me. They did, but were just a little snug across my backside than I remembered they were. Not only did I now have boobs, I also had hips, which meant I was gaining an attractive figure while losing my Tom-Boy features.

“Damm Hormones” I giggled.

Next thing was a warm shirt, and of course a fully functional matched pair of cotton undershirt and panties. A pair of cotton socks joined the small pile of clothes. Next came a water canteen and a length of rope, followed by my compass, my knife and my belt. A waterproof pack of matches was more than enough, but I added a piece of flint and steel too, just in case. I added a pedometer I found on a shelf next to the desk, just for good measure to see if the markers were in close proximity to the one mile they were supposed to be.

Next to the door was my bow. I had made it from a piece of fallen maple and had finished it with several layers of old bee's wax I found in the cellar. It was strong and very springy which made it perfect, but cutting the piece I wanted from the log, took me a lot of careful thought to drive the spliting wedges at precisely the right spacing to split the wood. My patience was also rewarded with enough straight lengths to make myself two dozen arrow shafts. Only a dozen I finished with my steel arrow heads, and the other dozen I shaped to deadly points.

I was lucky enough to find myself a raven's nest and managed to set a snare. I harvested enough feathers to make fletchings and fed her until her feathers grew back. Stupid bird didn't have enough sense after that to fly way. A small treat of maple sugar is enough to have her perch on my arm long enough to claim it before she would fly off. Birds are stupid, and I still hate bugs, but the Raven likes to eat them, so it's a win-win. I made a perch for her just outside the kitchen window, and she would peck on the new glass window Stephan brought on his second trip. She would always keep me company while I ate my breakfast before she would go and get herself a mouse for her own. On a few rare occasions she even brought me a squirrel. I guess it was her motherly instinct.

By the next morning I was excited to begin my little adventure. I packed myself a lunch consisting of some trail mix of sweet grains, rasins and nuts generously coated with maple syrup in addition to a small block of maple fudge. I added a small covered tin of rabbit stew left over from my last night's dinner and I even remembered a spoon. lastly, I grabbed what was left of the remaining loaf of bread I had baked. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough for a trek to the other three markers. The last thing I decided to take was the small digital camera Stephan had brought for me, as a gift of sorts for the tobacco stashes I kept finding. That man did love a pipe, and I kinda liked it when he would fill the cabin with smoke. It always made me smile and think of happier times.

The sun was slowly starting to break over the treeline when I stepped outside wearing my Grandfather's old hunting jacket with my small backpack over my shoulders, the quiver of arrows strapped to my thigh, my knife on my belt, my boots on my feet. My compass hung around my neck on the sturdy piece of chord it came with. I was ready, but first I wanted to take a picture before I took the first step into my adventure. I wanted to record for posterity that which I had never done before. Before today, the furthest I had ever been away from the cabin into the woods was not more than a couple hundred meters in any direction. The previous nine escape attempts didn't count because I'd been stupid and got caught. I snapped a picture of the small brass plaque on the marker and was careful to include the weathered brass vane on top that included the latitude and longitude. Without so much fanfare, I began walking North with the raven flying above as if keeping watch for me.

[Azrielle]

Chapter 1 – Escape

POSTED!

Enjoy!
Mwah! Az.

[Azrielle]

Stephan opened the door to the cabin, and not unlike the real gentleman he was beneath that scruffy exterior, he held the door open for me. The second best thing I knew to scrub off pine sap was still a bar of soap and cold water. The first was still saddle soap, but such a waste of it. Washing my hands always takes what appears to be forever when you have hair in your face from the gentle breaze wafting through the broken window, but I managed with only a few curses under my breath and one playful swat on my backside. Finding my Grandfather's tobacco stash took me a whole lot less time than that, with it being in the first and last place I looked, inside the false bottom of the desk drawer. I didn't get a swat for it, but instead got a very grateful hug as Stephan filled a bowl from the previously sealed oilskin pouch.

“Ten years old and still fresh.” Stephan noted as he struck his first match. “I never could find it, and its been right under my nose the whole time.”

“That's because you weren't the one who hid it in the first place.” I giggled.

“Nope, better that I didn't find it, or there'd be none left to enjoy today.” Stephan replied with his match having fully lit the bowl.

The rich smell of my Grandfather's pipe tobacco brought with it a flood of happy memories, and an equal amount of sorrow that tears would never give solace. Here in this place, it gave it life once again. Gave me hope that my survival could be gained, if only it was for the amount of time it took for the bowl to be smoked. He sat in what was his chair in the cabin. What was my Grandfather's chair ten years ago, was now mine to take and what was once mine, could be left for the little girl wearing her hair in twin braids. Her ghost had fled to the same place my Grandfather now rested, within the memories that were synonymous with my name. Outside the sound
of the search and rescue helicopters snapped my mind back to the present as brutally as the first time my Father had taken a belt to me for having broken a bottle of his bootleg. The trip into the past became today once again.

“Them search people are not going to give up when your trust fund has a big pile of money still in it.” Stephan spoke while blowing smoke rings into the air.

“Well, I hate to disappoint the leaches, but it can sit in the bank for another two years until I feel like claiming it.” I spat back with venom hidden in my voice.

“With you Mother in jail, and your father waiting to be planted, your cousins are no doubt already trying to find a way to be your guardian.” Stephan spoke aloud while exhaling another ring of smoke.

“Never going to happen.” I mentioned.

With the knowledge that the title deed to everything my Grandfather once owned, it was safely hidden in the one place that even fire couldn't touch it. It was hidden inside an oilskin undeneath the woodstove bricks. I'd made sure it was safely hidden before I had spent my first night of freedom in the cabin. I'd also made sure I had signed my name beneath my Grandfather's as the heir. To have left it blank could spell disaster if anyone should be fortunate enough to discover it's hiding place. Aberdare, and its six hundred forty acres of pristine woodland situated on the North shore of gichigoomie was mine and mine alone. My Father had wanted to sell it once, but had been stopped only because my mother had hidden the title deed so carefully and blatantly refused to give up its location was reflected in the equal number of beatings my father inflicted upon her.

“Good girl, Cherish.” Stephan spoke softly as he ringed but another puff of smoke from the softly glowing bowl.

“I'll make us some dinner, Uncle Stephan.” I said with a smile.

The simple nod of his head told me everything I needed to know. The little girl with twin braids may be long gone, but the young woman standing before him was proof that a Clearwater was now home.

“Ah, where are my manners. No doubt I left them in a pile of shit from Buck and Dollar a ways back on the trail up here.” Stephan spoke aloud to his own disgust.

With his pipe in his teeth, he strode across the single room and took his boots off. He placed them neatly on floor next to the deacon's bench. He then unloaded his colt and hung the holster full of ammo in the belt, on the hook that was for it's use. He just as quickly began opening the pack bags that were previously draped over Dollar's back, and began unloading the pack bags onto the kitchen countertop.

“A gift to the house, Ma'am.” Stephan spoke.

“… and I thank you good, sir.” I responded. “But if that Colt is not locked away where it belongs, you'll be doing extra chores.”

Stephan stowed the unloaded revolver in the cubby over the Deacons Bench. Still inside the same cubby was the matching Colt that was once my Grandfather's. Stephan palmed the antique pistol then unwrapped the oilskin it was swaddled inside of.

“Ten years and still clean as a whistle, ready to be loaded again.” Stephan remarked.

“And it will be another ten years before a bullet ever fills even one cylinder.” I remarked.

“Yes, Ma'am.” Stephan stated with a quick wink.

I bussied myself with lighting a fire in the wood stove and putting on a kettle for tea, filled with stone cold water from the hand pump. It took me surprisingly little time with the tinderbox contents lighting so quickly, it almost burned out befor catching the kindling I had deposited next to it in the firebox. The dry wood wouldn't last anymore than maybe an hour, maybe two at the most, before I'd have to retrieve some more from the wood pile outside the eaves. The bucking sound of helicopter blades, sent my heart racing almost instantly, but it was too late to stop the smoke from signaling someone was in the old cabin.

Stephan stepped outside onto the covered porch as the helicopter circled overhead. He waved his hand as if to invite them to tea, but the helicopter quickly moved off, back to the search pattern kilometers away. My pulse slowly returned to normal, but it took a lot longer with the rush of adrenaline in my viens. I was visibly shaken when Stephan stepped back inside the cabin.

“Not to worry, Cherish. I left my trail plan at the station before I left, and the radio on auto-respond. They won't be coming back here anytime soon. In the mean time, you remember that old root cellar?” Stephan spoke softly.

“Yea, I remember it.” I answered back. I also remembered the bugs. Oh, how I hated bugs.

“The nice thing about that new coat of sap you put on the roof is, it'll bake hot in the sun, and hide you from their heat detectors. Smart thing to have done.” Stephan mentioned with a wink.

“But I didn't do it to camoflage myself.” I quipped back. “… Guess everything has more than one use.”

“Aye, that it does, Cherish.” Stephan continued. “When it gets cold out, you can hide in the root cellar if you need to.”

That much was also true. The only way anyone was going to find me in there was if they had ground penetrating radar, and the helicopters thankfully didn't have that.

“So, we got two days to make me a couple of hiding spots?” I asked.

“Hell, you don't need them when you got me running interference for ya.” Stephan quipped. “So long as you remember how to make your Grandfather's smoke to buy my silence.”

“Its a deal.” I quickly answered. That was one thing I did remember how to make.

“So, Miss Clearwater… what are we going to do with you now?” Stephan pondered.

“Shut up and enjoy your pipe, before I hide the stash again.” I joked with a grin.

“Yes, Ma'am.” Stephan chortled with another puff of smoke filling the cabin.

I really did not have an honest answer to his question. The only answer I could muster to myself was to survive, but in reality I needed to find a way to live. To have Retired Sergeant Stephan Boudry come back into my life was no coincidence. It was as if my Grandfather was watching over me and at long last, answering my prayers.

[Azrielle]

“One more bucket, and that should be enough.” I stated to hear my own voice.

“One more bucket of what?” I heard a voice answer me.

I spun myself about with my hand finding my knife in its sheath. This was now trouble with a capital T. My reaction caught my uninvited visitor completely by surprise, and he held up open hands to show me he meant no harm.

“Sorry if I startled you, Cherish.” He spoke.

I was at a disadvantage and I did not like the feeling. He knew me, but I didn't know him. Before me stood a Ranger, although you wouldn't have known it by his clothes. The Cabin was not more than a few hours by quad, and a few more hours than that on horseback. I surmised it was the latter that had brought him here as I had heard nothing that even resembled the sound of an engine. My heart raced, not knowing if the Ranger was going to report me, or not. I deeply hoped it was not, but that might be asking too much.

“The last time I saw you, you were a wisp of gristle and bones.” He stated. My hand started to relax a little against the handle of my knife, but I neither let go of it, nor unsheathed it either. His face I remembered, his name I could not.

“Your Grandfather had asked me to keep an eye on the place before he passed, but I never thought I'd ever find anyone, let alone you here.” He spoke. His name still escaped me, and he seemed to be noticing my apprehension.

“Hey, Cherish… It's me, Stephan.” He finally introduced himself. “Stephan Boudry… you remember me, don't you?”

The last ten years had been kind to him, but perhaps not as kind as they should have. He still towered over me at one hundred ninety five centimeters, and a little more round in the middle than I remembered, but he still had that brilliant smile and a sparkle in his eyes that told me he was as much at home in the woods as I was.

“You still riding that glue factory?” I answered him back.

I very much doubted he was, as that horse was probably the meanest thing to walk on four hooves, and as equally stupid, except when it came to snakes when that old mare would run in the opposite direction faster than wildfire.

“Nope, had to put her out to pasture after your Grandfather passed.” Stephan answered.

“You know everyone is looking for me, don't you?” I mentioned.

“Gee, good thing I found you instead of them assholes.” Stephan retorted with a wink.

I tried to let my hand slip from my knife handle, but I had such a tight grip on it before I relaxed that I had no choice but to unsheath it. Prying it from the pine sap was not going to be fun either.

“Got any saddle soap?” I asked ardently.

“Of course.” He replied. “Get that thing off your hand before you cut yourself.”

From within the folds of numerous pockets on his old duster, a tin of saddle soap appeared in his hand and he smeared a generous amount of it on my open hand. In less than a minute, my knife was free and my hands were squeeky clean. My knife was back in the sheath before I rubbed out the last of the pine sap and saddle soap onto the ground. It was only then that I gave him a huge hug.

“Hey, don't break an old man's bones, Cherish.' He half laughed.

“Oops, guess I forgot you never liked hugs.” I chirpped back at him, but still didn't let go.

Stephan just smiled back at me like a younger version of Sam Elliot. His gentle smile and softspoken demeanor always made me feel safe, just like being with my Grandfather, only much easier to look at. From his hip, hung his pistol, an antique colt peacemaker. His stetson looked as I had last seen him, riding away from me that last summer ten years ago. I suspected his boots were even the same ones, though probably had seen a cobbler or two in between now and then for new soles.

“What brings you here now, Cherish?” Stephan asked before he gave a quick low pitch whistle.

“Hiding out.” I quipped back.

Following his whistle, I heard the distinct trod of shod hooves on the only trail leading away from the cabin. Into the clearing trotted not one, but two mares. The first one, with his aged, but still serviceable saddle, and the second laden with enough stores to last anyone two months in the shield. Both mares were the same age. I had no problem seeing that, and probably from the same sire too, although highly doubtful from the same mare.

“Cherish, I'd like you to meet my team. Buck and Dollar.” Stephan stated.

At the sound of both their names, their ears perked up and shot forward. Buck was a deep chestnut colour with strong looking lines to her. Dollar was equally as impressive, but really not that easy to see with the burden cinched to her.

“I had the notion you might hold up here for a spell this time.” Stephan spoke.

“And just how many times might that be?” I accused him right back.

“Whoa there, Cherish. I ain't the enemy.” He retorted. “Don't you be thinking for one minute, I won't tan your ass for being sassy.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to be a bitch, but it sometimes comes out that way.” I answered.

“… and don't you be cussin, neither. Your Grandfather would tan your ass himself.” Stephan mentioned.

“Yea, not fitting to be cussin, when it isn't needed to be.” I answered back. “Well, come on… no sense in not staying a spell, since you're already here.”

“Nope, that'd be just plain rude not to.” Stephan spoke through his heavy moustache.

It took about as long to unpack both horses, and give them both a feed bag as it did to get the old hand pump working again on the water trough. By that time I had almost another full bucket of pine sap to pour onto the roof of the cabin. This time I made sure both my hands were relatively free of too much pine sap when I scuttled off the roof and back onto the ground.

“Your Grandfather be mighty proud you remembered at least some of what he taught you.” Stephan noted.

“Yea, like where he hid his pipe tobacco.” I quipped. “It's going to be aged, but you know how he cured it.”

“Aye, no better smoke in these parts… even if it is ten years old.” Stephan chortled.

[Azrielle]

Chapter 1 – Escape

Reading from the map in my mind, I watched the search and rescue helicopters that circled above, kilometers away to the south. They were still looking for me. This time I had chosen to be smarter than the last time and hid in plain sight. This time they would not be finding my camp beacuse I didn't have one. The rain from three days ago had blissfully erased any trace of my escape. Four days ago, my Mother was arrested. That was what I heard on the radio, saw splashed across the newspapers, and taked about openly by almost everyone who passed within my earshot. My Mother's parting gift to me that tenth and final morning, had been the title deed to my Grandfather's Cabin, and the six hundred forty acres of forest that surrounded it. No one had even noticed I was gone until the Social Workers showed up. They set the dogs on me, but it was already too late. I had vanished.

My mind wandered back to my Mother's arrest. The newspapers had reported it as a straight out domestic dispute, but I knew better. It was a classic case of burning bed syndrome, no more, no less. My Mother had finally made up her mind that she couldn't live with him, but could not live without him either. The newspapers had reported that she's already tried and failed to take her own life. This was perhaps what she truely wanted me to escape from this time. To not have to bear witness either for or against her, while lawyers spewed words in a tangled web of what it must have been like to live in that house. The last time I had spoken the truths, no one believed me, or had chosen to just simiply deny it. My body was the ultimate truth to the lies, but being sixteen, even the Social Workers believed my Father's lies that I was a promiscous teenager. To them, being a sixteen year old runaway, always meant there was a boy involved.

For my age, I was average in height being one hundreed sixty seven centimeters tall, but still no where as tall as my Grandmother. To her final day, she never let me forget that the women of our family were always tall. She stretched a measuring tape to one hundred seventy seven centimeters. She always told me, that like the wind, our roots were what kept us from falling over. I tipped the scales at a mere fifty-two kilograms. The slight swell of my chest and narrow hips made me look like more of a boy than a girl, but my face always told them I was female. My only guess is that I must be a late bloomer, and I was starting to finally bloom.

The last time I had escaped, I was almost 160 kilometers into the shield. I moved North by North-east along the line of the big lake we called gitchigoome, Everyone else called it Superior. I had been stupid, as the search and rescue helicopters were equipped with the latest in search gear which included heat signature detectors. This time, I carefully hid myself within the hunting cabin beside the great lake, barely two days away from home on foot, but still far enough away that no one would even think of looking for me in the one place that had long been fogotten. There was no electricity here, but the cabin did have running water, even if the only temperature was stone cold. The drains emptied into an underground cistern that slowly bled the water back into the lake. The only thing I had to remember was add powdered lime to my bathwater once a week to aid in decomposing the matural wastes, and to gently clean the old pipes.

The indoor bathroom was a simple marvel of engineering genious that sparkled beneath the layers of grime I found beneath it all. The kitchen was simple, with a heavy stone chimney and equally heavy stone back heat shield that protected the cabin from having the cast iron wood stove from igniting the old timbers. The only thing I had to do was repair a few cedar shingles that had broken loose from the years of neglected occupancy. Unlike my mother, I easily scaled the gently sloping roof, and returned to the ground unscathed. A fresh coating of pine sap collected in one of the only usable wooden buckets I found in the woodshed became my seat today as I continued to watch the helicopters circling like crows.

“I need to tap another tree.” I spoke aloud to myself.

Hearing my own voice was something I had become accustomed to. To think aloud my thoughts let me somehow remember I was a survivor. But I was more than just that, I was Ojibwe, descended from the great tribes of the Chippewa. My Grandmother staunchly proud of who we were and what the land meant to us. More than twenty generations before her made me smile as I stood and stretched my legs, before heading back into the woods to tap another pine. Making the old hunting cabin presentable again was going to be a task that would take me some time, but it was sturdy, weathered the elements and provided me with shelter.

Tapping the trees was something my Grandfather had taught me. Maples made a great treat when the sap was collected then boiled down, but he also taught me that other trees were also useful too. The pine sap was capable of making almost anything water proof, and judging by how sticky it was, it also made a great glue when boiled down. Hardened pine sap was tough as nails, and also kept ice from taking hold and cracking wood. It was probably why the roof on the cabin was still close to perfection even after more than ten years of no one being around to look after it.

The cabin was simple in both its design and construction. It had been built on a low stone foundation, with the floor barely a foot off the ground. That space above the ground had been so well sealed against the elements that even the most determined rodent wasn't going to be making it into a home. The pine sap that coated the outside planks, kept the bugs from finding a way into the sawdust between the inside and outside walls. The clay bricks that made up the chimney were made in an old kiln that still stood, half hidden by a growth of new trees around it. The kiln could easily serve as an oven if I didn't want the inside of the cabin to be hotter than outside as the summer sun could easily reach thirty degrees celcius by late afternoon, but it was the humidity that really made it feel hot. The Cabin itself was easily sixteen meters across the front and easily double that pushing tinto the woods behind it. Inside, is was spacious with no interior walls, just six support pillars that held up both the roof and an attic of sorts, that was just used as storage space. The fireplace was dead center of the Cabin and not only provided light, if a well stoked fire was in it, but vented the smoke from the heavy iron wood stove that provided the only other source of heat.

My first day at the cabin had been taken with doing my very best to clean up what the weather and a few animals had managed to break. One broken shutter, and the window it broke through, spoke volumes about the craftsmanship that had been taken in its construction. A broken window I could manage to live with, but would need to be replaced before the winds of November came crashing. The rotting wood pile wouldn't even last a month without as much heat as the woodstove could provide to keep the pipes from freezing. Probably one reason why the well was dug under the cabin. Another reason was maybe to keep the vermin and bugs from finding it too. I hated bugs.

So, here I was, the second day of my survival, and coated with enough pine sap to glue me to just about anything I came into contact with when I noticed the wildlife. I would be needing to make myself another bow soon and a quiver of arrows too. There was enough game from rabbits and squirrels to keep me fed, once the tinned food I had mannaged to steal from the pantry was gone, but for now there was work that needed to be done and it gave me respite from the helicopters, as the sound of their whirling blades reminded me of where they were.

My supplies included two changes of clothes, extra socks and underwear, the tinned food, water proof matches, and my belt. The bow string and precious arrow heads safely around my waist that would remain where they were until I needed to use them. The money my Mother had pressed into my hand before she bade me to run, had bought me a knife. The one thing that I would need. The blade was sturdy, the handle was the perfect size for my hand, and it was in the sheath on my belt. Around my neck was a compass the size of a large locket. If I ever became lost all I would have to do is travel South until I hit the shore of gitchegoomi, then remember if I was East or West of where the cabin was. The one thing that I took the time to carefully put away was my Grandfather's old hunting jacket. That I would be needing to keep safe until the temperature dictated I should be wearing it.

For today, I was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. On my feet were my boots, that I had made during my last escape. I'd been smart to make them almost mid calf high to protect my legs from the underbrush that would need to be cleared from the overgrown paths. But for now, they were perfect for what I needed. With my forearm, I brushed the hair from my face that the wind had blown into my eyes. I didn't dare use my fingers, as the pine sap would not be forgiving in the least.

[Azrielle]

it did make me aware of just what AChat is.

AChat is Pandora's box.

Either play it with what it says it is or
Open it at your peril.

In total agreement with you there, Sis.

One of the reasons why I consider AChat a Game, and not an adult dating website. If you're really looking for romance, there are other more suitable places to find it. Its better to always keep things in perspective.

Mwah! Az.

[Azrielle]

I go to leave and go back to the mic and say:  “I forgot to warn everyone.  It seems that the dwarves have tunneled out a room underneath the bar room.  Their means of egress is that panel at the end of the bar…. and it seems the little buggers have some sort of a peep hole or some other way of knowing when a lady is present.  Heh, heh… sorry Lady Azrielle.”

I blushed slightly at Covems' statement about the seven little perverts, and try to remain composed. His warning was perhaps not quite in time for the lass standing near me at the end of the bar. whom I noticed had tried to be modest in her miniskirt. JD sided up next to her, and the two of them seemed to be hitting it off.

Thank you for the drink James_Dean 

“Good Evening, I'm Azrielle.” I introduced myself to Lydiarose. “Call me Az, but most peeps just call me Chief.”

“Here is your drink”, I say  as i hand it to her.”  I mention to her that I operate the mechanical bull and would love to give her a ride on it.  “I'll be easy since it is your first time on it,” I promise her. 

“Good Evening to you too, JD.” I mentioned, as if to interupt his very cool moves.

“I extend an invitation to come join the gala in the Ice House this evening… as my guest.” I offered to Lydiarose.

“JD, be a gentleman and escort her if she wishes to accept.” I spoke and gave him a wink.

“Oh… and you may want to take a step or two back from the bar.” I noted as Doc's face appeared once again beneath the bar, and the panel quickly slid shut once again.

[Azrielle]

I stride through the tunnel from the Ice House. The only person missing is Jane. Her participation will be crucial in making my dungeon's first use memorable. It has been choreographed as a complete arrangement of actions and reactions to put a spark back into the way my Man looks at me. To let him know that I adore him and always will.

Career Woman first and foremost. My Officers will be playing their part this evening with crowd control if required. Riot gear if needed. A certain seven little perverts have already absconded with more than one pair of SSgt Pafe and Cpl Satiore's panties. (Not to mention moving their pedal cars on one occasion). But they did repair the defects wonderfully and the horns and sirens worked on them now. For some reason the pedal cars also had new upholstery on the seats. My Officer's recent staff assignment to the United Federation of Planets would not be needing them to be using the pedal cars for local patrols. Perhaps it was time to consider new promotions in their absence.

Wearing my Highland Regalia proudly, I stepped into the pool room and shut the door behind me. I made a mental note to return to the Ice House via the parking lot. I looked down at my deerskin boots to see fingerprints in sharp contrast to the patent shine that took me hours to buff to a high gloss.

Though I really didn't expect my Sis to understand, having never been pregnant herself. the few sips of Champagne I had were more than enough. Just the taste was enough to remind me of the wee lass waiting for mommy to return to her later this evening. From here on in, it would be ginger ale in my flute with a hint of orange peel to distinguish it as being my beverage of choice. I still have another ten weeks of breast feeding little bonnie Heather.

I peer from within the pool room, out into the Bar.

There are the regulars of course, but it is Covems I spy from across the bar. I let him know I have seen him and tip my tammie to him. The seven little perverts under his supervision had performed their task to perfection.

I notice Mona is back from her beach vacation, in addition to several new faces. With the soft dear skin boots on my feet, my footfalls are barely audible. Akin to a Cat stalking prey, I approach the bar to make my request for a my drink for tonight. Confusing it with a glass of champagne will just not do.

Standing at the bar leaning over whispering to Covems about my beverage requirement, I feel a draft up my skirt. I look down to see Doc giving me a wink before he silently slides a panel back into place. I have no doubt he got a full view that I was wearing my tartan skirt the way it was meant to be worn. Commando. At least it was only a mental picture as I noted there was no camera flash. Sneezey had a thing for cameras… and flash powder… come to think of it, he liked a lot of things that started and ended with a bang.

[Azrielle]

I have to totally agree with HB, Rukya and Tight…

While the lingerie is very sexy, the Dev Team needs to be focusing upon more urgent matters like the development and release of more poses for LGBT.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but priorities need to be in perspective. Heck, I'm still waiting for a Dev team response for my First clothing submissions.

Respectfully.
Az.

P.S. : I love the Merry-Widow and panties the blond has on. (wink).

[Azrielle]

* UPDATE *

With Microsoft making their Windows 8 Release Preview, the operating system is solely geared towards the playbook and tablet market. I have this installed on a newer custom built desktop… But it comes at a cost, the build approached $2500.00 Canadian just for the hardware.

While this machine packs a whollop, with 32 Gig of memory, and a quad core dual socket main board with twin 3.8GHz processors, it is doubtful that any tablet will be approaching this level of speed, strength and performance anytime soon… but then again innovation always follows when new operating systems are released.

Mwah!
Az.

[Azrielle]

I was meaning on AChat! lol!

Redheads like me don't tan…… I go lobster or burn!

Hee hee hee… I hear ya Sis! Us redheads do get the short end of the stick when it comes to the sun. Between having to slather on sunblock 4000, and risk more freckles than I already have? What's the point? My first tan of the year always ends with me whimpering and crying in a bathtub of cold water with baking soda. Personally, I just can not see myself looking sexy on the beach covered in a paste of oatmeal and raw egg whites.  Then of course there is always Witch Hazel (a genus of flowering plants in the Family Hamamelidaceae).

… And don't laugh, these sunblock remedies actually work! (but not sexy at all). LOLZ.

Az.

[Azrielle]

here, here… there needs to be a balance.

Signed and Voted.

Mwah!
Az.

[Azrielle]

Okies…

I Promised you guys, so here they are!

Short Sleeve V-Neck Tee's

In White, Tan, Red, Purple, Orange, Navy, Grey, Green, Brown and Black.

Gee, they look like a Chippendale's Chorus Line!

Suggested Retail A's 19.00 each.

* * * * *

And Perfect for Back-to-School – Capris!
In Dark Navy Blue, with Simulated Leather Belt.

Suggested Retail A's 27.00

More Colours to follow!

Mwah!
Az.

[Azrielle]

okies…

Short Sleeve Crew Neck TEE'S

For the Females & Shemales in Red, Black, Brown, Green, Grey, Navy, Orange, Pink, Teal, White and Yellow

Suggested retail A's 15.00 each.

… and don't worry guys… yours are coming up shortly.

MWAH!
Az.

[Author]

Posts