Into the Storm

I pulled up and away from the engine. “I am NOT his daddy. He’s my dog. And I’m never going to get anything done if the two of you don’t go away and stop blocking my fucking light!” I snarled.

She regarded me quietly. “I’ll take that as a no. Your coffee is in the thermos. Come on, Bear, your master is busy.” She leaned down and grabbed his collar, then walked away.

Finally.

I went back to work; I tightened the belt and continued checking. Except, now that I had all the space and light I needed, I couldn’t concentrate. All I could see was the soft hurt that had appeared on Rabbit’s face when I had yelled at her.

And what had she done? Made me coffee and asked if she could help.

Yeah. That so deserved my anger.

Instead of telling her how tense I was still feeling from pushing my boundary limits when plowing and the fact that the road was once again open which made me anxious, I yelled at her and sent her away.

Fuck.

I threw down my tools and grabbed the thermos. I didn’t even bother pouring it into the lid. I just drank it from the thermos directly. The hot liquid’s aromatic steam drifted upwards and I closed my eyes briefly, enjoying the cinnamon-laced beverage. I went to place the thermos down and noticed the slice of pie sitting on the tool chest as well. And lying across the top was a fork. I felt my lips twitch in memory of the kitchen events of a few days ago, and then I groaned.

I was such an asshole.

She knew without me telling her how distressed I was and had come to offer me her quiet comfort with both her company and her treats. Instead of accepting either graciously, I snapped and hurt her feelings.

Suddenly, the truck didn’t seem as important as finding Rabbit and apologizing. I’d go get her and she could hand me my tools and talk to me while I worked. We’d both feel better.

If I could get her to listen to me.

I trudged up the path to the house and had just rounded the bend when the first one hit me.

THWACK!

I stopped walking and raised my hand to my head. It came away wet and covered in snow.

What the fuck? A snowball?

Before I could even figure out what happened …

THWACK!

This time the snowball hit me right in my chest.

I looked down, mouth agape, and made the mistake of raising my head to scan the area around me.

THWACK!

Right. In. The. Face.

Blinking, I stood there speechless and was suddenly hit with a barrage of snowballs. Very few missed.

I hit the ground. I heard a mischievous giggle and then there was silence.

“Rabbit!”

Nothing.

“Rabbit, where the hell are you?”

Nothing.

I crawled back around the bend and then poked my head back to see. The large piles of snow were excellent hiding places. Especially when you were tiny. I focused my gaze on the direction I thought the snowballs had come from. As I was doing this, my hands were busy getting some of my own ammunition ready.

“Rabbit! I’m coming out now. No more snowballs. I’m warning you!”

I stood up and poked my head around the bend. Sure enough, I watched a snowball come flying my way, but this time I ducked.

And thanks to Bear’s tail sticking up in the air, I knew exactly where she was. Right behind the clump of bushes ahead and to my right. I chuckled to myself. If I went back towards the barn, I could sneak around and come up right behind her. Just to throw her off, I yelled out one more time. “I’m soaked, Rabbit! And the last one got me in the eye! Come out!”

My only answer was another snowball that flew past me. I stood up and threw one widely, wanting her to think I had no idea where she was.

“Fine! I’m going back to the barn!” I yelled, trying not to laugh. I crouched down and quickly made my way back towards the barn, and once I got to the other path, I quietly made my way around behind her. And there she was, huddled behind the row of bushes with an impressive pile of snowballs sitting beside her, ready to do battle. I could see her peering through the bushes trying to see where I was, while Bear sat beside her, chewing on one of the snowballs. He glanced at me and I gave him the hand signal for silence. He stared at me briefly, and then looked over to Rabbit. Finally, he gave a huff as if to say ‘I’m out,’ and then went back to chewing on the snowball. I quietly crept through the snow until I was about five feet behind Rabbit. “Where are you, you grumpy man?” she muttered. “Come back and I’ll show you an interruption.”

My lips twitched at her angry mutterings. Pulling two snowballs out of my pockets, I steadied myself.

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