The fog is clearing. There’s something in the distance. Land.
There are cracks in the ice, shaped like lightning. They are everywhere. I look down and they are getting bigger. Water is pouring through them, melting the snow covering the ice. There’s something beneath the ice. I bend forward, blinking to get the ice from my lashes. A face… I stare at my own drowning self. The ice cracks and I’m falling, falling into the depths, and - there is no water. I’m kneeling on the ice. No cracks. I must be going crazy.
I’m crawling. Not much further.
Land.
Somehow in my stupor, I know that I can’t lie down in the snow. I find a fallen tree. Bed. I collapse on it and surrender to the whiteness of winter.
Chapter 2
I‘m no longer cold. In fact, I’m nice and toasty. A little sore, but I’m alive.
Something soft is wrapped around me and heat is warming my face. I blink my eyes open. Orange and red burst through my vision. A fire is sitting in the middle of - where am I? I try to sit up, only to notice that I can’t move. Trapped! I panic. In my muddled state of mind, it takes me a minute to think of looking down at myself. I sigh in relief. I’m wrapped in furs, lots of them. I really rock the caterpillar look. I try and squeeze one arm out of the fur burrito, then the other, until I can finally sit up. I’m lying in the middle of a wooden room - wooden ceilings, wooden walls, a wooden floor, wooden shelves and furniture. It even smells of wood. Everything is brown and rustic, in a charming way. In the middle of the room is a fire pit. A little dangerous to have an open fire in a house made from wood, if you ask me. But it’s warm, so I don’t care. After last night, all I care about is no longer being cold.
I extract myself from the rest of the furs - and notice I’m in my underwear. Nothing but my underwear. Whoever put me in this cabin must have undressed me. I hope it was a girl. Really, really hope. No man has ever seen me naked. It’s not proper. I frantically look around the cabin for something to cover myself in - something that isn’t furs. As warm as they are, I’m already getting sweaty from the heat. Behind the fireplace is a large window (with a wooden frame, of course), looking out into a snowy landscape. The house seems to be at the edge of a forest. There aren’t many forested islands; I’ve never seen that many trees in one place.
Icicles hang outside the glass, beautiful and deadly. I once treated a patient who was hit on the head by an icicle, and have had a healthy respect for them ever since. To my left is a table and matching chairs, seemingly made from hand. And there, on the table, are my clothes, neatly folded. I’ve never been so happy in all my life to see clothes. They’re nothing special, but they cover.
After I’ve put them on, I continue my exploration. There are two doors opposite each other. One of them must lead outside, judging from the mud splatters on the floor in front of it. I have no desire to go out into the cold again, so I decide to investigate the rest of the house. The other door leads to a small kitchen - if you can call a camping stove, a wobbly cupboard and a few plates stacked on the floor a kitchen. Let’s call it a cooking room. Much better.
There’s a ladder leading up through a hole in the ceiling. Is that an attic?
A screetch signals the opening of the front door.
“Hello?” a male voice calls. “Shit, where–”
A guy comes into the room. Oh my. He’s gorgeous. His blond hair falls down to the thick lashes circling his pale blue eyes, his jaw has just the right angles, and his beautiful, full lips are saying - “There you are! I was worried you may have gone outside. It’s cold out there, and you could have easily got lost. I almost got lost when we first got here, no paths, you see?”
I stare at him. Is he for real?
“Sorry, I’m not used to strangers, and I’m babbling. Sorry. I’ll stop now.” He pauses, then grins and bursts out: “How are you feeling?”
“I’m…eh…who are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Finn. Finnean, really, but everybody calls me Finn.” He does a short bow, which makes me stare at him even more. “And who do I have the pleasure of talking to?”
“Isla, my name is Isla. Do you live here?”
He looks around himself as if he’s not quite sure about something. Then he nods. “Yes, me and my friends. They’re outside now, but should be back soon…” He still looks distracted.
“Was it you who found me on the beach?”
“What? No, that was Torben, the… my friend. He was out for a walk when he spotted you lying in the snow. You looked pretty blue. I mean blue. And pretty. Aargh. Sorry, I haven’t talked to a girl in a while.” He grins at me, sheepishly. He motions for me to follow him back into the living room. The fire is calling to me, and I sit down on the furs next to him. The light of the fire makes his hair look almost golden. He’s beautiful in a fine, angelic kind of way. An angel with quite a bit of muscle - stop it, Isla. He could be anyone. I mean, who lives on an island with just friends? How do they survive?
He clears his throat. Adorable. “So, what brought you to this island?”
“Well, I kind of had to leave my home, and the sea was frozen, so I just started to walk - and eventually ended up here. I didn’t really think it through. It was probably a mistake, but… I couldn’t stay there.”
“Why?” he asks softly, his eyes meeting mine.
“I was supposed to do something that I didn’t want to do.” I pause and laugh humourlessly. Ok, that sounded like I was a child who didn’t want to do her chores. “Actually, my uncle wanted me to marry a guy from our community. And I didn’t want that. That man… he scares me. I couldn’t stay.”
He’s still looking straight into my eyes, and somehow I’ve got the feeling that they’ve told him a lot more about what brought me here than my words.
“Why would your uncle make you? I guess you’re not close?”
“Close? No, not really. I don’t think he sees me as anything other than a young, unmarried woman who can be sold off. There are not many women living on our island, and even fewer ones young enough to have children. The island’s population is growing older, and we need younger workers who still have energy and can be moulded-” I stop, shocked at how I had repeated my uncle’s words. I’m usually so careful, locking away all I heard when he had men over for meetings. This guy and his blue eyes are getting to me. I evade his gaze and look out of the window behind him - into another set of eyes, big brown ones, surrounded by fur, lots of fur. I scream.
Finn whirls around, on his feet before I can even see him move. He’s leaning forward, looking ready to jump, when he sees what I’m seeing. A large dark bear running away from the house. I’ve never seen a real bear, but he looks exactly like they look like in photos. Big, shaggy, scary.
Finn let’s out a sharp laugh. “I see you’ve met one of our … neighbours.”
“Your… neighbours? Aren’t they dangerous?”
“Nah, not once you get to know them. They’re actually quite cuddly.”
He laughs, and I’m just about to shoot him an incredulous smile when I see a white bear burst out of the forest, chasing after the darker one.
“Is that a polar bear? Here? In Scotland?”
“Ehm, yes, I think so.” He gives me a shrug. “Must have swum here.”
I’m about to quiz him further when the door opens, slammed against the wall by a massive man. Huge. Giant. Enormous. I can’t seem to find a word for his massiveness. He’s all bulging muscle, almost ripping the black t-shirt he’s wearing. Wait, t-shirt? It’s freezing out there, and this guy is wearing - almost nothing. I shiver just looking at him.
“Are you cold?” Finn’s concerned voice comes from behind me. He must have been looking at me very closely to see the tiny shiver my body made.
“I’m fine. Ehm… who are you?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” the giant grumbles. He sounds like a mountain smiling at the morning dew. “You’re a mysterious girl. You looked dead and frozen. Now you look… alive. Are you hungry?�
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Only now I see the fish he’s holding in one of his oversized hands.
“Yes, I suppose I am. Thank you.”
He looks at me in confusion, then clears his throat. “You’re welcome. I guess.”
His shoes are leaving wet prints on the wooden floor as he moves into the kitchen.
“That’s Ràn,” Finn whispers. “You’ve met him on one of his chattier days.”
“Is he always walking around in t-shirts?”
Finn throws back his head and laughs. “Usually he’s wearing even less.”
“But it’s winter! Isn’t he cold?”
“He’s got a rather good metabolism,” he chuckles. “Now, where did we put the plates?”
I point towards the kitchen. “There were some on the floor.”
“Ah yes, I don’t think anyone’s used them for a while. But nothing a quick wash shouldn’t improve.”
Men.
Ràn returns from the kitchen, the fish lying in a massive iron pan, now robbed of its scales. Its milky eyes look up at me. I’m not used to eating a lot of fish, or meat in general. My uncle doesn’t like people using the boats to fish. Guess he’s afraid they may not come back. There are a few chickens on the island, but they’re mainly kept for their eggs, and are only slaughtered for special occasions. Like the winter solstice.
Ràn puts a wrought iron contraption over the fire pit, then lowers the pan on top of it. My stomach grumbles at the thought of food. The last time I ate something was just before my uncle told me about his plans. After that, my appetite vanished. Two days without food. How am I still standing?
Finn puts a piece of fish on a plate and hands it to me. He chuckles when I rip it out of his hands. Mine. It’s amazing. I don’t know how Ràn managed to make a fish taste this good without using any other ingredients. Far too quickly my plate is empty. A new piece appears out of nowhere - ok, Ràn puts it there. He shoots me another confused look. Apparently, he doesn’t know any other girls who like to eat. Or maybe girls in general.
Now that the fish is happily swimming in my stomach, tiredness is starting to approach me like a good friend. I yawn and wiggle around on the furs to be comfier. Maybe I should go for the caterpillar look again. But I’d probably need to ask one of the men to tuck me in. And that would be embarrassing. I don’t even know them.
I’m too tired to care. I curl up on the furs and enjoy the heat the fire brings to my skin. Comfy.
* * *
I slowly blink myself awake. Pale winter sunlight is breaking through a window above me. I don’t know this window. I look around. I don’t know this room. I’m in some kind of attic, with walls that go up straight to about my hips before turning into roof. It takes me a moment to remember. The frozen sea, the walking, the fish. Especially the fish. I’m hungry again. I look around until I find the ladder going down, hidden behind a low shelf. When I step on the first rug, I notice the voices. Male voices. I can just about make out what they’re saying; they must be in the living room. Instinctively, I stay on the ladder. I do love a good eavesdropping.
“Does she suspect anything?” A deep voice, full of authority. A voice you’d tell everything it wanted you to.
“I don’t think so. I told her we’re living close to where the bears roam, but that they pose no threat. I think she believed me.” Finn’s chuckling.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. We don’t want her to run off scared. The sea is thawing and it’s not safe. The girl will be staying with us for now, and she can’t find out. We’ll have to start a schedule. How long can you stay in this form?”
“Six hours.” A new voice, a friendly grumble. Like Ràn, but less… dark.
“Five.” That’s Finn.
“Also six.” Ràn. He actually used one word more than Finn. I can’t believe it.
“It’s seven for me. That means some of us need to do two shifts a day. I’ll go first, but we should introduce ourselves first. She’s only met two of us so far. We’ll have to come up with some kind of excuse for being away from the house all the time.”
Finn chuckles again. “How about, we shift into bears in our free time and can’t stay human for longer than a few hours?”
I’m beginning to like Finn’s sense of humour. He seems slightly obsessed with bears, but there are worse things.
“I said an excuse, not the truth.”
Not the truth. What? No. Serious-voice is making a joke. A really, really well hidden joke.
“Why not?” Finn asks. “It’s not that strange, there are loads of stories about werewolves, and we’re not that different.”
“Stories. We’re real,” Ràn grumbles. I don’t think Ràn has much of a sense of humour. Oh heavens. Bears. Were-bears. Bears eat humans, right? That’s why they want me to stay. A portable food source. And I was so stupid to walk right into their lair.
I scramble back into the attic and run to the window. If I can’t leave through the front door without passing the bears, I’ll need to be creative. Luckily the window is easy to open. I carefully drag a chair beneath the opening, trying not to make any noise. Do bears have good hearing?
The roof is covered in thick snow. The upper layer has formed into ice which cracks into tiny shards when my feet step on it. Carefully, I walk towards the edge of the roof. It’s high, but there’s snow on the ground which should break the fall. Serious-voice said the sea was thawing, but I am light, and there might still be somewhere I could cross.
I look down. I’m not a big fan of heights. Actually, they scare me. They are painful - well, the end of the height, where it meets the ground.
“FUCK, COME BACK!” Someone yells behind me.
I jump.
Chapter 3
The ground doesn’t like me. I don’t like it, either.
Pain shoots through my right ankle as I land. I can feel something snap. Not good. Somehow, my body doesn’t get the message and I try to run away from the hut, but my leg gives out and I end up in the snow. Frustrated, I beat against the fluffiness beneath me. It was supposed to feather my fall. The pain brings tears to my eyes, immediately turning into tiny icicles dripping from my lashes.
Something big drops down next to me, throwing snow into the air. Someone big. Through the pain I see a Viking kneeling by my side. I must be hallucinating.
“Don’t move. Where does it hurt?”
My head is stuck in the sea, waves crashing against my ears. Everything is blurry, moving. It’s scarier than the pain. My ears are filled with roaring, and the world is shaking.
“Can you hear me? Isla?” The emotion in his intense voice has just gone up a nudge.
I groan and blink until my vision clears a little. The Viking is still there. His blond hair falls to his shoulders; a few strands have been braided and adorned with wooden beads. A braided beard makes him look older than his smooth skin suggests. Bright blue eyes are looking at me with concern. There’s a little fold between his brows that I can’t stop looking at. It shouldn’t be there; it should be smooth. Is it always there, or just when he scrunches up his face like he does now?
“Stop looking like that,” I mumble, still trying to shake off the noise in my ears.
He stares at me incredulously. “You fall down a roof and tell me what I should look like?”
Yes, when you say it like that, it doesn’t make sense.
“Húnn, get her back into the house.” He gets up and another man steps forwards. At first I think it’s Ràn, but while his face is almost the same, his hair is a little darker and he’s slightly less bulky - slightly. He’s still a lot bigger than most normal men.
“Don’t worry, sweetie, everything will be ok,” he whispers and scoops me up into his arms. I cry out as pain flows from my ankle up into my leg. “Shhh,” he grumbles, as if he was trying to calm a baby. I’m trying to think of something to say, but I then I decide I don’t have the energy.
He carries me back into the house. When we pass through the door, he puts his back against the
door frame to protect me from bumping against it. I’m surprised as his gentleness. For his size, he’s amazingly graceful.
He puts me down on the furs, the same furs I woke up on yesterday. A full circle. Except that this time, four big, intimidating guys are looking down at me. Finn, Ràn, the man I assume to be his brother, and the Viking. I still can’t get my head around how massive they all are. And how hot - but no, my brain reminds my ovaries, they are bears, predators, and even if they seem nice now, they probably just want to fatten me up so I make a bigger meal.
The Viking kneels down at my side. Again, there’s that fold between his eyes. But this time, I stay silent. I don’t need to embarrass myself again.
“Where does it hurt?”
I point down. “My ankle, I heard it snap.”
“Anywhere else? Your head?”
“My head is fine.” Finn chuckles and I shoot him a glare.
The Viking gently rolls up my trousers and runs his hands over my ankle. I flinch and he stops, giving me a strange look, but I pretend it didn’t happen and he continues. His hands are warm, almost hot. He gently lifts up my foot and turns it back and forth until I scream.
“Sorry. I don’t think it’s broken, probably just sprained. Let’s cool it to prevent a swelling and then immobilise it. Finn, get some snow. Húnn, see if you can find some bandages. Ràn, I need a few pieces of wood.”
They all nod and disappear. I’m alone with the Viking.
“Ehm, who are you?” I finally dare to ask.
“I’m Torben. Which you would know if you hadn’t been so stupid to jump off the roof before meeting Húnn and me.”
I cringe, embarrassed. He’s right, it was stupid. But then…
“Are you really… I mean…”
“Spit it out.”
“Bears?”
Shifters Gone Wild; Collection Page 2
