“Even though I’m too old to talk to you anymore it’s just nice to have someone around.” Krista whispers from under her comforter.

I nod and gleam a smile. Her father does his third round of lock checking around the cabin. He anxiously murmurs to himself, rifle strung around his back.

Krista, playing her part hides under her comforter with her Cinderella duffel bag. She explains to me it’s her ‘go bag’ and that only big girls can handle carrying their own. That’s the Krista I know, confident, self assured and a bit bragadocious. She talks to me in a padantic way. Explaining all of these occurrences as if they’re perfectly normal.

Her father roughly comes into the room, his headlight shines up the whole room in a stark white light.

“Good job baby girl. But if that was real you gotta be prepared to leave.” Her father explains, turning off his headlight and sitting on the edge of the ancient bed frame.

“But… I was ready…… and Petalflower is too!” Krista exclaims, exasperatedly crawling out from under the comforter.

Her father lets out a withered chuckle. “I’m gonna be out hunting and setting traps from sun up to afternoon at least. I need you to be brave. Don’t open the door for a soul. No curtains open either.” Her father warns, suddenly losing and chuckling in place of steely anxiety.

“Yes Sir!” Krista responds back giving her dad a hug.

“Alright hun, get some rest. I’ll wake you up around 4 abouts to check the locks.” He says halfheartedly hugging back his daughter.

After her father leaves Krista launches back into excited whispers.

“Ya hear that Petalflower? He said I did a good job!” Krista asks tucking herself in, her eyes still alight with life.

I nod in my mute fashion. Krista explained to me in her usual tone that having a talking friend would make her father upset and scared. She didn’t want to go up further in the mountains. She said our lodge at the base of the mountain was “alonely already”. As she drifts off I look at her with a sad smile. I don’t know much about life, but this isn’t a full one.

After 4 am lock checks Krista starts her day. Her small form moves through the lodge like a mini adult. Even though she barely taller than the counters she grabs some deer jerky and a soft looking peach for her breakfast. She sits at the dusty bay window. She looks out longingly at the frozen over pond just west of the cabin. Even though it’s March the snow hasn’t let up.

“I’m sorry I don’t think you can swim today.” Krista tells me in a sympathetic voice. I nod and tussle her hair. She starts to braid mine. Today it’s as long as the bay window and purple. Last week it was a pink shoulder length cut. Which Krista assured me was all the rage.

And thus our routine settled into itself. Krista finished breakfast and got changed out of her knee length nightgown. It used to be pink at one point. But from age it’s faded to a pale gray. Krista insists it’s perfect. She says it’s fate we found it at the lodge. Krista puts on a pair of corduroy pants they also found in the lodge, a pink wool sweater that goes past her knees and a matching pair of pink socks.

This unfortunately is the most interesting part of the day. We kinda just putz around. Krista attempts to connect the booster again but all she gets is TV static and the occasional frame of Tom and Jerry. Following the same song and dance, Krista explores the lodge I’m not sure for what but she always comes back with a toy or two. Although most are made up of hard faded plastic and pointy metal.

She assures me that toys at her house are soft like dogs and cats and that her dolls are all brand new.

By noon she is laying on the cool wood next to the couch. This is the most boring part of her already somewhat stagnant schedule and well, life.

She assures me that life off the mountain isn’t like this, that there are grocery stores that give you meat without hunting, toy stores, that always have something new. This is all conveyed from rambling and tangents. At first I struggled to maintain interest, but just like Krista, the outside world excites me.

Krista is still giggling about a cat she met at her friends house “Her whiskers, they tickled!” She shouts in a fit of giggles.

Then with a loud crack the front door swings open. It’s her father, gun in hand and camouflaged everywhere else.

“Krista! Where’s your bag? We need to go, come on now!” Her father shouts impatiently. He grabs the car keys and start his long stationary Toyota.

Krista bounces up and runs for her room so fast that even floating she can barely keep up.

“Alright Petalflower.” She starts her face steely with determination. “This is called moving. It happens a lot but I thought we had time.” She continues grabbing her duffel. Wasting no time she wipes her eyes. The few tears she has sucked back in a sniffle. Grabbing her layered coat and wool gloves she starts for the car.

“Good girl.” Her father says when she throws her self into the back row of the truck. Despite her tears she nods at her father then to me. Its the first time this has happened to me but I feel a sense of familiarity in it all. After all, I do come from Krista’s mind.