But the worst thing was that he didn’t even know if he truly wanted to move to a big city anyway. Accustomed to having nature on his doorstep and plenty of space he didn’t have to pay in blood for, he might never get used to the noise and pace of life in a place like Cracow.
So maybe he was dirt-poor, lonely, and his future didn’t hold any promise, but at least he could go skinny-dipping in the nearby lake, or take long horse rides in the dense forests that smelled of moss, pine, and rain. Because when he was on his own or with people who treated him well, he didn’t feel stuck at all. The sun greeted him each morning and kissed his cheek goodnight, and when grass tickled him between the toes, he knew that his soul was bound to these mountains, and he would never find happiness anywhere else.
Without Radek to keep him occupied, Emil’s thoughts drifted to the handsome tourist Jinx had scared last night, and he glanced toward the church. He could inquire about Adam—just a bit of small-town courtesy extended to a lost stranger, but his mood was still grim, and he chose the safety of his home, with its thatch, small windows framed with blue paint, and his animals.
But all hopes for a quiet morning of moping dispersed when he spotted a dark green pickup truck parked in the narrow passage between his backyard and the woods.
He left the bike by the dirt road and pushed the low wooden gate open with his foot, entering the property. His chickens walked about undisturbed, but the moment he approached the coop, the door of his meat shed opened, and Filip Koterski emerged in his green forest ranger outfit.
“Hey. You looking for something?” Emil asked, but his blood was running cold already.
“I didn’t know you had a smokehouse,” Filip said, stuffing his hands down his pockets. He was handsome, in an average kind of way, with thick black hair, and a tan he’d gotten from constantly being outdoors. The triangular birthmark on his left cheek was the size of a small coin and an asset rather than a flaw, since it made him stand out from other averagely-handsome men around.
And despite the unease creeping under Emil’s skin, he couldn’t help but notice the things that had attracted him to Filip in the first place. “I would have showed it to you if you asked,” he said, unhappy about someone—even a hook-up—snooping around his homestead. He could have sworn he’d locked the smokehouse with a padlock. Had he forgotten?
“Would you though? Where’d you get the boar?”
Emil frowned. “Oh, come on, you know where I got the boar,” he said, gesturing at the forest
Filip clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Poaching is illegal.”
Were they seriously having this conversation? On the day of Radek’s departure from Emil’s life? “You know I stick to the rules. I never let animals suffer, never endanger the young or hunt out of season.”
Filip gave a theatrical sigh. “Still, no licence. You aren’t a member of the Hunters’ Association.”
“I can’t afford it right now,” Emil said, struggling to keep his cool in the face of such rudeness. Filip knew very well such things weren’t uncommon in the area, so why would he target him of all people, when they actually knew one another quite well?
“Then you can’t hunt,” Filip said, stepping back into the smokehouse, only to emerge with a whole string of homemade sausages hanging off his forearm. Blood left Emil’s head and added weight to his fists.
“Really? You’d rather see me starve than look the other way a couple times?”
Filip dropped the sausages Emil had worked so hard on into an open plastic box he must had placed in the middle of the yard earlier. In that moment, Emil wished he had a dog, so he could sic it on this treacherous bastard.
Filip looked up. “The law’s the law. Consider it a warning. I won’t notify anyone, and make this my wedding gift.”
Emil’s brain hollowed despite the anger still simmering in his blood. “What wedding?”
“Next month. My bride, Judyta, isn’t originally from here, but you’ll meet her soon enough. Gotta have a good relationship with the forest ranger’s wife.”
Emil shook his head. “What are you talking about? I sucked your dick, like, three weeks ago.”
Filip rolled his eyes. “So? I was experimenting.”
Emil couldn’t comprehend what was happening around him anymore. Filip had gotten weird toward him last year, after his father died, but this really took the cake.
“What, for the past three years? But… it’s none of my business. I don’t need to know. But can’t you just lay off on the sausage? For old times’ sake.”
Filip smirked. “Maybe I could turn a blind eye if you invited me in?” he asked, taking a wider stance, as if he wanted to draw Emil’s attention to his crotch.
Son of a bitch.
“I don’t fuck cheaters. And for your information, I also don’t fuck thieves, so you might as well take that sausage and never show your face here again.”
Filip rolled his eyes, but grabbed the box of Emil’s blood, sweat, and tears. “Fine. Suit yourself. And for the record, you’re not invited to the wedding.”
Emil clenched his fists because his hand was far too close to an axe as he watched Filip load the meats and sausage into the back of his pickup. “Congratulate the bride from me then. Hope you two are very happy as you munch on someone else’s sausage.”
Filip snorted and got into the driver’s seat. “I could have reported this, you know? I’m basically doing you a favor.”
Emil bit his tongue this time, unwilling to waste his breath on the piece of shit. Once Filip was gone, he did grab the axe and started chopping wood, because he needed to channel his fury somewhere, but every log he split seemed to make his anger worse.
He was a rabid bear trapped in a cage called Dybukowo, and on some days, his belly was full, his play needs sated, and the sun shone at his fur through the metal bars, but right now, he could’ve rammed his skull against them time and time again in a desperate attempt to escape.
If he had money, getting that meat taken wouldn’t have been such a huge deal, just a waste of his time and effort, but as it stood, the sausages had already been spoken for and he’d need to tell Mrs. Sarnowicz that he wouldn’t be able to deliver. Which landed him back in square one when it came to paying off his debt for her husband repairing his thatched roof last winter.
The village was a web of sticky, unpleasant connections, and he was the fly helplessly trying to wriggle its way out. But he wasn’t willing to give up yet.
“Shoo!” he yelled at the crows gathering on the roof of his house and mocking him with their screeching. He was so used to their presence by now he wouldn’t have minded them following him everywhere if they didn’t shit all over. Most often—in his homestead.
Maybe Radek was right, and Emil could leave this place. Filip had been so triumphant over his discovery that he hadn’t noticed the trapdoor leading to a small cellar under the meat shed. And since the local pastor loved the liquor infusions Emil made following his granddad’s recipe, maybe there was a chance to secure some cash and sweeten this shitty day.
Pastor Marek wasn’t a bad guy, but he often criticized Emil for his looks, so Emil tied his mane into a braid, and changed into a plain black top that covered his tattoos, so his taste in heavy metal didn’t offend priestly sensibilities. He was about to leave his home when it hit him that there was a sliver of chance that he’d bump into Adam at the parsonage, so he ended up staying a bit longer to shave and splash on some cologne for good measure. He would not give up on this day so easily.