Chapter Text
Izuku paid careful attention as he drove around the last corner heading home as the trees were thick up here in the mountains of the Yukon. Just last week he’d hit a deer that had suddenly dashed out in front of him. Thankfully, his truck had fared alright. The deer wasn’t so lucky. In fact, he had the majority of its meat all neatly packaged up in two coolers stashed in the bed of his old white pickup. The local butcher had been all too happy to work it up for him and Izuku even let the old guy keep some.
Soon enough, a driveway appeared. It led to his small cabin, set back from the road and surrounded by trees. The actual road itself continued on for a bit, leading to an old logging camp higher up on the mountain. The place no longer saw any use, but the road remained mostly for Izuku, park rangers, and the occasional hunter or hiker.
Parking alongside the cabin, Izuku hopped out of his beat-up old truck. Pushing the coolers down towards the tailgate, he hefted up the first one and started carrying it to the front door. It wasn’t locked - why would it be? He lived about 15 miles from the nearest little town - emphasis on little - and hardly anyone came out this way. Those who did might need a place to escape a bear or something, so he just left it open. He didn’t have much worth stealing anyway, he lived a pretty simple life.
Getting the door open, he stepped inside. The cabin itself was small and rustic - just over 500 square feet with four basic rooms. Izuku’s great grandfather had built it back when the logging industry was strong. There were several like it dotting the mountainside around here, though only this one was still maintained and lived in year-round. His grandfather had used it for camping trips mostly, the family having moved several hours away by then. The old man had even updated the place to have power and water back in the 70’s. Izuku used to come on hunting and camping trips with his grandfather and father as a kid. It was filled with generations of memories. And then when Izuku’s father had suddenly passed away a few years ago, the cabin was left to him.
Izuku had been living here for going on four years now, and had made a ton of updates. He’d installed a washer and dryer, a new water heater, new windows, and more. He’d fixed the fireplace and chimney, and done some better insulating all around. The winters up here were long and brutal, but the cabin managed to stay warm and cozy as long as you kept a fire going in the hearth.
The front door of the cabin opened into a combined space with a living room and kitchen. There was a large fireplace, a sofa and coffee table, a small TV, built-in shelving lined with generations of books and knick knacks, and a thick, hand-woven rug that was definitely older than he was. The kitchen was small but functional. It had a fridge, sink, stove, and enough storage and counter space to get by. There was also a little dining table and two chairs shoved against the wall, the other chairs lost to time and his own hefty body.
He put the cooler on the table and then went back for the other one still in his truck. He didn’t have freezer space for all this meat, so he’d have to cook up a bunch of it and make jerky with the rest. He stored what he could in the freezers and then sorted out the rest into what he’d grill and what he’d dry.
Mumbling to himself, he walked into the little spare room at the back of the cabin. It held the laundry stuff, utilities, another freezer, lots of storage, and a workbench where he did wood carvings and other projects in the winter. When it was warm, he preferred to do that kind of stuff outside. There was a door to the backyard and he glanced out the window as a few birds zipped past.
His backyard was less a yard and more like a patch of mostly-cleared space surrounded by dense woods. The ground was strewn with pine needles and leaves and little scrabbly patches of grass and weeds. He had cut back enough of the trees and undergrowth to create a fairly large habitable area out there, but it was hardly a lush green patch of yard like you’d see in town. Now that it was warmer out, he’d strung up a hammock and brought out his rocking chair so he could whittle without caring about making a mess.
For now, he grabbed the dehydrator off one of the shelves and hauled it back to the kitchen. He sliced up a ton of the deer meat and put it in bags with a well-seasoned marinade. He prepped a couple of steaks for dinner too, along with some other cuts he could cook up on the grill and keep in the fridge for a while. He was set on meat for a long time, that was sure. He’d be eating venison for months. Steaks, burgers, sausage, chili, stew, jerky...delicious. And cheap too, considering the butcher had knocked off some of the price since Izuku let him keep a good amount. The deer he’d hit had been a big one, after all.
The butcher had joked that Izuku intentionally hit the deer, which he vehemently denied. While he could certainly use the meat, he’d never do something like that on purpose. It was just an accident. Pretty common in the Yukon too, since animals weren’t as used to human activity due to low populations and large stretches of wilderness uninhabited by man. Working up the meat was common too, since the deer was already dead and not much was allowed to go to waste up here. Food was food and winter would be here before you knew it.
Going outside, Izuku got the charcoal grill heating up and then went to get the meat he’d be cooking. He put it on the grill along with some foil-wrapped potatoes and other veggies. Then he rinsed out the coolers and propped them up outside to dry. After all that, he finally sat down with a sigh and a cold beer in his hand. He hadn’t grilled out in a few days, so it was nice to just sit in his rocking chair and sip a beer with the tasty smells wafting around him.
Izuku was a lumberjack by trade, though he rounded out his portfolio by selling firewood and wood carvings. His grandfather had taught him how to whittle in this very cabin as a kid, and Izuku loved it. He’d always enjoyed working with his hands, and he loved to turn a mere stick or hunk of wood into something beautiful or useful. Whistles, knife blocks, spoons, sculptures, toys, knife handles, jewelry boxes - you name it, he carved it and sold it. His favorite thing to carve was animals. Mostly as statues or little pendants for necklaces, but sometimes he added them as decorative flair for other pieces.
He sold his wares at the seasonal festivals in town, along with doing special orders. Combined with lumberjack work, it was enough to keep him afloat, especially since his expenses were low with a small home and ancient truck that were both long-since paid off.
Once the food was ready, he doused the grill and went back inside. He packaged up most of the food in the fridge to keep for later, but he left out one steak and some of the vegetables. Sitting at his little table, he ate in silence. He could probably turn on the TV or radio, but he didn’t mind the quiet. Sure, he got lonely sometimes, but he liked his little cabin in the woods. And it wasn’t like he was idle either, as he ate he also sketched out a rough design in his notebook. He was planning out his next project - a lamp base someone in town had commissioned him for. They wanted pine trees and bears, which was pretty vague. He’d never made a lamp base before, but he’d seen carved ones around before and figured he’d have a go at it.
After eating, he cleaned up before heading outside to sketch more ideas for the lamp, using the trees and nature around him for inspiration. It was quiet out in the middle of nowhere, but not completely. The trees creaked and talked, the birds sang, the wind whispered. Sometimes he’d hear something rooting around in the underbrush. It was peaceful.
That’s why he’d moved out here in the first place. After his parents died, he’d forgone college and just traveled around for a few years. Road tripping all over Canada and the United States. He met a lot of people and saw a lot of amazing places, but none of them were home. So he’d returned to the tip of the world here in the Yukon and started putting down roots. Now he was 26 years old, single, and happier than ever living in his little cabin out here in the middle of nowhere. He had plenty of space for his thoughts and could do whatever he wanted. Though living alone didn't come without its own drawbacks. Being on his own all the time meant he’d eventually picked up the bad habit of talking - well, mumbling - out loud to himself.
Finishing up his last sketch as the sun started to sink behind the mountains, Izuku stood up and went back inside. Tossing his notebook onto the workbench, he decided to leave the actual carving until tomorrow. He’d have to pick out the right piece of wood and it was too dark for that now.
Heading back into the kitchen, he pulled out the marinating meat and started placing the little strips onto the dehydrator’s trays. Once it was running, he ambled into his bedroom. It was fairly small like everything else inside, but held a decent bed - he was 6’5'' and well-built, so he always insisted on a big bed - a dresser, and two bedside tables. The tables and dresser were littered with various projects he’d completed, since he didn’t really have enough storage in the workroom to keep them all.
A door from the bedroom led into the small bathroom, which held the bare essentials of a sink, toilet, and shower. Nothing fancy, but they all worked and he kept it clean. After taking a piss, he washed his hands and examined his beard in the mirror. It was starting to get a little shaggy, so he made a mental note to tidy it up in the morning. In the winter, he could get away with looking like Grizzly Adams, but in the spring and summer he tried to look a bit more civilized.
Most of his coworkers had beards too, but Izuku never liked for his to get too long or messy. Despite living alone in the woods, he liked to keep himself fairly cleancut and neat. At least as much as he could, considering how he made his living cutting down trees and getting filthy all day. His mother had always had a thing for cleanliness, and old habits die hard.
Back out in the living room, Izuku sank down on the couch and picked up his most recent book. It was from the library, since he’d read everything in the cabin already. He had a little TV that sat on the mantle, but he rarely watched it since the reception wasn’t great out here. He only got a few local channels and mostly used it for the weather report. TVs just invited laziness. Instead of carving or keeping busy in the winter, he’d just watch TV and rot his brain if he wasn’t careful. That’s what his grandfather had always said anyway, and Izuku was inclined to believe him after seeing the nature of most peoples’ downtime.
It was a quiet night, but a comfortable one. A bit lonely, but he was used to it at this point. People often recommended that he get a girlfriend or at least a pet. He had no interest in girls, and he didn’t have many other options. Not many gay lumberjacks up here, or even gay men at all really. He was sure some existed in the various nearby towns, but they kept it under wraps and he didn't want to go rocking the boat for anyone or himself. And thanks to the long hours of his job and the danger of wild animals, he didn’t have a pet either. He’d love a cat, but the poor thing would probably get eaten by a bear or something.
Once he tired of reading, he stripped off his work clothes and got into the shower. It was a tight fit, but he’d repositioned the showerhead when he’d moved in, so at least he was able to stand under the flow of water. Back when multiple people had stayed here at once, he’d always had to take short showers to conserve water. The cabin had a well, but only so much could be warmed up at a time. Now that he lived alone though, he could be more leisurely about it.
And that was a good thing, because Izuku was often pent up and jerking off in the shower somehow seemed less depressing than doing it in his big, empty bed. It’d been a long time since he’d had a lover, so his mind conjured up a vague but common dream man instead. Blond, fit, shorter than himself. He never bothered with a face, he mostly focused on the dream man’s body and how it would feel to be inside him.
Cumming with a grunt, Izuku sighed and cleaned up his mess. Maybe he’d have to take a trip one of these days. Spend the weekend in a larger city or something and see if he could get lucky finding a willing guy in a bar. He knew it wouldn’t be anything long term, but even a brief tryst in a hotel room sounded good at this point. He’d done it before, but not for a year or so now. He was starting to get beyond pent up.
After his shower, Izuku went to bed early like always. Once the sun went down, there just wasn’t much to do. And he’d need to be well-rested for work in the morning anyway.
The next day, Izuku emptied the dehumidifier first thing. He packaged up most of the jerky to keep, but decided to bring some to work to share with his coworkers. They were a pretty tight crew, a byproduct of their dwindling industry. He’d been on the team for several years now and got along with everyone just fine. They looked out for each other and made sure to work safely. Logging was a dangerous business, but he thankfully had yet to see anything beyond a few minor injuries.
They used heavy machinery instead of axes for the most part, though Izuku preferred to chop trees by hand at home. It just felt better that way. Still, he was fully licensed for and comfortable with the equipment he used for work. Half his day was spent cutting trees and the other half was spent stacking and lining up logs for the skid loader to haul down to the trucks.
At lunch, he shared the jerky and it went over well. He ate a cold steak sandwich and some chips, shooting the shit with his coworkers and stretching out his sore muscles. They made good money and due to the harsh climate up here, had the worst months of the winter off. Now was their busy season though, so they enjoyed their mandated breaks while they got the chance.
It was a hard life at times, but it was worth it. He was happy here, fulfilled in his work and hobbies.
Originally, it’d taken a few months for him to really fit in. He was half-Canadian and half-Japanese: a rare sight in the Yukon, though certainly not in other parts of Canada. And while he’d visited the area a lot as a child and teenager, he wasn’t considered a local. After nearly four years here though, he’d made some friends and acquaintances. He got along with all his coworkers and several people in town no longer ostracized him for the sin of not being from around here. He’d tried to tell folks about his great grandfather who’d helped settle the original town, but that didn’t count for much when his last name was different and his only proof was the cabin he called home and vague childhood memories.
Like many kids these days, Izuku was the product of a divorce. His parents had met in college in Vancouver, where they lived after graduating and finding work. Izuku had come along shortly after they got married. He remembered happiness in the early years, but it had slowly faded. Eventually his dad took a job in Edmonton and his mom stayed in Vancouver. All of a sudden, Izuku got a new last name - his mother’s - and two Christmases. He spent summers with his dad, often going up to the cabin in the Yukon for a week or more to hike, hunt, and fish. Grandpa usually came too.
His mom had died when he was 19. Cancer. He’d dropped out of college to support her and take her to all the appointments and things. Once she was gone, he was lost. They didn’t have a house, just an apartment, so he’d ended up moving in with his dad. He never returned to school or even got a job. He mostly just chopped wood in the backyard for stress relief. It helped a lot.
Then his dad died in a car accident only a few months later. Some trucker couldn’t stop fast enough on an icy road and that was it. Izuku was alone. He’d sold his dad’s house to help cover expenses and because the place had never felt like home anyway. And then he took his dad’s old white pickup truck and just drove. He lived off the life insurance and house money for a couple years, cruising around Canada and the United States both. He’d wound up back in the Yukon just before the money ran out. With his dad and grandpa both gone, the old cabin was in his name now. So he’d moved in and decided to make a new life for himself. One he built with his own two hands, just like his great grandfather had.
He’d been lost for a long time. Alone for even longer. At least here, he knew what to expect. From the people, from the climate, from his job. He was content. And that was enough for now.
Folks asked him what was next sometimes. All of his coworkers were married or dating local girls, but he knew that wasn’t in the cards for him. So he fobbed off with stories that he liked his freedom and that he was just going with the flow. And he did like his freedom, he really did. But sometimes, late at night, he could admit that he wished he had a partner to share it with too.
Someone’s watch alarm went off and everyone grumbled and started packing up their stuff. Time to get back to work.
That night, Izuku came home and wandered around back to pick out a log for the lamp base. He froze halfway there.
The grill was tipped over, charcoal scattered all over the place. A few other things had been moved around too, including the coolers which had been knocked over and even his rocking chair was pointing the wrong way. Probably raccoons, since nothing seemed too damaged or anything. The last time he’d had a bear through here, the damn thing had broken into his well-sealed garbage can. That, at least, looked untouched this time.
With a sigh, he quickly set about cleaning everything up. He righted the grill and then scooped up the charcoal lumps and tossed them into his little fire pit. It was placed far enough away from the trees and cabin to be safe, with a solid ring of stones around it. Checking the coolers for damage, he stored them inside and then fixed up the other things that had been moved.
All that finished, he finally headed for the woodpile. Since he sold firewood, he chopped a ton of wood in late summer and fall, stacking it all up in neat rows at the edge of his yard. He held out the nicer pieces for carving, especially ones with good wood grain patterns.
It took some time to finally find one that was the right shape and size. Picking up the log, he carried it back towards the house. Dumping it on his outdoor workbench, he measured it and then grabbed his notebook and did some calculations. He was muttering, but nothing out here would care. People judged, but animals never did. Thankfully, it seemed like would be able to get a good start on the project, despite the little setback of having to play cleanup crew for his own backyard.
In a little bit, he’d go reheat some food and eat. For now though, he had work to do.
It took a few days to finish carving the lamp base. He had planned to do the final staining and lacquering outside, but it had rained overnight and his backyard was pretty damp and muddy. Opening the back door to grab some sandpaper he’d left out there, he froze. Smack dab in the middle of the mud a few feet from the door was a huge paw print he’d never seen before.
Rushing into the living room, he snatched up an old survival manual from the bookshelf and returned to the back door. He flipped through the tracking section and then paused suddenly, seeing a near-duplicate of the paw print from outside.
His eyes flashed to the top of the page.
Cougar.