Warning: This story will contain graphic depictions of violence, mature language, abuse and lemons in later chapters.

Chapter Eight

-Don't Move-

I hung the mirror on the back of my door, centering it carefully then taking a step back, examining my handiwork. Under one arm I still used a crutch, so the mounting had been a little tedious, but I got the job done.

I had ignored Ephraim's fretting about my leg and had been rearranging my room to fit my needs. The small bed was now pushed closer to the window, and I had moved the worn blue rug to the center of the floor. My newly altered clothes hung in the small closet, and a bookshelf made of oak lay against the wall to my bathroom. The bookcase was newly painted by Seb, using his new paint set Ephraim had gifted. Sunbeams and flowers twisted over the shelves and support beams. He had said he wanted to paint sunshine since we hadn't seen any in so long and I just couldn't say no.

I had spent the last two weeks welcoming in the new year with more and more independence. The room was coming along nicely, and just a few days ago I convinced Ephraim to rearrange the worship hall into somewhat of a living room. The pews were bolted to the floor, but after a few days of determination and sweat I pried them up easily enough. They were now pushed against the sides of the hall, under the stained glass windows, leaving the hardwood floor bare. Seb and I had great fun pulling in our favorite chairs and small tables for crafts and cards. On the floor we laid a large quilt as a makeshift rug and got to work reading books and chatting about nothing in particular as we lounged and enjoyed each other's presence.

Seb's schooling had been going well, and he was making steady progress in learning Spanish surprisingly enough. We had no TV, and the old radio only had one station, and it being broadcasted in Spanish gave Seb plenty of motivation to learn.

Things were coming along, and it was easy to forget the barren wasteland that must endure under the sheets of snow outside.

My leg was still stiff and sore, and not unlike the rest of my body, held deep ragged scarring, but it was almost ready to hold my weight unassisted. In a week or two I think I could make it into town.

"No. Absolutely not. You're not ready. The muscle could be atrophied. Do you really want to tear something out there and start your healing process all over again?" Ephraim had warned at our last meal together.

"I'm not going to try to go into town till next week. This is just to the shack, then the clubhouse. I can take breaks, and bunk there so I don't get tired."

Ephraim chuckled an empty laugh. "So your plan is to trek to that damn closet, sleep there, walk the two mile hike to the club house by a frozen lake, sleep there again, and do it all over again to get back? You'll be gone for three days minimum. How do you plan to eat? To stay warm?" His normally feline eyes shifted to the darker of the brown shades, catching silver in anger.

"Ephraim, this isn't a big deal. I'll carry a few cans with me, and take the wheelbarrow. That way I can push back any supplies that may be useful."

Ephraim shook his head and tossed the cloth napkin to the table, his arms crossed over his chest.

Seb looked up at us quietly, sipping his soup as we argued.

I sighed. "I can do this. Please. Believe me. Trust me."

Ephraim studied me across the table, the silence between us three deafening.

Seb bit his lip, and put down his spoon. "I think you should try."

Ephraim looked at him in surprise.

Seb didn't look back at him, and held my gaze instead. "I want to come too. Not this time, but maybe next time." His green eyes hopefully bounced between us.

I could see Ephraim's mind working, his mouth set in a firm line.

This was not the first time Seb had voiced his desire to travel outside farther than the immediate forest surrounding us. It was easy to forget, but we all had been cooped up together for months. For me, that meant a chance to heal and find family. For Ephraim, this meant safety and responsibility. But for little Seb, it meant that his developing creative mind could not explore farther than Ephraim's reach.

Eventually we had settled on a compromise. I would go at the end of this week, but with makeshift snowshoes, the rifle, and a flare. He arranged the wheelbarrow on slabs of wood, so it would glide on top of the snow rather than me having to pull it through. If that went well, next week I could try for town.

It wasn't as fast as I had hoped, but I was still happy and relieved to be of some use. Since I had shot my buck, I hadn't seen more than a stray rabbit outside, which was too fast for my slow to move hands.

As the day grew nearer Ephraim became more and more nervous. He demanded to check my leg and hands daily again, flexing and massaging the muscles and tendons. Seb however became more and more excited, flitting around the house and gathering supplies for my journey.

When the day finally came, it was all I could do to not rush out the door and into the snow. I could now walk unassisted, my leg stiff and scarred, but gaining strength. I dressed myself that morning slowly, taking time to lotion my scars, and apply generous amounts of sunscreen. Ephraim had warned me of the dangers of snow burns, and I didn't want to give him any reason to think I didn't heed his warnings.

The butterflies in my chest fluttered up to my throat as I washed my face and tied my hair up. The scar through my lip now only a thin white line.

My brown eyes had warmed over the past few weeks, and my cheeks had filled themselves out from a steady diet. I smiled a little at my reflection, and took the time to appreciate the woman in the mirror.

Returning to the snow was exhilarating and if I was honest a little daunting. I still remembered the smell of burning fuel and blood seeping into the snow from my wounded leg, my body broken and scraping with nails and teeth towards survival. But unlike the last time I found myself in the cold wilderness, I was whole. I had people I cared about and who cared for me, an identity.

I was no longer the woman who fell from the sky, I was Doe.

And I needed the answers to the questions that hung from the rafters of this old church, if I could only gain the bravery to look.

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I heaved the heavy backpack over my parka, as Seb buzzed around me, chattering about which spots in the clubhouse I was sure to find treasures. Ephraim resecured the wheelbarrow to the wooden beams, trying his best to keep his sour mood from affecting Seb.

"And don't forget about your trash. You can't carry open food containers with you, it'll attract predators. Remember, the snow is starving them and they may take a chance."

Ephraim's mercurial eyes shifted between me and my garb. "And don't take any unnecessary risks. One wrong choice and you could find yourself wounded again and It'll take me a day or more to get to you."

His lips were tight with worry, but I couldn't help the smile curling the edges of my lips.

"And bring back new books to read?" Seb bounced in place. "And maybe some chocolate?"

I laughed and caught him in a hug. "Chocolate and books. Got it." I released him with a small squeeze.

I took Ephraim's warm hands in mine, stopping their adjustment of my pack. "And I'll be careful. I'll come back." I made his gaze meet mine, my brown eyes holding his.

He huffed a little and looked at his boots, nodding a few too many times. "Right. Right." I gave him a hug, and he paused for a moment, before gently encompassing me in his arms. "You'll be back." His whisper was muffled in the padding of my jacket.

I found myself blinking back the sting of threatening tears, and leaned back, patting his shoulder. We shared this little Church together, and in the short time we had known one another, we had almost formed a parent/child bond. I knew he still feared the ghosts he claimed enveloped the town he once loved, and still bore the scars of the lost loved ones he once lived and provided for.

I also knew he feared the never ending snow and the risk of complete isolation.

So when I began my trek, I turned back towards them only once more and waved to their retreating figures, determined to come back in one piece, and come back with a plan to get us out of this storm.

The first part of my journey was quiet, and I took my time adjusting my feet to the snow, each step deliberate and purposeful. The snowshoes were wide, and helped me balance against the wheelbarrow's handles.

The snow fell in light fluffy flakes around me, almost tame compared to my memory. I soon came to the rope tether that led the way, and made my way closer to it's direction. I moved along its length quietly, my breathing and the creaking of trees the only noise around me.

When I reached the small shack, my nose was pink from the chilled air, and I was ready to make camp and rest. The journey so far had only been an hour or two of walking, but my newly patched up leg was ready for a break after pushing the wheelbarrow through the snow for so long.

I tugged on the rope handle, and was greeted to the same sight as I had seen last time I had sought shelter inside its chilly depths. I covered the wheelbarrow with the tarp, then moved inside the dark room, now familiar with my surroundings. I rolled out an old sleeping bag and after quickly stripping into a pair of long johns, curled into its warm embrace and attempted to thaw my nose against the flannel.

I slept easily enough, my mind as tired as my body, but awoke early to the sound of hail against the metal roofing. I frowned, and peaked outside, still crouched in my blankets.

The wind above me had gnarled the vegetation and snow into chaos, heaps of thundering ice falling from the sky and slamming into the sides of my shelter. But the one thing I did not see was snow fall. The ice fell in heaps, but in firm beads, not fluffy flakes. I stared for a moment, confused and exhilarated. We had seen no change in the weather in months, this was a first.

After the shock wore off I ate my breakfast, a tin of sardines and a slice of bread, then got back to work, trudging through the storm, determined not to let weather delay me. I walked in the direction the limp rope lay, guiding me towards the unknown clubhouse and frozen lake.

Whereas yesterday was quiet, today was loud and violent, my wet hair slapping my cheeks as I walked, and the hail raining down on me and my wheelbarrow.

I had left the paint behind in the shed, intending to grab it on my way back. No sense in it weighing me down uselessly. As I walked I imagined which colors I would use on which walls, and whether Seb might like to help me paint them.

As my thoughts drifted, my under utilized muscles began to tremble from effort against the wind.

This felt more like the wilderness I had left behind, and strangely enough it didn't frighten me. Its ferocity spurred me forward like a battery to a marching soldier toy.

I knew Seb and Ephraim must be worried, and for a moment I did consider turning around, only to let them know I was alright. But that would lose time, and more importantly, opportunity.

If I returned to a startled Ephraim who knows how long he would demand I rest and recoup.

No, the opportunity was now. I needed supplies, answers and hope. This was my shot in the dark.

I fought through the wind and marched on, the limp rope now buried under snow, but I kept my direction steady, using a compass loaned to me by Ephraim as my only guide.

On my left, slightly up the hill I saw the graveyard once again, marking yet another memory, this one not so welcome. The hail bounced off tombstones and fencing, undeterred on what lay beneath its fall.

As I walked the sky began to age and darken. I must've been walking for hours when I saw another post in the ground. It's tether was still up, and led into the trees.

I walked closer, and with the trees overhead the trail through the brush became more apparent. I pushed ahead, the white sky now hidden behind the long branches of cedar and pine trees, my environment darkening and swallowing me whole.

I was shivering harder now, and my leg was screaming for rest. My bones were tired but I ignored their whimpering, knowing rest was coming soon enough. This was the last stretch of my journey.

A snapped twig echoing somewhere in the woods startled me, and I let out a whoosh of air through pale lips.

I studied the woods in the direction of the sound, frozen mid step. My snowshoe hovering over the ice and leaves underfoot. Through the swaying trees and hail I couldn't make out much, and after a moment cursed under my breath and continued onwards.

As the trees around me grew closer together, their branches began to weave tighter together, and the hail falling from the sky seemed less and less able to find its way to earth. Only the extreme cold from the wind was able to find its way through the forest, leaving the ghostly howl of air reverberating around me.

My scarred skin on my hand stung from the cold, and I was beginning to lose feeling in my cheeks.

Snap.

I spun around now, that sounded awfully close. I reached into the wheelbarrow and snatched up the gun with cold and numb fingers, scanning the darkened trees with my heart beating into my throat.

I felt the urge to shout, to ward off any who might be advancing on me. But I held still, breathing heavily through my nose, and listened once more.

A low growl reverberated through the wind, carrying a low base.

I slowly turned my gaze to my left, and there I was met with a pair of almond shaped eyes, brown and surrounded with fur. Frozen, my eyes moved down towards it's panting mouth, and its large yellow canines.

A bear.

It was so close I could feel it's breath on my face, damp and definitely carnivorous.

I opened my lips, a scream working it's way through my lips, and my shaking hands pulling the rifle upwards.

It was maybe five feet away, and regarding me curiously.

"Stay...away..." I panted, the wind roaring around us and bending the trees.

The bear gave no sign that he had heard me, and took one large step forward.

"Stay...away!" I growled, louder now. "Go!" I screamed into the whipping air.

The bear's lip curled as it raised it's other paw and I gripped my rifle firmly, aiming for it's chest as I squeezed my eyes shut and raised my finger to the trigger.

Before my finger found the will to squeeze I found myself hoisted roughly into the air, by a strong arm around my torso. I gasped in shock, now shaking wholly, to see the bear seemingly just as confused as I, but now surrounded by red smoke and light.

My thighs fell into a leather saddle, and my back collided against a large chest.

"Quiet."

A low voice rumbled in my ear, a beard scratching against my neck as the whisper burrowed itself into my bones.

"Don't move."

A/N: Oooh what are we thinking? Would love to hear from you all.

This story has two main points of inspiration. The first is "The Long Dark" by Hinterland Studios. There are some elements of this story I am borrowing, but the premise is mine alone. This is a gorgeous, gripping and enchanting game. I highly recommend you play it.

The second is "Washed Up" By xrxdanixrx. I loved this story and the idea of amnesia came from reading. I encourage you all to read this wonderful story.

Stephanie Meyer is the sole owner of the Twilight Franchise, and she owns all related characters you may see here. This is merely a fanfiction of her work.