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Steven Harold was simply an author looking forward to writing another book. He'd enjoyed writing since he was a child. It was fun for him. He'd always been a simple man. As long as he could eat and sleep somewhere safe, then his imagination would keep him amused. That was why he bought his log cabin in the first place. It was away from the city; it allowed him to get away from all the noise. Secluded up in the mountainous regions of Colorado, he would have time to think. However, he still had access to electricity. He wanted solitude, but he didn't want to be a caveman.

He had just moved into it a week earlier. His deadline was a few months away. He already had a few ideas before he'd even gotten there, so he didn't feel pressed for time. Within that first week, Steven had spent his time getting to know the wilderness that surrounded him. He loved the fresh, crisp air. The snowcapped mountain tops amazed him. It was only early fall. Snow hadn't blanketed the ground yet but it fell once or twice since he'd been there. He suspected it would come in shovelfuls soon enough. It didn't bother him, he didn't mind the cold. He thought snow was poetic, too. It inspired him to write.

There was a nearby lake, about a ten minute walk west of the cabin -a prime fishing spot. Steven had always loved fishing. His dad had taught him how to bait and cast. As he got older he was taught how to filet and cook. He liked having survival skills. While they were practical, it made for a more active imagination. He wasn't just fishing with his dad. He was the last human alive, and the fish he caught were extremely rare and dangerous. They were poisonous to the touch, and you had to be extra careful when cooking them or else you could die. At least, that was how he saw it. Some called him immature or not serious enough. But he saw the world the way he wanted to and it made him happy.

The cabin itself wasn't extremely big, but it was comfortable to live in. It had the necessities and that was enough for him. He had a fire place, and made sure to chop more fire wood every day for it. Though he hadn't used it yet, he knew that he would probably be using it over the course of the winter. His bed was twin sized. It was big enough to be comfortable, but nothing too excessive. He had a small desk next to the fire place, his laptop set there. He never understood why anyone would prefer a typewriter. They were big and heavy, and correcting mistakes were much more difficult. Steven didn't have internet access, so he would have to go into town when it was down to turn it in. Today, he was going to write. He decided that a week without trying to start any kind of work was too long, albeit fun.

He stared at the blindingly white blank document. His cursor blinked, waiting to begin. His fingers were resting on the keyboard, his mind set on getting work done. But nothing came to him. He sat there for ten minutes - nothing. Those ten minutes stretched into half an hour and then a full hour. He couldn't think of anything. The cursor blinked so patiently and innocently. He hated it. It was mocking him. He was getting angry and starting to feel claustrophobic.

"It's too hot in here to think," he convinced himself. "I just need some fresh air. That's all. Yeah. I just need to take a walk." He got up and put on his coat. He began walking through the wilderness, the conifers smelling of pine. Sticks on the ground crunched beneath his boots. He took a deep breath, holding it for a second. Closing his eyes he exhaled slowly.

"This is exactly what I needed." He decided to walk around the edge of the lake, turning in that direction and heading toward it. The mountain sloped down steeply towards the water and, even though he was being careful, Steven slipped and fell. Then, he thought he heard giggling.

"Hello?" He called, sitting up and looking around. No reply. He strained his ears to hear it again, holding his breath. Not a sound to be heard. Only the wind was blowing gently, and the trees creaking against it.

"Damn my imagination, I tell you." Steven had a long history of talking to himself when he was alone. It made him feel at ease. "It will be the death of me, I swear." He chuckled to himself, slowly walking around the edge of the water. It was reflecting the white clouds in the sky, not a single speck of blue to be found. Steven tried to think of something to write about. He sat down and tried to write an outline on the notebook he'd brought with him. Instead, he found himself doodling and then getting distracted by a few chipmunks. With a sigh, he decided to give up and head back to the cabin. He'd been gone for a few hours and was getting hungry.

Steven ate a fried fillet at his wooden table. From where he sat he could see his laptop screen. The blank document seemed to be taunting him. He kept his eyes on it the whole time he was eating. Barely halfway through his meal, he threw his fork down onto his plate.

"I'll show you. I can do this." He sat down in front of the laptop, stretching and cracking his fingers. The cursor continued to blink at its constant pace. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at it. "Stop making fun of me. Now then," his fingers rested at keyboard, waiting to type his words, "Karen was a woman that regarded her solitude. Wait. Karen? No. Not Karen." He back spaced, starting over. He tapped a finger to his chin, thinking of names. "Victoria? Ashley? No. Those won't work. Crystal, Monica, maybe Irene? No. Elizabeth?" He paused and let the name roll around in his head for a while. He smiled and nodded. "Yes, Elizabeth will do." His fingers returned to the keys. "Where was I? Ah, yes- Elizabeth was a woman who regarded her solitude as something sacred." Steven stared at the sentence. He was unpleased. "Fuck!" He slammed the laptop closed and climbed into bed to take a nap.

Steven was woken by loud winds whistling against the wooden walls around him. He got up to look out of the window. It was snowing fiercely. He smiled, amused at the millions of frozen flakes coating the ground.

"Wow," Steven said aloud, "that is amazing. I should be out there." He hurriedly put on his thick winter clothing, grabbed a flashlight, and opened the door. The wind immediately blew it the whole way open, making it bang against the wall. He was fascinated at the strength, but knew he had to stay close to the cabin. He struggled to close the door behind him as he stepped out into the snow. He sat on the stone steps in front of his cabin. He was freezing within seconds, but he wanted to watch the snowfall. He cast his light against the various trees around him -watching the branches gather more and more snow. The ground was no longer visible, a white blanket covered it. He turned his light against his cabin and watched the roof collect massive amounts of snow. As badly as he wanted to stay out for the whole night, he quickly felt too cold. He needed to go back inside and warm up by the fire. Standing, he went back inside.

Steven sat next to the fire for a while, warming up and thinking about his writing. His eyes watched the flames dance back and forth. He studied the wood as burned and blackened. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he realized how tired he was, but he was ready for sleep. He cleaned his plate off the table, throwing the half eaten fish in a zip-lock bag and put it in the fridge. He put out the fire and walked over to the single lamp that stood in the corner. He reached up to turn it off. As he did, he glanced over his shoulder and immediately jumped.

He'd seen a pair of eyes looking in his window. He knew he did. They were the brightest ice-blue eyes he'd ever seen in his life. He clicked the light back on but there wasn't anything there. He began to get paranoid. He locked his door and checked it multiple times, before looking out the window for what felt like forever; eventually deciding it was all in his head.

"One of the downsides to having such an active imagination, I suppose." He chuckled to himself. "There wasn't anything there." He turned out the light and hopped into bed. He felt better, but he still couldn't help himself from staring at the window during those long minutes before his eyes fell shut.

Steven spent the next day walking through the woods. He bathed in the silence and the beauty of the snow. It was only broken by the crunching sound of his boots as he made a path through the several inches on the ground. He sat on a log, pondering. Elizabeth, he thought. It bothered him that he couldn't write. He was a writer. It was his job to write. But he just couldn't get past the first sentence. He felt anger and frustration building up inside of him. He needed to let it out. He stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" He screamed as loud as he could, listening to his own echo. He shouted until he was out of breath, feeling much better. He smiled.

"There. Much better," he told himself. Then he heard it -more giggling. He turned around in all directions. "Hello? Who's there? Who is that?" There was only more silence. He stood longer, waiting. "I know I heard something. He suddenly caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his whole body toward it, and then froze in place. He could see the face of a wolf, peeking out from behind a tree trunk. He stood there in fear.

"Easy. Easy.." He didn't know why he was talking to it. It was the only thing he could think of doing. "It's okay." The wolf simply stared at him. It turned its head in curiosity. Something didn't seem right about the animal to Steven. Is it, smiling? Steven started to slowly back away from the wolf. When he did, he tripped over the log he had been sitting on. He shut his eyes. His heart was pounding. This is it, he thought. It's going to rip my throat out. I'm going to die. He closed his eyes and waited. But instead, he heard more giggling. Opening his eyes, he saw the wolf giggling. The wolf is laughing? He propped himself up on an elbow. The wolf was indeed laughing. But that's wasn't the weirdest part. The wolf had stood up. Stood, on two feet. She had the figure of a human: hands, feet, and breasts. But she had gray fur and tail. She was a mixture between man and animal. Steven's head started to spin.

"I'm going crazy," Steven thought to himself. She started walking over to him, and then knelt down next to him. She smiled at him. Her bright ice-blue eyes looked him over.

"I am going crazy," he repeated. She shook her head.

"Wait. Can you understand me?" She nodded. She did understand him.

"Can you, speak?" She sighed, shaking her head again.

"Are you going to hurt me?" She looked him in the eyes, then grabbed his hand with both of hers, shaking her head again. He smiled at her. She returned the gesture.

"You're all alone out here?" Again, she communicated yes. "Are you hungry?" She practically barked. He tongue hung out of her mouth and her hand rubbed at her stomach. Is this for real? Am I about to ask this.. creature to come eat with me? What is going on here? But he couldn't let something so seemingly innocent starve. He needed to help.

"Well. I can feed you. If you can help me up real quick, we can go back to my cabin. I have food there." She stood up, taking him by the hand and pulling him up with her. Standing there side by side, he realized that she was taller than him. He wasn't sure if he liked that. She was also a lot stronger than she looked. He was still extremely nervous. Her teeth were sharp, her body was lean and toned. She was bigger and stronger. Plus, she was a predator. He wasn't sure what he was doing. He wasn't even sure why he was doing it or what would happen next. But he knew it was the right thing, and that it would be an adventure. His very own adventure.