8. Mika

MIKA

Next morning, I"m trudging into town and hoping I don't have a pack of wolves stalking me, or even just one—but hopefully none at all. After last night, my brain"s a tangled mess of fur, fangs, and curiosity. Oh, and laughter. Wolf laughter. I'm still questioning if that part really happened or not.

I glance over my shoulder for the hundredth time, half expecting to see that wolf tailing me. Instead, it"s just the usual hiking trail scattered with leaves and debris. No giant laughing wolves in sight.

When I make it into town, the early morning hustle is in full swing. Small towns are like that; they're alive with a rhythm that's both comforting and unnerving. Everyone knows everyone else. And since I'm not ‘everyone', I'm met with curious glances, which means I'm likely to get asked questions—none of which I'm ready to answer.

Damn it. Why didn't I just keep working on my foraging skills instead of giving in for my desire to seek out a decent cup of coffee?

The local diner, ‘Betty"s Brew,' is just ahead, its red neon sign flickering like it's caught in a time loop. I hesitate for a second before pushing the door open. The aroma of fresh coffee and frying bacon hits me like a warm embrace, immediately soothing the frayed edges of my nerves.

I climb onto a stool at the counter and pick up a menu. It's the kind of place that feels like it"s stuck in time—retro decor, checkered floors, and oldies playing softly in the background. I glance at the menu, but by the time I'm ready to order, it's as if no one is interested in serving me. The waitstaff seem preoccupied, and I can"t seem to catch anyone"s eye. I sigh, my stomach growling in protest. Just as I"m about to give up and leave, a deep, gruff voice interrupts my thoughts.

"New around here?"

I look up to see a huge man sitting a few stools down, his eyes fixed on me. He"s got a rugged, almost intimidating presence, but there"s something in his gaze that makes me pause. Blue eyes, sharp as daggers, but also oddly welcoming. I give him a quick once-over. Leather jacket, tattoos, the works. Definitely not your friendly neighborhood librarian.

I nod. "Just passing through."

He nods, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Small towns can be tough on strangers. Folks around here aren"t used to seeing new faces."

I chuckle softly. "I noticed. It"s been a bit of a challenge getting any service."

He gestures to the waitress, who finally notices me and comes over to take my order. I ask for a coffee and a sandwich, grateful when she hurries off to get it.

"Name"s Silas," the man says, extending a hand with fingers adorned with chunky silver jewelry.

"M— Mary," I reply, catching myself before I give him my real name.

"Nice to meet you, Mary," he rumbles, shaking my hand. His grip is firm, his hand warm and calloused. A strange heat travels up my arm and settles somewhere between my ribs. I pull my hand back, rubbing my palm as if it'll erase the sensation.

"What brings you to this little corner of the world?" he asks, eyes never leaving mine.

"Just… looking for some quiet," I say, trying to keep it vague. "Needed a break from the constant noise of the city." My stomach turns, not from hunger this time, but from the half-truth. I'm always running, never just "taking a break."

Silas nods slowly, like he's weighing my words. "This place is good for that," he says finally. "Quiet, and off the beaten path. Safe too. I"m out here camping and hiking the mountain trails myself."

"You hike in a leather jacket and boots?"

He chuckles. "I have my gear in the saddlebags of my bike."

"Oh. That's your Harley out there, I'm guessing."

"Sure is. Nothing like the wind in your hair and an open road stretching out in front of you. Feels like freedom, you know?"

His words tug at something deep inside me. Freedom. What a concept. I nod, trying to imagine the feeling of the wind in my hair without looking over my shoulder every ten seconds.

"I can imagine. Just be careful out there hiking. I've caught sight of some big animals."

He smirks. "I've been known to handle a few wild creatures. But thanks for the tip."

The waitress returns with my coffee and sandwich, placing them in front of me with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. I thank her and take a sip of the steaming coffee, feeling its warmth spread through my chest. Silas watches me with those piercing blue eyes, then he stands up and pulls a few bills out of his pocket.

"For me and the young lady here."

"Oh no. You don't have to pay for me."

"It's no trouble. I insist. Maybe I"ll see you around while I"m in town." He hands the waitress a few bills and gives me a wink. "Us outsiders have got to stick together. Take care, Mary."

"You too."

I take a bite of my sandwich, chewing slowly as I watch him through the diner window when he leaves. Silas moves with a confident stride, like he owns every inch of ground his boots touch. There"s something about him that feels... solid. Familiar, even.

Finishing off my meal, I down the last of my coffee, then head to the general store to gather my supplies. They weigh down my bag, but as I make my way back up to the cabin, my steps feel lighter. I don't know if it was the meal or the fact I'm so far off the beaten path that it actually feels like I can relax for once, but for the first time in a while, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I'm going to be OK.