Up, down, rise, chop, metal splicing wood, the sound resounded through the woodlands, through the young man with his axe, comforting, mind numbing, familiar. Grigori needed this, as he always does, to keep his mind off of the world around him. To keep himself planted firmly in the land of the living. Yet all too soon his work was done, the wood hed collected earlier in the day split into nice even stacks. Inwardly he sighed lost in the knowledge that now he would be free to remember, to loose himself in a dead past.
But first he had a bit more work to do, with an effortless grace surprising in a man his size he slips down, grabbing a huge bundle of firewood in each arm and lifting them as if they were nothing but sacks of air. They pile nicely in the back of his truck, ready to be sold in the town sometime later. Its a hard job, but in a town like Neige where winter is long and hard, its one that is appreciated. Everyone needs wood here, everyone needs the warmth, and Grigori can always provide.... not that he has much else to do.
He lives alone, cooks for himself, and generally stays out of other peoples hair. Speaking of which, his wildly grumbling stomach acted as a good reminder that it must be dinnertime. His steps are brisk as he makes his way back to his little cottage in the woods with its warm fire and the little tendril of smoke curling lazily from the chimney. As he walked inside he threw his snow covered coat upon a nearby rack, his boots into the nearest corner, and took a moment to taste the soup hed left bubbling over the fire.... Thin, and tasteless, he dropped the spoon back into the pot with a grimace. Hed let his supplies run low again, nothing for it but to make a run to town for more, but hed wait, as he always does, till after dinner.
4 plates, 4 chairs, 4 places set for a family that has not been there for over 3 years. It takes all his conviction to look at each place and offer up a prayer to any god who might listen, for the souls of those who SHOULD be sitting there. One for his mother, taken by illness, a blizzard blocking her desperate husband and children from the medicine that could have saved her. One for his sister, taken by the fangs and claws of a bear, the same bear that had dug its claws into her brother before he and his father both could kill it. And one for his father, taken by grief, guzzling spirits until, at long last, his kidneys gave out.
A table of the damned it seems. His gloomy thoughts swirled, the faces of lost love spinning within the confines of watery soup, it was enough to crack his usual stoic facade, and force a dozen salty drops from his eyes.... maybe now that soup would have some flavor?
Grigori needed to get out. To escape memories of times past. Before he knew it he was up, grabbing the things he would need for a quick trip into town, keys, his pipe, tabac, matches to light them up, his large coat around his equally large shoulders, and he was out the door, nearly running for his truck.
Its not like he hadnt needed to go into town anyways, the wood in the back of his truck needed selling, he needed supplies for winter, and if he let himself admit it... he needed away from his memories. On the way he grabbed his axe and tossed it in the back seat, never know if some old lady will decide she wants her firewood chipped or split or whatever other fool thing they might think up.
-Couple hours later-
Finally the outskirts of town. Itd been an uneventful ride as always, nothing more than iced roads and the occasional animal flitting across them to bother him. But something didnt feel right, normally he might see a car passing, a hunter parked by the roadside, yet hed seen nothing of the sort. And even more unusual the town seemed empty, though with the snow picking up and piling itself in drifts all around him he was sure some would be stuck within their houses..... but still someone should be out.
It was another ten minutes before he spotted his first sign of the horror to come..... red stains in the snow, a crimson trail leading from the door of a house. Suddenly images flashed through his mind, his mother sick in bed slowly dying, the bear looming above him its teeth dripping with his sisters blood. The silence of the town was too much, something about the place too surreal. With an angry growl the young man reached into the backseat and grabbed up his axe placing it in his lap.
And then he heard it... screams in the distance. Against his better judgement he turned down the street and headed that way. The first thing he noticed was a mob in front of the clinic, they clawed at the doors and windows, crawling inside, even over each other," Must be some kind of epidemic.." Then he saw it, out the back window, figures crawling out and falling to the ground. Hed known the doctor for years, the man had patched him up when he was mauled by the bear, and, more recently, supplied him with medicines and salves to keep at the cabin in case of trouble. With luck the man had been able to escape as well... that bunch at the front looked dangerous. Grigori pulled his truck to a stop right next to the group, its well maintained parts making almost no noise.
