Not much time left. I’ll be leaving soon, tomorrow if all goes to plan. Dare I believe this is my plan, and not one concocted by clever Professor O? So I have to write this down even if my one good hand feels like it’s turning to stone.

That day I spent huddled under the canopy of my fort, growing hungrier while thinking my dreadful thoughts. I heard footsteps later in the afternoon, coming closer to the cabin than they typically would. Then I heard footsteps approaching the door right next to where I was hiding in my fort. I heard a kind of chuffing, snuffling sound, beast-like on the front landing. Then a violent banging on the door followed by the sound of footsteps running away.

My heart was up in my throat. Forget the bloody noose, I was going to die of fright right then and there. I tucked myself into a little ball like one of those roly-poly bugs while listening to the footsteps fall out of range. Eventually I uncurled and waited to see if my heart would settle down or seize right up. My head was tingling from holding my breath for who knows how long. And my vision was blurry. So maybe it was the lack of blood and oxygen in my brain that drove me out from my hiding spot toward the door and commanded my hand to turn the knob. Of all the things I thought I might see on the front doorstep, the skinned and fire-roasted rabbit was furthest from my mind. The fragrant aroma rising up from the steaming rabbit caught me by surprise and caused my stomach to grumble. This cooked meal left here by my protector, I presumed. I hardly remember retrieving the plate and scooping the rabbit onto it. I was drooling, if you can believe it! Feeling like one of those blasted castaways on that silly Survivor show. And it’s with more than a little shame that I’ll admit ripping into that succulent flesh with my bare hands, gnawing on ligaments and bone much like the beast that cooked it for me undoubtedly would.

It was among the most delicious meals I have ever eaten, and that’s the plain truth. Partly, I think, because I was so hungry. But also because of the odd circumstances in which it was served. The intensity of the situation I find myself in. All of my senses on high alert. Fighting for my very survival. Being protected, if not courted (lord, what a curious existence!) by a feral man who fancies me. Showing more valour in his defense of me in this isolated cabin than any other man ever has. Preparing a cooked meal that he hunted and killed on his own. Show me a man like that in the city who doesn’t expect a proper shag in return. Ha!