Michonne remembered the cabin because it stood alone in a thick forest of trees. The only shelter as far as the eye could see. When she and Rick had passed it earlier that day, her first thought was that it was a particularly dangerous place to hunker down. Sitting well below the main road, it was highly visible, and susceptible to being overrun or attacked.
But, an unlucky combination of walkers and unanticipated inclement weather had pushed the two of them off course and further away from their van than they'd wanted to go - complicating what had been an otherwise routine supply run. On top of that, while neither of them dared admit it, they'd gotten a little lost. With nightfall quickly approaching, and the snow picking up, that cabin was just what they needed. Only for the night.
It was even smaller up close that it was from the road, constructed from real logs, with a low sloping roof and chimney, and a little stamp of a porch made from clay. There looked to be a single door, and just two small windows on either side of it. One way in, one way out.
"You know who I bet lived here?" Rick said as they approached their home for the night. "A ranch hand."
"Why's that?" Michonne asked.
"Cause of these," he said, stepping around to the side of the house and producing a rusted, iron wagon wheel in each hand. "Anyone who'd ever let this ugly shit onto their property has got to be a cowboy."
She smirked and climbed onto the porch. The door was solid wood, and the windows were covered by drapes, so she couldn't see inside.
"No, look right there," he said softly, coming up behind her and pointing to a spot in the distant surrounding woods. It was difficult to see, but once her vision focused… A farmhouse.
It was old, and run down. Probably abandoned even before the end of the world. "How did we miss that from the road?" She asked, mostly to herself.
"Don't know," Rick said, equally puzzled. "Must have been the trees."
She grunted, noncommittally. "Think we should stay there instead?" A big house like that, no matter how old, was more likely to have supplies than a ranch hand's quarters.
"We can get warmer here. It's smaller," he reasoned, then banged his fist on the front door and held his ear to the wood to listen for any movement inside. "We'll check it out in the morning, before we head out."
She nodded, comfortable with any plan that would get her off her feet as soon as possible. After hearing nothing from inside the cain, Rick turned the door handle, and they were greeted with a gentle, yielding click. He pushed it open. Michonne entered first, moving directly to her right and yanking open one of the curtains. Rick followed suit with the other window.
With the pre-dusk light now streaming in, they could see everything. Which was, for all intents and purposes, nothing. It was a full living space, complete with a kitchenette, a few cupboards, a fireplace, and enough room for a small bed and some seating. But the place was mostly bare. There was a small sofa with an ugly floral pattern shoved against the right wall, and two old, wooden dressers in the back.
"You got matches?" Michonne asked, gesturing to Rick's over-the-shoulder bag.
He lifted the front flap and fished his hand around inside. "Got a lighter," he confirmed.
"Well, then," she smiled, walking to the back of the cabin and running her fingers along the dust-covered dressers. She nodded toward the fireplace. "These should make great firewood."
Both of them would have settled for a mere barrier from the frigid air. But the idea of falling asleep in front of a blazing fire was spine-tingling.
He tossed her the lighter. "Why don't you get started on that? I'll get these curtains nailed to the wall."
Fifteen minutes later, they had one dresser broken down, the windows covered tight, and a fire blazing. The front door seemed to lock only with a key, which they couldn't find. So, they'd pushed the second dresser in front of it for an extra measure. Michonne then ripped the bottom and back cushions from the couch and set them on the floor, giving the two of them a seat as close to the fireplace as possible.
"So, what's on the menu?" Rick inquired, lounging on the couch cushions while Michonne pulled their rations out of her backpack. "Ravioli? Creamed corn?"
"Tonight's special is…" She produced two medium-sized cans from her pack. "Baked beans."
He propped himself up on his elbow, his interest piqued. "The kind with the bacon?"
"Vegetarian," she regrettably informed him. She tossed the cans in his direction and he caught them deftly, then reached into his back pocket for his switchblade.
One at a time, he worked his blade back and forth into the lid of the cans. Meanwhile, Michonne settled into their makeshift bed with two spoons. Big spoons. The kind Michonne had to open your mouth uncomfortably wide to eat with. The ones she used avoid using to the point that she began to wonder why she'd even purchased them at all.
He handed her one can, and took a spoon from her, and they ate their sparse meal in comfortable silence.
They'd been on their run for a few days now, just the two of them. In the colder months, runs became a more trying task than normal. Squirrels, rabbits, and deer went into hibernation, eradicating one of their staple sources of food. Snow caked onto roads and signs, making it hard to follow their maps. And, as it happened today, weather often delayed and derailed their plans.
Still, it had been a good few days. They'd outmaneuvered one walker herd after another, and repeatedly pushed their car out of the snow, and frozen their tails off at every turn. And they really hadn't found much to show for their efforts. But doing all that out here, together, was more satisfying than any of the cushy jobs waiting for them back inside the walls of Alexandria.
After dinner, they relaxed into the cushions laying side by side, Michonne's back pressed to Rick's chest. It was one of several habitual sleeping positions, comfortable and especially satisfying in the cooler months.
They were both on the cusp of sleep, when an idea struck Rick.
"Hey," he mumbled. "We may be overlooking an opportunity."
"What's that?"
Rick didn't speak, just nudged his leg in between hers and pulled her body closer to his, and she let out a low laugh in response.
"You sure you're not too tired?"
"No," he lied. He was practically unconscious already. But he rarely found himself all alone with Michonne, and a soft makeshift bed, and a roaring fire. Sex sounded just as appealing as sleep. "Are you?"
"Not if you aren't," she said, and he lazily ran one hand up and down her thigh. "Give me just a second," she yawned.
"I'll get started without you." He began kissing the spot behind her ear.
Michonne willed herself to overcome her own drowsiness, and turn over. But Rick's warm hands and soft mouth were doing even more to relax than arouse her.
"Okay, here we go," she said. "In three...two...one."
But she didn't move. And shortly after, Rick stopped kissing her neck, and his breathing got slow and deep.
Just before they dozed off, Michonne whispered into the quiet cabin.
"Was it good for you?"
Michonne was woken up from a deep sleep by the sound of cracking wood. At first, she mistook it for the the fire, but she opened her eyes to find nothing but soot under the hearth. Noticing that Rick's warm body was no longer next to hers, she rolled over. Just across the room, he stood over pieces of the now disassembled second dresser, breaking it down by hand.
They'd be leaving soon, Michonne thought to herself. They really didn't need more firewood.
"Hey," she croaked.
Rick turned around to look at her, and smiled. "Morning."
"What are you doing that for?"
"We're going to need it," he explained, and was met with her confused expression. "Take a look outside."
Michonne rolled off the couch cushions, shivering at the loss of warmth, and shuffled to one of the windows where Rick had pulled out the nails and peeled back the drape. She winced against the bright glare of the sunlight, which reflected off the thick blankets of wet snow, and bounced back into the cabin tenfold.
"Jesus." They snowfall was heavy last night, but she'd never imagined this much accumulation.
"There's got to be almost a foot out there," Rick said, seeming to read her mind.
"We're definitely not in Georgia anymore," she lamented.
Rick picked up an arm full of wood and carried it past her, shoving it into the fireplace.
"Wait, Rick," she interrupted. "We can't stay here. We could get snowed in," she said.
Rick had already considered that. "Would you rather get stuck in here, or out there? Even if we find the van quick, we might not be able to move it."
Michonne let out a heavy sigh. He had a point.
"Besides," he continued. "The sun's out. It could be melted in a couple days."
"What if it's not? We're already down to a couple more days' rations. The rest is in the van."
Rick knew that, too. He weighed their options while he transfered a second load of wood to the pile.
"There's the farmhouse," he said.
"You think we're going to find food there?" She would've expected to find some tools and weapons. Maybe. But not food.
"It's worth a shot." But Michonne didn't look convinced. "What do you want to do?"
She leaned back against the wall. Either they stayed here and risked getting snowed in without food, or they went back to the car and risked getting stuck there with food, and freezing.
"You want to stay," she said, and he nodded. She got a strange feeling it wasn't just practicality that made him feel that way. But she wasn't going to dwell on that now.
"I suppose," she began, pushing off the wall. "We should check out the farmhouse, first. If we find food, then we'll hunker down until the snow melts."
Rick was agreeable to that plan. Using his feet, he shoved the remaining wood pieces to the corner of the room.
"Alright. Now that that's settled…" He grabbed his lighter and walked to the fireplace. "Why don't we pick up where we left off?"
Michonne smiled at his eagerness, but had to stop him. "Don't you think the farmhouse should be our first priority? We want to get there before dark, or before the snow picks up again."
"It's not going to take...that long," he hesitated, realizing he wasn't paying himself any compliments. "Besides, if we don't find anything, you're going to want to hit the road right away."
He was right about that. She searched her brain for something that would entice him.
"I'll tell you what. We go to the farmhouse now, and if we do find food, then we come back here, and I'll do…" She paused for emphasis. "The thing. For you."
A look of confusion crossed his face as he tried to decipher what the thing was. And then it dawned on him.
Michonne burst out laughing at the look of awe in his eyes.
"Do we have a deal?" She held out her hand to him to shake on it.
"We have a deal," Rick confirmed, grabbing her hand, and pulling her to him for a kiss to seal it.
A/N: To be continued.