Off the Grid

by Shyla Colt

  Her quads, calves, and hamstrings were tight from the brisk hike, and her thighs ached. Running on a treadmill was a hell of a lot different than being on uneven terrain. She rolled her shoulders to loosen them up after gathering all the sticks and leaves she’d need to build a nest of sorts to keep her warm and give her shelter from the elements.

  It was the first lesson he taught. Tonight she’d be in charge of starting the fire, and gathering food for their meal under his supervision. He wanted to test her skills.

  “Now that we have our piles ready for tonight, I want to talk a bit more about your knowledge of the woods.” He rested on his haunches a few feet away.

  “I know how to gather some edible and medicinal herbs and such. I know what to avoid, what’s poisonous, and some signs of animals … like bear, coyote, and deer tracks.”

  “So more than the average person,” he mumbled more to himself than her.

  She shrugged. “I guess?”

  “Trust me you do. Can you set a snare?”

  “Umm no. That I don’t know how to do.”

  “Well, you’re about to learn. I’m going to go over it with you and then we’ll go check my traps. We’ll retrieve my catches so you can reset them.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she said, hoping he’d grade her on a learning curve.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll shadow you while you gather edible items and help you if you need it. Can you skin an animal?”

  “It’s been a while. I won’t promise you it’ll be pretty, but I’m positive I can still get the job done.”

  “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged, unable to decipher his tone. He could’ve been amused of irritated. She’d seen the glares he’d tossed her way.

  He sank down on his haunches beside her with a spool of fishing line and his knife. “I prefer to use fishing line because it’s easy to come by, light to carry, and does the job. In a pinch, you can use this same method with any kind of thin chord or wire, even the right kind of vine. The most important part of setting a snare isn’t the mechanism. It’s reading the terrain. If you set them up all without purpose, you won’t catch anything. You want to set it in heavy traffic areas.

  “That means we’re looking for animal pellets, burrows, and prints. Rabbits are the easiest thing to catch around here. Now a snare consists of four parts: the noose, which we have the line for, the trigger, which we’ll carve from wood, a leader line, which we’ll make from the line also, and the engine, which will be a bent sapling.”

  “Okay?” She tried to put a picture to his words.

  “It’ll make more sense when we do it all together, but I want to make sure you understand why it works and the proper terminology.”

  “Got it,” she said, glad he wasn’t expecting things to click just yet.

  “For most small game, your noose should be between eighteen and twenty-four inches.” He cut the length of the wire. “You’ll fold the end back on itself and tie an overhand knot. Then run the other end of the line through the loop and we have the noose. You try.”

  Her hands shook slightly as she took the spool from him and cut off the length, trying hard to replicate what he’d done.

  “Good. Now let’s move on to the trigger. It’s basically two hardwood sticks. One is staked into the ground, and the other is tied with more of the wire. The important part is that they notch together.” He carved one of the pieces and fit it with the other one. “Can you do that?”

  “Not the best with a knife, but I can try.” Taking her knife, she attempted to carve out similar indentations.

  “No, like this.” He tilted her hand, helping her position her hand properly and carve down. Her stomach flipped. She met his eyes and he dropped her hand swiftly. “Much better.”

  She followed him step by step as they staked one end into the ground and positioned the trigger onto it, then hung the noose.

  “Good. You’re ready. I’ll guide you through the setup. Right now, we need to go before we lose the light.”

  They left their campsite and hiked deeper into the woods. He guided her to a spot.

  “Do you see this run? You can tell it’s where a lot of animals travel because of the footprints.”

  She could see the tiny impression in the soft mud. “I do. I see some droppings, too.”

  “That’s exactly why this is an ideal place to set snare. I have one a few yards up.”

  They checked three snares. One yielded a rabbit. He carried the carcass and hung back as he allowed her to reset the other three. On the way back toward the camp she picked up wild scallions, chicken of the woods mushrooms, and a few lingering ripe raspberries. She placed all the items in the pouch at her side.

  “This’ll make some good eating. That was a great eye finding those last minute raspberries. A few more days and they would be overripe,” Thorn said.

  His praise made her feel good about her efforts. “I know. Now they’ll be dessert.”

  “I’ll admit, Fehr. I doubted you before. Now I see you might’ve been telling the truth instead of boasting.”

  “You should never underestimate me, Finch.” She winked.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  ***

  They sat by side in front of the crackling fire. The spit-roasted rabbit rested on the flat rock between them, and they took their time eating the meat.

  “You seem like a natural out here,” Thorn said.

  “I owe it to my grandparents. They were really into being able to do things for themselves. My grandmother, especially. She used to live up the mountain, and a lot of it stuck with her.”

  “They’re important skills to have.”

  “Did you learn all of this in the military?” she asked, testing the waters.

  “Pretty much. I mean, I knew the basics of camping, but the more advanced survival techniques I learned in the Marines. You never really knew where you’d end up and you had to be sure you could take care of yourself and be self-sufficient in case you ended up on your own.”

  “It must be nice knowing whatever comes yours way you can handle it.”

  “Everyone has their limitations.”

  “Yeah, but yours are different than the normal person. You know how to keep a level head and survive emergency situations. When my Gran told me about her life growing up I was always fascinated by the hands-on approach they took. The amenities we take for granted were luxuries to her. It made her independent and strong in a way most woman of her generation weren’t.”

  “You admired her a lot, didn’t you?” he asked.

  “I adored and worshipped her. I inherited her home. I’m hoping to restore it to its former glory. Which means reviving the garden, and rebuilding chicken coops.”

  “Are you talking about the decent-sized spread about an hour out of town off the main road?” he asked.

  “That’s the one.”

  He whistled. “You aren’t too far from living off the grid yourself.”

  “Oh no, she had all the creature comforts added over the years … heating, AC, running water, and the like. I’m not worthy to use the same title as you.”

  “You don’t seem to think living off the grid is that farfetched. Why?”

  “I see the reasoning for it. Out here no one can blow your phone up, get a hold of you at the drop of a dime, or email you expecting an immediate response. You control your life instead of your life controlling you. That’s a rarity these days.”

  “After ten years being told what to do, where to go, and how to do it. I figured a life of my own design was overdue.” He took a healthy bite of his drumstick, and she popped a mushroom in her mouth.

  From his perspective the social detox made sense.

  “You should eat all your food. Tomorrow, we’ll be on the hike again and you’ll need your strength. I want to check those medicinal finding skills of yours out.”

  “Joy,” she drawled.

  He smirked. “Remember, you asked for this
.”

  “Yeah, you don’t have to rub it in, Dudley Do-Right.”

  “I’m not Canadian.”

  “No, but you have that Boy Scout quality about you.”

  “You have no idea.” His voice dropped an octave and his eyes darkened as shadows that had nothing to do with the flickering flames of the fire and everything to do with some unnamed emotion she couldn’t put her finger on. She studied him quietly.

  “I’m going to turn in to my nest for the night after I hit the head.”

  “Okay. I’ll follow suit after I jot a few things down.” Maybe I imagined that.

  It didn’t escape her that he left the majority of the meat for her. Despite what he thought about himself, she saw the gentleman she once knew. She finished her food quickly, relieved herself, and buried the bones a few feet away from camp. Bone tired, she returned to the fire, and burrowed into her nest. Looking up at the canopy of trees that allowed glimpses of the star-studded sky, she was flooded with peace.

  For the first time in a long time, she had no pressing deadlines, lengthy to-do list, or personal interactions scheduled. She found the constellations she’d learned as a child, reliving the wonder she once felt. As her body heat warmed the leaves, she felt her eyes droop. Life had been so busy she hadn’t stopped to examine and recalibrate in far too long. Out here in the silence, her mind was clear. She could think, reflect, and feel. The heavy weight of sadness remained, but excitement and joy were present as well. There was more to be learned here than how to live off the grid. It was a place to contemplate life and what her next move would be.

  ***

  Thorn

  Lilac Fehr was everything he didn’t need right now. Funny, capable, and sweet, she fit the bill for someone he’d kill to date. She loved the outdoors, had some serious survival skills under her belt, and found merit in life off the beaten path. It made their arrangement complex. It was as if she’d been plopped down in front of him like destiny unfolding. He didn’t trust it. Fate was a fickle bitch who got her rocks off making a fool of him.

  Lilac stood beside him with her khaki pouch across her body focused on her task. Today they were going to put her eye for medicinal herbs to the test.

  “Am I looking for something in particular?” she asked, looking up at him from beneath long, dark lashes that framed eyes turned a golden amber by the sun filtering through the red and yellow colored leaves.

  “No. Whatever you find that you can use I want you to collect.”

  “All right,” she said quietly.

  “You lead and I’ll follow.”

  “No pressure.”

  “Out here there’s no time for hesitation. There are no bad decisions. You make your choice and then you make it work.”

  She gave a quick nod, and the anxiety smoothed off her face as she grew serious. She marched forward like a Marine on a mission. He followed behind her. She veered to the first willow tree.

  “Well, one of the more obvious things is the bark of the willow. Out here preventing or easing diarrhea, should it occur, could be the difference between death and survival due to dehydration.”

  “And how would you do that with willow bark?” he asked.

  “Boiling it into a tea, which will act like aspirin as well and reduce inflammation.”

  Her wisdom was sound, but everyone knew about willow bark.

  She scrapped the bark free with her knife and they continued onward, stopping along the way for yarrow for abrasions and clotting inducement should an injury occur as well as lemon balm to use as a topical agent.

  “Oh, there’s a real beauty,” she exclaimed as she stalked forward. He watched while she knelt and extracted the blue Echinacea flowers. “The first sign of the sniffles, you take this and it’ll lessen the virus greatly. My Grandma swore by these to keep working during the flu season.”

  “Your grandmother was a jewel.”

  “More like a flower. Her name was Rose.”

  Every time she shared something personal he felt himself soften toward her. It was the most time he’d spent with a woman one-on-one that he wasn’t working for or sleeping with. Don’t ask her.

  “Is that how you got your name?”

  “Yes, actually. Purple was her favorite color, and I was the first girl to be born to the family in two generations. It was a huge deal.”

  “I can imagine. My cousin, Charlotte, is the same way. She sort of hated us growing up. I think we chased her to Nashville where we couldn’t keep an eye on her,” he admitted sheepishly.

  She chuckled. “Oh, I know that feeling well, but I could never leave here for too long. This place has my heart and it’s in my blood and bones. College was enough to teach me that.”

  “I felt the same way about the military. I’ve seen more countries that I can count, been in and out of multiple states, and all I wanted to do when I got out was come back home.”

  “Are you happy you did?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah. I can’t imagine working anywhere else. I set my own hours and spend my days out in the place I love most. Not many people can say that.”

  “Very true. It’s how I feel about journalism. I tried to explain it to my daddy, but he’s very much a numbers man. If he can’t see a foreseeable solid future, he’s not too keen on it. He wanted me to be a nurse or an accountant, something folks would always need. It was Gran who convinced me to go for my dreams. She was the matriarch after Papa passed away. If she had your back on an issue, there was little you couldn’t get away with.”

  He grinned. “I take it your old man is a traditionalist?”

  “Very much so. Like most men around these parts.”

  “You don’t want to do the family and kids route?” he asked, saddened by the thought of her not being someone’s mother. She had a nurturing vibe about her.

  “No, I do. I just feel you can balance that with work. You don’t agree?”

  He could hear the disappointment in her voice.

  “I never said that. I think just like a man, a woman should decide how she wants her life to play out. I never bought much into that you Jane, I’m Tarzan bullshit like some of the men around here. Yes, I want my future wife to be maternal, and know how to cook and clean, but that’s so we’re equals. It takes a team effort to make things work.”

  “Good answer, Finch.”

  “Glad you approve, Fehr,” he retorted as they continued farther into the woods to gather items.

  “Oh wait.” She pointed.

  Turning, he saw a layer of moss on a pile of rocks.

  “You can never go wrong with moss. Not that I’m too keen to eat it, but it’ll work in a pinch, and has many other properties that make it a must have.”

  “You sure you’re not auditioning for a job with me?”

  She laughed. “Ha. No way. I’d go insane without research and the need to type words never dissipates.”

  “So why not write fiction?”

  “’Cause I like history and current events. It’s important to keep the people of this town informed and updated on what’s going on. We’re one of the few places where the newspaper business hasn’t declined. They still like to physically read a paper. I’m proud of that. I find it more interesting. Besides, writing fiction is hard as hell and people are cruel.

  “It’s like anything else in the entertainment industry, subjective, and these days folks don’t mind letting you know how they really feel. I’d be a sobbing, self-doubting mess. News is the news. You’re actually supposed to be biased. Maybe one day I’d like to write about the local history of town.”

  “I’m sure everyone would pitch in. We have a lot of older folks who love to talk.”

  “Ha, you’re not wrong about that.”

  They walked over to a fallen log and she knelt, carefully gathering the green substance. He couldn’t help but stare at her rounded rear. It was enough for a man to cup with two hands. His jeans tightened. He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to scan the area to stop thinking of th
e tempting woman kneeling in front of him.

  “We should head back. I want to do some fishing to stock up for the winter and grab dinner for tonight.”

  “Are we making our own poles?” The enthusiasm in her voice coaxed a grin.

  “Yep. I’ll show you how to make a hook, too. The pole is the easy part. It’s the hook that’s tricky.”

  She bundled the moss in her arms and stood. “I’m good to go.”

  “You like to fish?” he asked.

  “Love it, and it’s been ages since I went out with my brothers.”

  Where has this woman been my entire life?

  “What’s biting now? Walleye?” she asked.

  “Walleye, trout, pike, and salmon. The latter would break the rods we have, so we’ll stick to trout and walleye since we’re not actually getting in the stream. If we were using waders, I’d take you to the area where the salmon come through on their way to spawn. It’s easy pickings with a net, or a rock diversion.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you find one of the lowest points of the creek bed, and you arrange the rocks to divert the water and the fish into an area where you can pick them up.”

  “Aren’t you a clever Dan? Will I learn how to do that before the month is up?”

  “Yes. I want to immerse you into the lifestyle as fully as I can.” He didn’t tell her she was doing a fine job of it on her own. She was the ideal student to bring out here. He wasn’t worried about her tromping through poison ivy, eating poisonous berries, or freezing to death if he let her go out on her own because she couldn’t start a fire. This is the kind of woman meant to live out here.

  They hung her finds up in a tree, laid the moss out to dry in the sun, and moved to their next task.

  “All right, we want to find a living tree branch about six to seven feet long and this fat,” he said, circling his thumb and his index finger. They hunted for their branch in solitude. He grabbed his own and watched as she tried to grab a branch just out of her reach. She rose on her tiptoes. Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth. He walked over behind her. “Let me.” He reached around her, grabbed the branch, and yanked down. It snapped off. Her hair tickled him as she peered up, and he allowed himself to enjoy the curve of her frame.