Page 23 of Daddy of the Mountain

"Optional?" That caught my attention. My fork paused halfway to my mouth.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat, looking almost... uncomfortable? "If you feel anxious or restless—or stressed—you let me know and we’ll try what worked last night. Littlespace."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, spreading fast and hot. I darted my eyes down to the doll sitting innocently beside my plate,its carved features simple but somehow comforting. "That’s . . . Thank you."

"It’s just another way to help you relax. If you need it." His words were clipped, but there was no mistaking the care woven into them.

"Okay." My voice came out softer this time. Quiet. I set my fork down, folding my hands in my lap. "I’ll try to stick to the rules."

“Youwillstick to the rules.” His voice had a warning edge, but his eyes softened when they locked on mine. “I have some more. Theses are a little more fun.”

He handed me a sheet of paper and I read, my heart pitter-pattering excitedly in my chest. He’d outlined a bedtime routine (tooth brushing, washing, story) had said I needed to ask him (Daddy) for permission to use the bathroom or get food. There were rules for manners and self care, and a requirement for honesty and no judgement. And there was one rule that made me squirm.

“You get to choose my panties?”

“Damn straight. If you’re okay with it?”

I felt the heat in my cheeks. “I think it could work.”

“Good. I appreciate you’re already dressed today. So we’ll start that tomorrow.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

"Good girl." The words slipped out low, almost under his breath, but they hit their mark. My cheeks burned hotter, my pulse skittering like a startled rabbit. He reached for his mug again like nothing had happened, taking a slow sip of coffee. "There's just one more important rule."

"What is it?"

"When you're better and the snow is safe, you head back down the mountain, and you go back to your old life."

My heart pounded. "But what if—"

"No ifs, no buts. This is no life for someone like you. Think of this as a vacation, alright? From real life. But you have to go back."

"Okay, Daddy."

I picked up the doll, turning it over in my hands to avoid meeting his gaze. The rough wood felt grounding, solid beneath my fingertips.

"Now eat your breakfast," he said, tone lighter now, almost teasing. "Can’t have you breakin’ another rule before we even start the day."

*

After breakfast, I read. Silas though, was busy.

“I’m heading out on a hunt,” he said. He stood by the door, rifle slung over one broad shoulder. He was already bundled in his coat and boots, his dark hair brushing against the fur-lined hood. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, voice low but firm. The kind that didn’t invite argument.

“Do you have to go alone?” I asked before I could stop myself. My fingers gripped the edge of the quilt draped over my lap. “What if something happens?”

“Don’t do anything naughty while I’m gone.” His tone was teasing, but there was steel underneath it. He waited for my reply, standing half in and half out of the doorway.

“I won’t,” I said quickly, trying to sound like I meant it.

He didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, he gave a small grunt, more to himself than to me, and stepped outside. The door shut softly behind him. And then he was gone.

The quiet settled in fast. Too fast. I shifted on the bed, adjusting the quilt around me. For a while, it wasn’t so bad. I poured myself a mug of tea from the kettle Silas had left near the stove, the steam curling up and warming my face. I took slow sips, letting the heat spread through me. The carved doll sat onthe table nearby, watching silently as I picked up the old book again.

The story was simple, comforting in its way. I traced the faded illustrations with my fingertips, imagining how many hands had done the same before mine. It should’ve been enough to keep me calm, to pass the time until Silas came back. But it wasn’t.

Restlessness crept in like an itch I couldn’t scratch. My eyes kept drifting to the window, where the snow lay thick and untouched. Somewhere out there, Silas was trudging through it, hunting. Providing. Doing something. Meanwhile, I was stuck here, useless.

---