“You never need to be alone again.”
Epilogue
“Get off the damn counter!” I place my hand on the side of Solo’s head and gently push him until he jumps to the floor. “Training a cat is pointless.”
He whines and rubs against my legs.
“I don’t want him to start another fire,” Seri says, glancing up from her book. “If he can learn to stay off the counters, he can learn to stay off the mantle, and we wouldn’t go through so much kerosene.”
“I still wish he was a husky.”
“If you want a dog, get a dog.”
“I didn’t say I wanted a dog,” I say as I place Solo’s food bowl on the floor. “I just wish Solo was a dog. Not the same thing. If there were one more living creature in this place, I’d have to build an addition.”
Seri waves her hand dismissively and looks back down at the book. It’s the mystery I bought in Yellowknife at the beginning of the winter season, which now seems like a couple of lifetimes ago. We have both been reading the book, switching off after a couple of chapters and discussing our theories. A few times, Seri read out loud to me. Now, she’s reading the last chapter, and I’m still two chapters behind.
Solo finishes his fish, and I wash the dishes from his meal and ours. Just as I get everything on the drying rack, Seri speaks again.
“Okay,” Seri says as she places the book down on the table, “I’m finished. You have to catch up because that ending was—”
“No spoilers!” I yell, and Seri laughs.
“Read faster!”
“Later,” I say. “We need to get the wood brought up from the barn before it gets dark. You ready?”
“Yep. Let’s do it.”
As Seri and I get our winter gear on, Solo meows and runs back and forth in front of the door.
“Solo wants to go out, too,” Seri says.
“I can’t believe how much that cat likes snow,” I say with a shake of my head. “After his beginnings, you’d think he’d never stray more than ten feet from the fire.”
We make our way outside, and Solo prances over the snow, attacking little chunks of ice between the cabin and the barn. As we load wood, Solo sits just inside the barn door and licks snow from his paws.
“Maybe we can make him some little boots,” Seri says. “He’d be so cute!”
“I’ll make them,” I tell her, “but you have to put them on him.”
“Good point.” Seri nods. “That could be a very dangerous activity.”
We finish loading the sled with wood and the last of the fish. Solo helps by jumping to the top of the sled and using the logs as a scratching post. He tilts his nose up and sniffs the air with his mouth slightly open, and I wonder what it is he smells.
Can cats be taught to track game for a hunt, like dogs are?
I look over at Seri, and I see her looking out toward the rocks to the northwest. She bites down on her lower lip and then looks away.
“Never should have told you where I buried them,” I mumble.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
She narrows her eyes at me but doesn’t press the issue. At least now she’s wondering what I’m muttering about instead of thinking of Kyle McGuire’s gravesite.
We load up the sled and haul the wood back to the cabin in good time. Solo rushes back and forth in front of the sled, occasionally jumping on top of it for a ride. Once all the wood has been stacked up inside the cabin, I haul the sled back to the barn.