Wren arrived at the remote cabin a little after 12 PM. It took her five hours of non-stop driving to get there. She didn't stop to pee or even to think. Actually, Wren couldn't even remember the trip up—she must of driven purely through muscle memory.

As soon as her truck hit the gravelled driveway, the tension flowed from her body, leaving her arms stiff and sore. Wren left the truck parked cockeyed, desperate to get out and stretch. And breathe. Her chest hurt like she was holding her breath the whole journey back to the cabin. The one her family used to go together.

But today she was alone.

Like usual, Wren ran away when life got hard. Usually that meant retreating somewhere deep in her mind, whether by daydreaming or reading her favourite fantasy novels, like The Hobbit. Whatever the case may be, Wren wanted to be in a different world. One free from the shackles that threatened her, from the grief that impaled her. So today Wren drove to the one place she remembered being happy.

Wren walked up to the weathered log cabin and slowly unlocked the door. A whirlwind of musk and old dust greeted her as she flicked on the lights. The two bedroom cabin was exactly the same as she remembered. There was still a scratch in the wall where her sister, Rae, tried to carve their names before their mom caught her mid-stroke—so it only read: W +

Rae passed away suddenly 5 years ago. A few months shy of their 21st birthday.

Wren was the younger twin and like her namesake bird, she was small in stature—just five feet tall. Rae on the other hand was always considered to be the more classically beautiful one, taller and with a hint of regal-ness about her, but she was incredibly kind, patient, and well loved by others. Unlike Wren who enjoyed only the company of her sister, otherwise she liked to be left alone. It should have been me, Wren thought for a millionth time, You would not have wasted this life like I have…And now… Wren shook her head, shaking the negative thoughts out of her mind.

Why did I come here? Wren thought. I wanted to get away from my thoughts, not dive headfirst into it… The cabin used to be a place of peace, where she felt most at home but now the air just felt stagnant and suffocating.

"I guess you really can't go back home," Wren whispered wryly as she went back outside. Wren tied the belt around her grey wool jacket and pulled the hood over top her black fishtail braid. The air was getting cooler. Wren knew her family would start looking for her, which would lead them up here, but for now she had roughly six hours to herself. So she went to her truck, got her canvas backpack and went for a hike—the reason she even came back here.

Two hours later, Wren was deep into her trek. Every so often she would take out her compass to make sure she was going the right way. The trail she and Rae had blazed has long been overgrown.

This doesn't look right, Wren thought as she checked her compass. She was sure she was facing the right direction, but now the sun must be hiding behind the cloud because the sky has darkened, making it hard to read the needle. Shit! I should have brought a flashlight, rookie mistake! Wren looked to her right and saw a long, steep mound that looked to be leading to a meadow. If she could get in the open where there was more light, maybe she could find the way back onto the trail.

At the top of the mound, Wren slowed down to catch her breath. The mound didn't lead to a meadow, but instead down below there was just more forest. Nothing looked familiar. And it was eerily darker than what should be this time of day. Fear closed around Wren's throat. All she wanted was to make it to the waterfalls, to see them one last time. Absentmindedly, Wren reached around her neck and grabbed her necklace. The ashes of her sister. Suddenly overhead a raven croaked. It perched on the tree beside Wren and stared.

Wren bristled. In her Native culture ravens were tricksters, messengers from the spirit world, and today Wren did not feel like deciphering omens.

"Go away!" Wren yelled, "Leave me alone!"

Croak. The raven took off and landed further down the hill, towards the forest below. Wren picked up a rock and tossed it towards the raven, but she was not exactly the best thrower, despite having played basketball in school, and it missed the bird completely. The raven croaked some more, watching Wren with its obsidian eyes. Frustrated, Wren ran after the raven to try and scare it away, but her moccasins were slippery on the dewy ground and she tumbled down the hill.

Wren fell to the bottom, face down in the dirt. She flipped onto her back and watched as the raven flew back up the mound.

For the first time since she found out yesterday morning that she had cancer, the realization of her fragile mortality, Wren cried. Cried so hard her eyes were straining, like they wanted to leave her body because they too could not handle her grief.

"I CAN'T DO THIS, RAE!" Wren sobbed shutting her eyes tight, "Not alone, I can't…"

"What cannot you do, Wren?" A deep voice asked.

Wren shot up and slowly turned around to see a old man sitting on a rock behind her. He was smoking a pipe and dressed all in grey, with a pointed hat. His beard and hair were long as they gently swayed with the cool air.

"Wha…? How do you know—Who are you…?"

As the man stood up, he looked tall—much taller than Wren's short stature—and familiar. But before the wheels could click, he reached out his hand to help Wren up.

"Why," He said with a twinkle in his eye, "I'm Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey."