The blade of the ax caught the light as it swung upward, around and then down in a graceful arc, splitting the log down the center when it struck the wood solidly. Chloe repeated the process. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. Her muscles burned, but in a good way, as she swung the ax. The repetitive task let her clear her mind and she felt at peace, at least for the duration of the job. When a large pile of wood surrounded her, she stood and set the ax aside to begin gathering the logs. She placed them with the rest beside the shed several yards from the back door of her cabin. Once she finished stacking them, she reached her arms above her head to stretch before pressing a fist to the small of her back, rubbing away the ache that settled there. Glancing over, she caught sight of the sun where it hung in the sky above the tree line. It had already begun its descent in the western sky.

"I got a decent amount of work done today." She pulled the elastic band from the mahogany waves of her hair, scraped it back, catching the stray strands that escaped while she worked, and replaced the band. A shower before bed was going to be necessary, she was sweaty after the day's work. The day had been long, but she worked hard and got a lot done. Her garden was free of weeds, she had a good supply of firewood, her cabin was spotless, and the stew she'd set on the stove earlier should be done by now.

She placed a hand to her forehead to shade her eyes and look out over the empty ground behind the cabin. A car was approaching, she couldn't see it from here, of course. No roads led up to where her cabin was nestled. In the quiet of the woods, sound traveled a fair distance so she could hear the car's approach and she had a general idea who it might be. Most likely it was James Collin, captain of the police substation on the mountain.

With a small sigh, she grabbed her shotgun and moved to the front of the cabin, mounted the steps, and turned to face the small field in front of the cabin, allowing her butt to drop to the porch, her feet resting on the top stair. Her shotgun remained beside her in the event it wasn't the captain. From inside the cabin came a canine whine and a smile touched her lips.

"You stay inside," she told the dog.

The dog whined once more before falling silent.

Several minutes passed before a tall male form came striding out of the trees. It was James, all six foot two inches of the former army officer and her protector. Not that she wanted or needed a protector. She had Slate after all. The dog whined again as if he understood her thoughts. For whatever reason, James had appointed himself to the role of protector and he came up here at least once a month to check in on her. Whether she wanted him to or not.

His hands settled on the belt at his hips and his lips kicked up into a smile as he came to a stop at the bottom of the steps. "Evening, Chloe, how are you?"

"Fine, Captain," she responded in a clipped voice. They were friends, but he tended to become overprotective and it irked her. Her irritation is what led her to call him by his title instead of his name.

His hands dropped from his belt as he rocked back onto his heels, eyes scanning the area around the cabin as if he were searching for any hidden danger. "Anything doing up here?"

"You know perfectly well nothing is 'doing' up here. I keep telling you that you don't need to come and check on me. I can take care of myself; I've been doing it since I was twelve."

A grimace appeared on his face. "You don't think I know that?"

With a shrug, she stood, ignoring the undertone of anger in his voice. She knew the anger wasn't with her, not really, it stemmed from the fact that she remained up here alone. He could be as angry as he liked, her reasons for her living situation were her own and she wasn't about to share them.

"Doesn't matter what you know, I don't need, nor do I want, a babysitter. I am up here by myself for a reason."

"A reason you refuse to share with anyone," he grumbled beneath his breath, just loud enough for her to overhear him.

"Yes, sir, now you have yourself a good day, Captain." Without another word, she stood and left, closing the door to the cabin behind her. She didn't need to peer out the window to be certain he would leave, he always did. This was a regular argument between them.

Her head dropped forward, her chin hitting her chest as she sighed. From the moment James took over as Captain, he'd made it his mission to poke his nose into her life. The man didn't seem to know how to mind his damn business. For eight years now she'd lived on this mountain and for the past six, he had pestered her. She was twenty, not a child any longer and she didn't need his interference. Though she had to admit, he'd done it in a good-natured friendly way, more in the manner of a nosey, overprotective big brother, than that of an officer of the law. James never pestered her about her past. Never asked her any questions, though she had the feeling he'd like to. He'd simply taken it upon himself to look out for her. That was the only reason she didn't chase him off with the business end of her shotgun. He may come up here to check on her, but he didn't try and strong-arm her. He never tried to talk her into moving into town. He never did more than come and make certain she was all right.

She gave her head a small shake, dismissing James from her mind and shoved away from the door, stalking across the single room of the cabin. Her home wasn't large, but it was comfortable.

An open living room, a small kitchen at the back of the room, separated from the living room by the low breakfast bar with stools in front of it. In the opposite corner from the kitchen was her bedroom, separating it from the rest of the room was a hanging curtain. Between the kitchen and her bedroom on the back wall was the door that led to the bathroom. A large fireplace took up most of the sidewall to the right of the door, warming the room when she needed it. Beside the door to the left on the front wall was a set of built-in bookcases. Bookcases that could wrap around the corner and take up the sidewall should she need more space.

It was cozy and it was home.

When she'd first run away, she lived in a tent she'd taken from the garage at home. That first winter had been bitterly cold, as had each one after that until she had the cabin. If it hadn't been for the camping trips that she'd taken with her father she wouldn't have the skills to survive. She owed a lot to her father. Her eyes swept over the little cabin once more before she moved behind the curtain, dropping down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on her face. Thoughts of those camping trips brought a flood of memories, as they always did, and not all of them pleasant.

The memories assailed her, pressing heavily on her mind until she couldn't avoid them any longer and she allowed them in. Not reminiscing, but thinking about things, the things that ended up sending her to this mountain to live a solitary life.

She glanced over her shoulder, her mother was still in the kitchen preparing dinner, the phone receiver balanced on her shoulder as she spoke to a friend. If she hurried, maybe she could turn on the TV and find the program the other kids at school had been talking about. Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she stared at the television.

Perhaps, if she hit the button very quickly it wouldn't get hurt.

As quietly as she could, she crept forward, stopping in front of the television, checking over her shoulder one last time to see if her mother was still in the kitchen. Still occupied with preparing dinner and her phone conversation. Chloe stabbed one stubby finger at the power button. Nothing happened. Her small, five-year-old face scrunched up and she poked at it again. Still nothing. Worriedly, she glanced at the kitchen door again. Her mother's voice was clear, she was still on the phone. She knew exactly what would happen if she'd hurt the TV, her mama would yell at her.

Quickly, she moved away from the television and back to her dolls where they lay on the floor several feet away. She couldn't hurt those 'cause they didn't use eleticidy that's what her daddy told her. He said the eleticidy was the problem. She didn't know what that word meant, but she knew that her mama told her daddy if she broke one more TV she was in big trouble. Her lower lip trembled at the thought of getting into trouble. She didn't like being in trouble. Her daddy never yelled, he always told her it wasn't her fault when she hurt the things that used eleticidy, but her mama didn't agree. She usually made a snorting noise and stomped from the room. She stared down at her dolly, tears in her eyes, she was the cause of a lot of arguments between her mama and daddy. Her lip trembled again.

"Chloe, what are you doing?" her mother called as she came out of the kitchen.

"Nuffin', pwaying dollies." She held up a doll to show her mama.

"Good, your father should be home from work soon," her mother said as she took a seat on the couch, scooping up the TV remote as she sat down. Nothing happened when she punched the power button. There was no confusion on her face, she didn't punch the button repeatedly in an attempt to bring it to life, didn't stop to check the batteries, instead, she turned a glare on her daughter.

"Did you touch the television?"

When her lower lip set to trembling again, she quickly clamped it between her teeth and shook her head before finally speaking. "No, Mama, you told me never to touch it."

"Do not lie to me!" her mother screamed.

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and she hugged her doll to her chest. "I wanted to see—"

"I don't want to hear any of your excuses! You know you are not allowed to touch the television! That makes, what, six of them now? Go to your room!"

She quietly gathered up her dollies and walked slowly to her room.

Later, when her father arrived home, she heard them screaming at one another as her mother ranted about the TV. Yelling about how she was nothing but a curse. Her daddy attempted to calm her mother down. Daddy always stood up for her, but mama never listened. The screaming continued. She curled up on her bed, hugging her favorite dolly, and cried until she fell asleep.

Chloe sat up, burying her face in her hands, blinking away the tears as she fought back the memories of the past. She hated remembering those days, hated remembering the way her mother looked at her. The way she accused her of being a curse. Something they couldn't be rid of.

She sighed, it hadn't been only her mother, it seemed as if everyone shunned her. In school, none of the other kids wanted to be friends with her because of what all of the parents called her affliction. Word traveled fast, once a single person heard of what she could do, everyone seemed to know. While some of the kids may have wanted to be friends with her out of curiosity, the parents were the problem, they considered her a danger and because of that, the children were not allowed to talk to her or befriend her. As if her little disorder was contagious. She snorted.

Her fingers flexed curling and uncurling. She killed electronics, plain and simple. One-touch and no matter the device, it would never work again. If it had an electrical system of any kind it died. Nothing could fix it and there was no way for her to be rid of her curse. Trying to cover her hands did nothing, no matter how thick the gloves, the curse broke through.

She never owned an iPod, a hand-held gaming device, a cell phone, or used a computer. She could ride in a car as long as she never touched it, but she could never drive one. One finger and it would instantly die, killing the battery meant no way to start it. The curse seemed to be contained in her hands. It was her touch that did things in.

Her cabin was free from electricity. No refrigerator. Her stove was wood burning and she used lanterns and candles for light. She'd retreated to the day of the pioneers. Beneath the cabin was a small cellar where she kept her food stores. It was much cooler than up in her cabin, but it certainly wasn't a refrigerator. However, she had managed to use a bit of modern technology to improve her food storage. She lay back down, rolling to her side, tucking her hands beneath her cheek.

Down in the cellar, she dug a pit and lined it with the largest cooler she was able to purchase. She also bought a bunch of those reusable icepacks. Of course, she couldn't freeze them solid, but when she floated them in the river near her home, they did become very cold. It was the best she could do with what she had. At least during the winter months, there was a ready supply of snow that could be used to keep things chilled.

Despite her improvements to her food storage, she still dried and salted most of her meat. It made it tough, dry, and well, salty, but she made do. She couldn't complain much, after all, she could do as she pleased. There was no one yelling at her or teasing her. She was free to live her life as she chose to.

A memory poked at her when the word teasing passed through her mind.

Cambria Rebecka Talbot. Another memory she wanted nothing to do with. Cambria and her little group of friends made her brief attendance at middle school a living hell. They teased and bullied her every chance they got. The last incident with Cambria and her friends was one she didn't care to remember, but it was always there waiting to strike. Forgetting was impossible, so she let her mind relive that day.

The cafeteria food was lousy, not that it was ever good. She'd eaten only a few bites, mostly she poked and picked at what was on her tray, where she sat at her usual table in the corner. Alone. Several tables to her right, she could hear Cambria and her friend giggling as they pointed in her direction, none of them making any attempt at being inconspicuous. She ignored them because acknowledging them in any possible way only encouraged them and they certainly didn't need any encouragement. Cambria's volume increased as if she decided everyone within hearing needed to know exactly what she was saying. The girl seemed to need to be the center of attention at all times. Narcissistic bitch.

Cambria shot a look in Chloe's direction, an evil little grin on her face.

She ignored the other girl, eyes fixed on her tray as if she couldn't hear what the bitch was saying.

"I mean, just look at her, even her mother hates her. At least that's what I've heard." She leaned closer to her friends, though her volume didn't decrease any. "I've heard she has some sort of genetic defect. Can you really blame her mom? I mean she's such a freak! Who would want to be related to that?"

The girls at her table dissolved into giggles. Cambria the loudest of the bunch.

Slowly, Chloe rose, dumped her leftover food into the trashcan, and moved closer to the table where the girls sat. As she did, Cambria rose gracefully from her seat, grinning at Chloe as if she expected some sort of confrontation. Like she was stupid enough to openly challenge Cambria. Instead, she plastered a smile on her face and brushed past the other girl. No words were exchanged and she ignored the triumphant look on Cambria's face. However, she did make certain her fingers brushed over the brand-new cell phone that sat on the edge of the table where Cambria had been sitting. It was petty and stupid, but she didn't care. Besides, Cambria's parents were filthy rich, and they'd buy their sweet little princess a new one the moment she teared up and told them her phone had quit working. Cambria always got everything she wanted the moment she asked. She was popular, pretty, captain of the cheer squad, and of course her boyfriend was just as popular and captain of the basketball team. The girl had everything and then some. It had probably been her goal to get rid of Chloe and she'd gotten that too.

As the memory of that day faded Chloe rolled from her little bed and went to the fireplace, shoving logs into the hungry flames. As the flames ate at the wood, they consumed the memories. The night would be chilly, so she added a couple of extra logs and sat back with a deep sigh.

Two weeks after that incident in the cafeteria she'd run away from home, leaving everything behind. All of the pointing, staring, and talking behind her back. She hated all of it. Hated being on the outside of a world that loved its electronic devices. She turned her head, looking around, her deep brown eyes passed over the things in her small cabin, she realized she was much better off here, on her mountaintop. There was no one here to point and stare. No one that cared about her affliction. It was peaceful. The only other soul she had to worry about was Slate and he was easy. You fed him, gave him attention when he wanted it and the dog was content.

After she ran, this is where she'd come, the one place that held happy memories for her. The place she and her father came to camp when she'd been a child. One time he told her when he had the money, he'd buy this spot and build a home for the two of them to come to. It would be perfect for her, with no electricity. It would be her place, where she could get away from everything and live her life. A place where she would feel free and safe.

Now she had that place, even if she didn't have her dad.

The captain found some way for her to remain here, to make the land hers. She didn't have any idea what he'd done, he never explained. If she were honest with herself, she didn't want to know if he'd paid for it himself, she didn't want to be beholden to him. After all, she'd been twelve when she began squatting here. Even if the people in town hadn't known where she came from, they sort of claimed her for their own and helped as much as they could. She smiled at that.

They never turned her over to the authorities when they showed up to try and pull her from the mountain. Instead, they hid her, moving her from house to house to keep Child Protective Services from finding her and putting her into the system. She couldn't say how the authorities discovered her presence on the mountain, but they'd come searching for the little girl who lived alone on the mountaintop. Her parents had never reported her missing as far as she knew. Not that she'd expected her mother to make any effort to find the daughter she despised. It hurt that her father hadn't done anything to find her.

After some time passed, the social workers simply gave up in frustration. They had better things to do than track down ghosts. She appreciated everything the townspeople did. It didn't mean she told them her story, and no one knew her full name. It kept them from being able to track down her parents. To the people in town, she was simply Chloe. The girl she'd been before she ran away was no more, Chloe Phillips was gone. She preferred being simply Chloe, it was a lot less complicated. The townspeople respected her privacy. No one questioned her, even if they may have secretly wanted to know her story. Most figured she'd run away from an abusive home and no one would send her back into a situation like that if they could prevent it. It was certainly an odd predicament, but it was how things worked out.

When she'd gotten a bit older, she began hunting on her own to supplement her food supplies. Her father had taught her a bit about hunting on their camping trips, the rest of the information came from books. She took the furs into town and traded them or sold them so she could get things she needed that she couldn't procure on her own.

Shortly after she began hunting, the townspeople showed up en masse to help build the cabin. It stunned her a bit they would put themselves out like that. Later, she discovered James put them up to it. It was soon after that he began his little trips up the mountain to check on her. He had mentioned at the time it was a shame he couldn't get approval to run electrical lines up the mountain. She had no desire to tell him she'd prefer not to have electricity. She'd left one family behind and gained another in the townspeople. This new family knew nothing of her curse. Whether they would be as welcoming if they did, she didn't want to find out.

She stood with a sigh, turning away from the fire, and headed for the kitchen. Some food, a shower, and then perhaps she'd sit by the fire and read for a bit, and after that, bed. The brown of her eyes reflected the dancing flames of the fire as she turned to glance at the wall beside the door where her books took up residence. Through the stories between those covers, she could see the entire world, experience things she could never see and do in real life. Someday she would pack those shelves full of books. Right now, they were only about half full.

When she was old andgray. Very old and gray. And still very much alone in this world.