text: “Why the hell are you tied to a tree?” “Good question, *am* I tied to a tree?” Dan Conifer looked at the young man, Richard Pritchard, who was probably around 20, with due amounts of skepticism. The Kid was tied to the trunk of a thick, ancient white spruce, bent almost double from trying to wiggle out of the rope. Conifer gave The Kid a look to urge an actual answer. “Oh, ha, yeah, that- uh, my girlfriend will be back soon.” He said, a struggled smile on his face. “How long has she been gone?” “Twelve hours.” It was a wonder he’d survived this long. It had been snowing nonstop literally all day the day before and through the night and it was around 11:00 AM. The Kid had been out there for the coldest part of the night. “Huh, yeah, she’ll be back.” Conifer began to walk away he didn’t feel like he was going to hurt The Kid in doing this, he seemed to be doing a good job at wiggling out of the rope and Conifer figured The Kid would be free in less than an hour. “No no no no no! Dude dude dude dude dude!” The Kid said very quickly from his increasingly uncomfortable position on the tree. Conifer turned around with a look of utmost exasperation seasoning his stubbled face. “She *will* be back, won’t she?” “Look, can I be real? Like, real real?” “No.” “It’s a good, good story!” “No.” “At least untie me?” Conifer had better things to do though he couldn’t presently think of any of them, there just had to be better things to do than this. “Why should I?” Conifer asked the Kid. “I’ll be your be your best friend!” The Kid said, with a stupid grin on his face. Conifer turned and started walking again. “Okay look she probably won’t be back but please, just come untie me!” The Kid yelled the last words because the red and blue that was the flannel and jeans of the mysterious man he encountered in his and his girlfriend’s sex woods was fading behind more and more trees. “GODDAMMIT!” Deeper in the forest, Conifer’s concerns did not match up with Pritchard’s. Pritchard’s glasses fell off of his face and onto the ground, but Conifer had just caught a bear in his own two hands. Pritchard stepped on his glasses as Conifer plucked, skinned, and ate two raw ducks like apples. Pritchard gave up and fell asleep as Conifer domesticated a wolf. Hours later, Conifer stalked through the woods back into the view of the now awake kid, however, two things about him were different; he was covered in blood and had a wolf, there was no way to tell if these things were related. “Hey, man. Cool dog. Wanna help me out now?” The Kid asked, now beyond the fake smiles. It was freezing and his body melted all of the snow that fell on him leaving him soaked and very cold. “Not particularly,” Conifer said, continuing to walk and stare straight ahead. His Gibraltar taking-care-of-only-himself philosophy was beginning to wane at the moment. What if The Kid actually died? That’d be like leaving a baby goat in the middle of a harbor. “Pretty please?” The Kid’s constant begging was breaking Conifer down in real time. “Fine! Just shut the fuck up and come with me.” Conifer said pulling out his knife, that he rarely had a use for. “Hey, thanks! Why are you covered in blood?” The Kid asked too many questions for Conifer’s liking. “You wanna find out?” Conifer said as he turned around. Pritchard stayed where he was, terrified, but that fear turned quickly into relief when he realized that he was with what was probably the most qualified man in Alaska. “Are you coming?” Conifer yelled back at him in utter annoyance. Why did he have to have such noble morals even after all he’s been through? It was truly a nuisance to him. Pritchard snapped out of his stupor and ran up to catch Conifer. “Does this mean we’re friends?” The Kid asked. “No.” “I think it does.” “No.” “Yeah.” “It means I didn’t want you to die, numbnuts.” “Because we’re friends.” Upon arriving at the mountain man’s cabin, The Kid realized he was, in fact, frostbitten over most of his body. But it was alright. He knew that the mountain man would help him with that, right? Conifer pointed to the corner where a sad-looking cot sat that had a myriad of holes in the sheets. The cabin was only one room, but that’s all it needed to be. The wolf went to lie down on a blanket by the fire. In the opposite corner from the cot, there was an enclosure filled with around twenty live ducks, the tumult of their quacking drowned out the roar of the fire and most conversation. It was like a white noise machine for Conifer, he couldn’t sleep unless his food store was quacking the whole night away. The mountain man covered him up in what had to be twenty pounds of red flannels and blankets made of fur pelts. He then gave Richard a bottle of bourbon. “Warm up.” The Kid drank almost half the bottle, he pulled it away from his lips screaming. “Wow wow! That’s a-gettin’ toasty!” The Kid was drunk. “Please, just be quiet. Here, have a duck.” Conifer reached into the pen and tossed The Kid a duck. It landed on the cot with a loud *Wah*. “I can’t eat this thing. It’s beautiful! Holy shit, dude! Eat her?! Nah!” “What do you want me to cook it?” “NO!” The Kid grabbed the duck and held it close to his body. “Warm, beautiful, sexy duck.” “Okay, I’ll put her back.” Conifer got up to grab the duck “No, fuck you, we’ve bonded.” “Kid, goddammit just give me the duck.” “No, she’s my best friend, I love her.” “If you love her what’s her last name?” “Johnson.” “Johnson?” “Yeah, Johnson.” “What’s her first name?” “Becky.” “The duck’s name is Becky Johnson?” “Yeah.” There was a long dumbfounded silence. Conifer was really at a loss for words. “Okay, then, kid, what’s your name?” Conifer asked him. “Richard Pritchard.” “Bullshit!” “Honest on my scout’s honor you bet.” “Can I call you Dick?” “No.” “Okay, Dick.” “What’s your name?” “Daniel Wilson Conifer III.” “Okay, now that’s fake.” “Does it matter?” “No.” “Tell you what, Dick. I’ll make you some soup--” “Duck soup?” Pritchard asked, horrified, pulling Becky Johnson closer. “No, Becky’s safe,” Conifer reassured him. “Now, I’ll make you some soup, let you warm up, and then come morning I’ll give you a ride into town in my truck. Good?” “Yeah....” Pritchard was already drifting off, “Thank you, Dan. I love you.