Isolated  (Updates in progress)

	No one ever told you how shit winter is in Montana. The cold was fine, hell you liked the cold. Lack of food, feral animals and dangerous plants that you couldn't tell from the same to eat ones during the winter months was just shit all together. Not to mention being alone was super dangerous in not just a survival sense but also a mental health sense. Were you crazy? Who knows. At least you didn't make a volleyball your best friend like Tom Hanks in that one movie.
	'What was the title of that again? God dammit you can remember all of the actor names after all this time but you can remember a movie name?' Yeah probably just fine.
	Returning to your makeshift home built to the side of one of the mountains. A tight space where you had dug out a section to form a slight overhang. A small trench along the side wall where water could drain when it rained. There were scratched on the wall in groups of five next to your "fireplace" and "stove". Calling the loose collection of stones pushed together for easier cooking and heating in these bitter white months.
	18 inches came over night. You could barely get out of your home this morning to go to your food preservation shed. Your bed looked comfy with its deer pelt blankest and summer grass mattress. There was still work to do though. Cleaning the squirrels you you had found in the traps you put out. Easy and quick work and it meant that you didn't have to be chewing on smoked meat for the twentieth night in a row.
	How long had it been? 7 or 8 years? Time to check the wall. 8 years. It wasn't so bad. Baring the crippling cold that almost killed you two years ago with a blizzard that caught you off guard on a deer hunt. 'It hasn't gotten that bad in a while. Maybe I should stock up on extra supplies just to be safe if another blizzard comes through.'
	Over dinner of dried greens and squirrel went by fast and after you catch yourself reminiscing how you got here. No words are ever spoken by you. Who would listen or reply? There was one thing that your voice was useful for and that was filling the silence with song. Words aren't made but only sounds. Lyrics long forgotten as notes fill the air. Cracking from the little use you find for your vocal chords the wispy memories of a time long forgotten to others but trapped in the cage of your mind.
	War was on the horizon. America was one of the last safe homesteads without conflict as an enemy swept over the Asian and African continents. Europe was one of the few that toppled overnight. Unwilling to use tactic that seemed at the time inhumane. South america was loosing and loosing fast. Australia was gone as well. Small islands in the Philippines, Japan and Cuba were the last "allies" we have in this fight.
	Anthros they were called. Animals that were created in a labs of India for unknown reasons. Where all their new numbers came from was a mystery. Almost everything was cloaked in shadow about them. Their total numbers, total list of species or military supplies. China and the middle east had put up the most fight by breaking the Geneva convention out of desperation by using white phosphorous and gas attacks. Nuclear was talked about on the news but luckily nothing has come of those talks.
	At the time you were a 24 year old man with his whole life ahead of him. Already served a double round in the military for 6 years as a computer technician. 3 deployments and an honorable discharge and you were working as an IT tech. There was word that a military draft might be coming through and then it drops. The first draft since Vietnam is imposed. You had served already, but you weren't going to take any chances. So you ran. To the mountains of Montana and settled down by yourself. The first year was the roughest. Non waterproof shelter, unclean drinking water and nothing to defend yourself. You survived, barely. The subsequent years rolled on with bear and wolf encounters, little food and one flood. 8 Years. Alone for 8 years and just learning how to survive away from the distraught world.
	'What was left of everything out there? Was i the only one left? I wonder if there's still music? The air is so still and empty here.'
	Giving up on any of the other menial chores that can be put off you remove your layer of pelt of clothes. Falling to your bed you pull the blankets over yourself. Letting the waves of sleep wash over you. Mind filled with the song you cant remember the lyrics to.

	Three days have passed and it turned out your idea to get more supplies stocked up was a good idea. Well stock up what you could in the barren winter of Montana. A blizzard was coming through. You could feel it in your joints. Getting to your usual hunting spot wasn't too difficult but something felt off when you got there. Tracks were all around. Tracks that looked to belong to wolves. Big ones.
	'They've never come out this far. Have there usual hunting spots been moved here because of the storms coming in?' No time to dwell on it. You just need to get out of a spot where one could sneak up on you. This location was too exposed. So you went back to your humble home to do more chores or check on the dried food stores that you currently have.

	'This is not good.' The blizzard had passed about a week ago but the large tracks were growing in number. It had to be a pack of at least 15. These might even just be scouts to see if the area was up for grabs. Either that or just one massive lone wolf that got lost and was walking in circles. Best to find a new spot to set traps and hunt.
	'The other side of the mountain should be a better location anyways. I haven't been there yet and that means there will at least be plenty of squirrels or rabbits.'
	You had been walking through the trees back to your home when you heard it. A snap of a branch, the loose rock sliding through snow and soil. Then the yelp and thud. Something had been caught in one of your snares. Something big. It was close by. Was it following you? Moving back down the mountain you peer through the trees to see what had gotten tied up. It was a wolf, an anthro to be exact. Not even a wolf because it was actually a husky. The clothes gave it away. You weigh the options of just letting it hang there to either die or gnaw through he snare rope.
	'If it dies others will come to look, Finding me. If it gets out it'll go back to others and come to find me.' Either way you were fucked. Unless...
	Moving over to the anchor point you cut the rope with one of the few items you still have before you went into the mountains. A six inch hunting knife. Slowly letting the wolf down you move to remove the snare from it's leg. That shit took a while to make, might as well keep what you can. Then you move to lift it. That's when you notice it is most definitely female. Others will come looking for a female. You're more than certain. One option then. dress the wound and leave her. She didn't find your home and that will be like looking for a specific hay stalk in 10 hay piles. You could risk it. If they did find you the you could run. You know the mountains better than even the animals that live here. You'll just relocate.
	With your mind made up you dress the cut on her leg and leave her in the recovery position. You leave making sure to both take the long way back home and covering you tracks.

	After 8 hours of moving back through your woods on the side of this mountain. You haven't heard anything and haven't gotten any of your work done. None of the other traps had caught any of the rabbits or squirrels jumping from tree to tree. You look back in the direction of where the husky you had left. She looked like she'll be OK. Her leg would heal fine and it looked like she didn't hit her head that hard and she wasn't bleeding besides what you had patched up on her leg. She'll be fine.Until nightfall and she freezes over while unconscious.
	'Damn it.'
	You cant leave her to die like that. She obviously is smart enough to keep a safe distance from you before approaching. It was also your snare she got caught in.
	'Double damn.'
	You start making your way back to her. Hoping that she wont bite out your throat if she wakes up.

-Jessica-
	'Oh fuck my head...what happened?'
	You slowly come to with a painful throbbing in your head. Things started coming back in waves for when this started. You had been hiking in the mountains of Montana to take pictures for your college photography assignment and saw a beautiful spot a little ways off the beaten path. The path you were on was already off any beaten path and you weren't worried about getting lost because you had a satellite phone and could call an emergency line if necessary. Things took a crazy turn when you found tracks in the snow that looked like a human's. It wouldn't hurt to check it out. Besides they might be lost and need your help! Following them took you to that spot you wanted to take pictures and you snapped a few. You didn't find anything. No person or anyone needing help. Just a gorgeous spot to take some pictures. Pulling out a map you mark the location so you can return, thank god dad taught you how to read a map and find your way with just a compass. With curiosity and pictures in tow you turn back to hike back out of the remote mountains.
	That was a week ago and you kept checking every day you could. The drive wasn't far and it certainly helped that college was online for you. For the subsequent visits you didn't bring your camera, just your map and sat. phone. You were about to give up when you saw it again. It was a human. Covered in patched clothing of leather and skins. It was far off and seemingly walking in circles and checking tracks. It took 3 hours for it to start to leave when you decide that you need to know more. If they were dangerous didn't matter, your curiosity was driving you. You see it's tracks in the snow and decide to keep your distance and follow them to find out where he lives to try and contact this strange mountain human.
	A snap, pull and whack and that's where your memory faded out. Coming to didn't help this rager of a headache, that's probably a concussion. Everything around you snaps into focus. A small space made out of sticks and logs from trees long cut down. A roof with a natural cement lining to keep water out from rain or snow melt on the portion that didn't look carved into the side of the mountain. A fireplace built into the seam of the two. Home made baskets and pots were placed against the walls. A small fire was burning in the pit and warming the space. On a simple chair made out of thatch and wood woven together he was siting there. The hood over his face kept him hidden beside his beard peeking out and his hands holding a pack of cigarettes.
	"Wait those are-"
	He cuts you off by looking over to you. Piercing grey eyes give way to a strong cheek structure and a neutral brow. Humans that didn't fight in the wars were extremely neutral to anthros. Hell the majority of the anthros alive now didn't fight either. Usually only the more aggressive species like honey badgers, hyenas and the occasional bear were the species to see front-line combat. You never knew the fighting or were ever trained in any sort of combat. This human's eyes looked as if he could cut you down just thinking about it. Suddenly you don't want your smokes anymore. You just want to turn invisible and run back home as fast as your digitigrade legs could carry you.
	He stares. Un-moving for what feels like hours. Then he starts to move slowly to the pack of cigarettes in his hand. Pulls one out and lights it off the fire with a sense of practice and purpose. He drags from the small white stick and a look of pure bliss crosses his face as if he was taking a drink of water in the middle of the desert. He looks back to you and tosses the pack back. Fumbling with it in the air for a couple tosses you finally secure it and hold it close. As if the few sticks of tobacco and paper will protect you.
	"It's been ages since I've had a smoke... God i hate menthol though."
	You barely heard what he said. It was a whisper not to you but himself. Reminding him of a time he forgot maybe? It was raspy as if he hadn't talked in ages, a voice growing weak from under use. First things first, he spoke English. You can talk to him. You try to get up to introduce yourself slowly but wince when you try to put weight on your left leg. Without looking at you and taking another drag of your cigarette he speaks to you this time.
	"You got caught in a snare. Lifted you off the ground and hit your head pretty good. I would think that you wont be ale to move around too good for a while. Best you just stay there."
	"So are you going to hurt me?" Honestly you didn't expect your voice to come out that steady. You were terrified right now. Strange human that has probably never seen an anthro in his life was just sitting there not trying to kill you. Is he going to eat you because you looked like some kind of animal to him? No wait he talked to you so maybe that wasn't it. More questions keep piling up as your mind races. He cuts your racing mind off though.
	"You got caught in one of my snares. You were hurt. I tended to your wound. What do you think?"
	Your mind only races faster until you loose consciousness once more.

-Anon-
	She passed out on your bed and very unceremoniously. Holding the cigarette between your lips you move over to the husky and reposition her into a more comfortable position. She smells like earth and the flowers that bloom here during spring which reminds you of another song that begins to dance in your head without any words. Just notes. With the song whisking through you mind you move over to a pack that is stowed in a corner. Old and worn from carrying gear up and down the mountain for years at a time left it with patchwork stitching and animal leather covering large holes. You pull out a few items. An extra blanket, a small makeshift pillow and a hammock that you never had a use for. That husky is in your bed so might as well get some use out of something you made when you were bored.
	Tossing a few birch and pine logs onto the fire so it will keep burning until morning you set up the hammock. Humming that song you don't know the words too. Long forgotten to you as you loose yourself in your task of setting up where you're going to sleep. Work was easy but sleep wouldn't come as such. Sharing your home with an anthro made you nothing but nervous. They fought in a global scale war and as far as you knew you were the last human on earth. Basically a living legend at this point to them. She was nervous though. Scared of you even. Maybe she just wanted to know more or did really just get lost. Curiosity didn't kill the dog of course.
	Around 1AM you started to feel sleep drag down on your eyelids. Humming those last few notes one more time you slowly lull yourself into a state of restless sleep. Unknowingly sharing the song with the fuzzy visitor.

-The next day-
	She was asleep when you woke up before the sun rose. She was in the same position that you left her and looked like just a large sleeping dog. Adorable was the first thing that rolled through your mind. Then you remember those teeth and the clamping force of regular dogs. Scale that up to human size she could probably crush bone to powder even if she was only 5 foot 2.
	The fire was the next thing you noticed. It was almost out and firewood was starting to run low. So that meant a trek up the mountain to look for some standing dead trees you could take down and just slide down the mountain towards your home. You grab your pack and start to add in the supplies you'll need. An ax and hatchet combo set, a water pouch made from the cured water proof leathers, and a sharpening stone just in case. You change over to a heavier coat with a fur lining and leave through the front door.

-Jessica-
	The human had left. The sun was up and you were alone. The faint tinge of a smoldering fire stings at your nose and you notice the air has the nip of cold. You rise from his bed and shrug off the blanket he must have put on your sleeping form. With more time to take in your surroundings you start to notice small things. He has actual woven clothing that seems to be stitched together and used for making sure his brittle pottery didn't shatter. He had a table that looked incredibly sturdy because it seemed formed out of wood and lacquer for sealing. Only one chair gave away that he was by himself. One bed. You were in his bed. Starting to freak out you heard that if you spend the night in a human's bed that means they want you to marry them.
	Humans weren't common where you were from. Hell everyone you knew growing up was either a husky or German shepherd. After the peace treaties were signed and you moved from one of the camps in the UK you came to America with your parents. They didn't want to be stuck in a coastal location so they moved to more of the pacific north west in mid Montana. Human's didn't live here much already before some anthros settled, even the largest city in this state barely had over 100,000 people. Maybe you were just jumping to conclusions from what your friends told you when you were younger and online in the Sumerian pottery crafting forum.
	After eight years in the US you had almost completely lost your accent from your birth country. That probably played into what you were feeling now. Nervous and feeling like you're in a new country all over again. Time to get some answers from this guy, like his name and why he's out here. Once he gets back of course. Maybe with breakfast.

-Anon-
	Rope, you forgot rope. You always forget something and this was one of the more prominent moments. Dragging a birch log down the side of this damn mountain was a bitch and a half. At least you weren't dragging it up the mountain. You learned that the first year. Especially when you tried to make multiple trips after a particularly large tree in the summer. Bringing the dry wood to your cutting area you grabbed a hand saw that you too extremely good care of because it made splinting the felled tree into manageable chunks. The hatchet was good for clearing the excess branches that haven't fallen off during the drag. That can be used to finish that river trap for fish during the spring and summer. Maybe you could even start a fish farm there. As you start to cleave off chunks of the tree into logs for splitting and wood working You feel as if you're being watched. Looking over your shoulder you see the girl looking at you from the window. She's only keeping a fraction of her head up to look at you with her forest green eyes. She tries to hide by ducking below the windowsill That was made out of wood and natural cement.
	The sun hasn't peeked out from the horizon yet but with the full moon out tonight made seeing tolerable. Could she well at night or was that just with feral animals? Another question for later.
	"I saw you're awake. Is your leg or head feeling any better?"
	You hear shuffling inside and see her come to the door. You always forget how short she actually is. Maybe her ears always made you think she was taller.
	"Y-yeah a little bit. My head is still throbbing like a drum and the leg can't really support my weight right now but I can limp alright i guess."
	Bringing your attention back to the tree you're cutting into smaller chunks you begin to speak again. Voice rough from years of non-use.
	"What's your name?"
	"W-What?"
	"I asked what your name was, I can't just call you girl while you're here healing."
	"Wait I'm going to stay here? With you??"
	Rolling your eyes you keep your attention on your task. You've seen the kinds of injuries that wood workers get when they become complacent and get distracted. You didn't want that.
	"You'll have to hike out to get back to wherever. Can't hike out on a leg like that."
	She looked uncomfortable but relented. She couldn't stop staring at you while simultaneously looking anxious. Hand (paws?) wringing against each other and her tail held firmly between her legs. You keep swinging as you ask.
	"What is it? Is there something you need?"
	She looks startled at your gruff voice breaking the pattern of you swinging at the dead tree cleaving large chunks of wood and having it fly to the right or left of either of you.
	"N-no there isn't... I'm more so just curious."
	"About?"
	She limps over to a small stool you had set up for the summers to watch the light fade from the sky and see the colors of the sky shift in the twilight hours. Time bleeding into the warm nights when the stars blanketed the sky. Wondering if there was a purpose to everything. Some wide cosmic plan beyond the innate chaos that stir in the galaxies and nebulae.
	"Uhm... well the first thing I guess is what is your name?"
	Broken from your melancholic thoughts you bring your eyes to rest upon this curious husky. So blind to the being in front of her. That and she seemed to be pretty rude when she has calmed down a bit.
	"Isn't impolite to ask someone their name before giving yours? Or am I stuck in an old way of thinking?"
	"I asked first." She stated in a dead pan.
	OK she is rude. Blind and rude. What else is this husky going to bring to your table? You didn't need this. Time to e rude right back at her.
	"Don't have one. Now go rest and don't bother me."
	She scoffs and narrows a glare. Boring holes into your hooded forehead as you continue to swing the edged tool through the wood that would serve to keep you both warm the few nights she was here.
	"FINE. My name is Jessica. Now yours mister no name."
	You think for a moment. What was your name? It had been so irrelevant living on your own that you didn't bother to write it down or just even remember it. Trying to think back on memories of either your military or life even before that just brought up murky and clouded memories of a time where there was no information on how to survive other than a few courses in the military or TV shows. You could remember Bear Grylls and him drinking his own piss in the desert. Why could you remember that but not your name? Because it wasn't necessary. Only things from movies, TV or military on how to survive in the woods was needed. It seems like your brain got rid of the rest. How old were you now? You had lost track so long ago it would be impossible to remember at this point.
	"Thank you for telling me your name and like i said, I don't have one. I didn't need one up here Jessica."
	She huffs. Holding her lips together and puffing out her cheeks. She was cute when she pouted. Maybe she'll start to 'cry' at you. Wolves do that to each other sometimes.
	"Hmf! Well if you don't have a name then I'm just going to call you Anonymous!"
	Anonymous huh? Wasn't bad. It'll work for the few days she's here at the very least. That'll do.
	"Anonymous will be fine. Doesn't me. Now i have a question for you Jessica. Why were you so far into these woods that you were able to find one of my snares?"
	She becomes visibly upset, seemingly determined to stay as hostile as possible for as long as possible to the gruff man swinging the ax that had never seen an anthro before.
	"Well if you must know I was out here for a college project. Taking pictures of the mountains and trying to get the best shot. That was about a week back, that's also when i saw your tracks and you waaaay off in the distance. I came out to the same spot about four or five times trying to get a picture of you."
	OK. Full stop. She was trying to physical evidence of you living out here. Why? Was she going to tell others to come and disturb or worse hunt you? Where there any humans left? You stop swinging and level your eyes at her. Gaze narrowing and shoulders straighten to face her in a more threatening stance.
	"Why?"
	She looked confused and shrunk away from your accusatory eyes. Trying to make herself as small as possible to crawl out of your sight.
	"I-I just w-wanted to show my f-friends... I-I'm sorry."
	You soften a bit. She wasn't lying. Someone lying to you would look closer to actually being guilty of something. This small fuzzy woman was just terrified. Time to straighten things out.
	"It's fine. I'm not out here. If you told anyone about me just tell them you mistook me for a feral bear walking upright. I just want to be out here by myself. Oh, that reminds me."
	You take your ax with you back inside the thatch, wood and stone house to retrieve an item you repaired yesterday. Where you found those shitty menthol cigarettes. Her bag. It was a light blue and had yellow and pink highlights. It almost looked as if some bright candy had thrown up all over it. It also had prints of other various dog species drawn as cartoons and smiling all over it. The faces were cute you had to admit. Also the name tag you just saw where she dotted the 'I' in her name with a heart. That was pretty cute. You had patched a hole that had been made as you were carrying her up a dark mountain. A broken tree limb had snagged it and made a decent sized hole. Large enough for your hatchet head to fit through but not your ax head. You had spent a good time yesterday waiting for her to wake up by repairing the hole with the sting you had made.
	"You might be needing this. Also sorry for taking a cig without asking. Been forever since I've had one. There was a tear on the way up here. patched it as best I could with what I have."
	She snatched the bag away as quickly as you presented it to her. Tearing open the zipper and frantically checking her items. Her face was full of joy for a few moments and then very quickly over shadowed by sadness and pain. She pulled something out of her bag that you didn't recognize. Mis-shaped pieces of metal followed by by several cylindrical items that looked like they were part of something more important but now would never fit back due to the large dent and several smaller ones. She sounded as broken as the items she was holding.
	"My camera...God damn it..."
	You take a seat close to her on the felled tree you dragged here and tried to get a closer look at the items she claimed were a camera. It didn't look anything like the ones you had seen before you went Amish. Wait why did you remember the Amish?
	"Wait! what about my phone!? No no no! Ah what the fuck!"
	Another item that looked alien. Maybe that was just because it was almost folded in half and what looked like the frame went through a demolition derby for small electronics. What you do remember about phones and camera's was that they were fairly expensive to replace. She had just lost both and clearly had a lot of attachment to them.
	"Where they gifts?" You don't even realize you asked as the words leave your lips.
	She Immediately becomes more hostile. Lashing out at you with a sharp tongue and hate that feels a little misplaced. 
	"Why would it matter to you!? You probably grew up out here and don't even know what these things are! You and your life out here has only made this whole experience a shitty one!"
	This feels unwarranted. If there was anything that this life taught you it was humility. Nearly dying for two winters in a row was a very good teacher not to get mad at things that weren't in your control. You couldn't control this young and short woman from following you or getting caught in your traps. She didn't know the were there. Neither of you could have prevented this. So you remain calm. As she stops you hold your hands out to ask for the items. She only dumps them into her bag.