"Hide Louisa" are the last words I can recall. Words that echoed for years after the tragedy of my husband's gruesome demise.
I will never forget that cold winter afternoon in the cabin Richard inherited from his father. Although it had only been three months since my miscarriage. It was insufferable.
He thought it would have been nice, that was the exact word he used "nice" , to get out of the city and enjoy the peacefulness of the wilderness. The sight was impeccable, I was in awe.
"He was right" I thought. As we arrived my eyes trailed the glistening snow, to the Douglas fir framed cabin with an odd red door, a golden door knob and two large glossy casement windows.
We rushed inside from the cold, leaving the door slightly cracked. As I made my way to the bedroom with our bags, Richard entered the kitchen.
Suddenly, through the cracked door came three wolves. Pinning Richard to the floor. Completely shocked I froze. Then there it was, the last words of my husband, "Hide Louisa"...