Annalea placed the last of the firewood she’d collected under the covered wooden shelves just outside her front door. The cottage heat felt far away as she trudged out into the cold. She’d left Louisa in her crib as she loaded the last of the firewood she’d gathered that morning under the tarp. The day was darkening fast. The woods were snowy and isolated. 

Annalea turned to step back onto her cabin’s porch - before she herself froze and left Louisa motherless, she thought - when she heard a snap of a branch twenty yards away. She turned quickly to look into the dense brush and saw nothing and no one. Likely a small creature or falling icicle had disturbed the silence. Annalea moved quickly inside. They would be alone that night. The Bear was off hunting for their meat, a weekly ritual, and Annalea enjoyed the peace of his absence. Louisa slept through the night and now, at seven months, would even enjoy pieces of potato or deer that Annalea gave her, filling her tiny belly to its fullest delight and setting her off into a peaceful slumber near the fire in her tiny room. In the two-bedroom cottage, two fireplaces kept the insulated wooden frame toasty in the winter months - which were long. Winters could last three seasons, Annalea sighed, huffing as that old adage played in her head daily as she remembered it was only January. Only six more months until the spring air would allow them to open their windows again.