I...I stammered.
I was profoundly in shock. And I do believe the word is shy. My dealings with women have been distant, entirely non-instructive.
I...It's winter. I managed.
What did I say that for? Ludicrous.
She smiled. A silvery laugh echoed back to me.
It is, isn't it? She said with her mind. Well, Mr. Bear, have a good winter. I hope to see you in springtime next year.
Then she turned away.
Goodbye, I managed.
Goodbye.
She disappeared into the forest.
I was left, alone.
What happened?
I still do not know, even now. That question has instead birthed more questions. Now that whatever had happened has changed my life, unutterably and unalterably. What will I do? Sometimes, it seems, there are no answers.
However, I know more now than I had then.
***
Evening settled darkness over the cottage, the constant flames in the grate perseverant in the winter air.
Mother sat by the fire. Kiryla had never noticed before how old and weary she had become.
“Mother?”
The older woman looked up, blinking.
“Kiryla. Daughter. Come, sit by me.”
Her hands, which clasped Kiryla's wrist, looked painfully-thin and felt icy cold. Nevertheless, she smiled at Kiryla.
“Your father is out at the barns. We have time to talk a moment.”
Kyrila rolled her eyes in sympathy. As he aged, her father became more short-tempered and difficult. Anger at his own infirmity makes him unreasoning.
His infirmity meant that he could not farm. Too old to guide a plow, till fields, gather seed, or herd stock, he labored beneath the yoke of his own resentment now.
At seventeen, Kiryla faced the slow ruin of her family.
She sighed. She could marry some strapping, boorish farmer, who would till the land and abuse her and take over the farm.
But she could not. She would not do that, would not allow life to crush the spark inside her. It spoke to the stars, sometimes, and under heaven she refused to let that go. But her mother was dying.
“Mother?” Kiryla interrupted her mother's flow of talk. “You need something for your chest. You are unwell.”
“My daughter, you see what others try to hide.” Her mother's smile eased the lines in her face and warmed Kiryla’s heart.
Kiryla swallowed. That is just part of it. If you knew what I feel and see, you would be as wary as I am about it.
“As it happens,” her mother continued, “I would like something to ease the pains. Could you visit Alena for me?”
Alena. The wise woman. Kyrila lived in awe of Alena, but had also come to love her. She proved the only person who understood the things that happen to Kiryla. And the older woman shone as an example of the gift that she and Kiryla had. She was what it can look like, what it can become, when treated with respect.
She looked at her mother, gold eyes shining. She loved her visits there.
“Of course,” Kiryla said, voice soft.
***
My next memories lie in winter. In them, I am in my cave, and most fully in my bear form…
Around me, the forest slumbered, utterly silent. And I felt tired, so tired. My blood had slowed to almost-stagnant, my head hazy, my mind swimming. The time approached for the long sleep to descend.
Despite all of this, my senses dwelled on her—Kiryla. My mind, my heart, my body… all saw only her. Her full, warm figure, her exquisite golden eyes.
Only a week had passed since I saw her, and I could think of nothing else.
However, I could do nothing to address this longing. Even if I were not a bear, and she were here with me, and willing, my body remained as weak as a newborn. The onset of hibernation weakens me so much.
I scarcely permitted my longing, pouring a thousand scorns on it. Why would she love me? Would she even talk to me if she met me again in human form? I wanted so much to find out.
I would return here, come spring, I vowed. But, will I remember anything?
The day before sleep came to claim me, I marked a “K” out on the floor with twigs. It served as a reminder.
The following day, I entered the darkness of the long sleep, and I could only see her. When the sleep came to claim me, I drifted into it smiling.
***
Alena.
She stood by the darkened fireplace, pearly skin reflecting the dusk light. She seemed impossibly tall, her robes falling like sculpted ice. Her eyes closed, she seemed regal. Like the statues Kiryla had seen in holy parades. But pagan.
Kiryla watched her sink into herself, seeking inner clarity.
Opposite her, Kiryla breathed as she had been taught, using each breath to focus the mind. Her energy focused in with Alena who supported her in her own ritual.
Alena stood with her eyes closed. Her expression lax and tranquil, she showed evidence of being in communion with Spirit. She breathed out suddenly and raised her arms above her head.
Kiryla felt the energy in the room lift, moving skywards and straining for the clouds. The air pulsed and throbbed.
Then Alena brought down her arms.
A rush, a crackle, and something like lightning passed through the room. The fire, which had been dead, sprung to life.
Everything laid very, very silent. The crackling life of the fire whispered in the room, hungrily consuming dry logs, the only noise in the house.
Across the crackle of the flames, Alena opened her eyes. The light played over their dark, reflective surface. She wore an enigmatic smile.
“Right.” Her voice sounded flat, pragmatic. “Is it your turn?”
Kiryla felt her heart swell and clench at once. “I...”
“Maybe not today,” her teacher demurred. “When you feel ready. It will not come, otherwise.”
“I...thank you,” Kiryla breathed out.
She loved this most about her teacher. There was no pushing, no pressure, in her lessons. She allowed each thing to happen of its own accord.
They sat a moment, coming back to that place and time.
“You will go home soon?” Alena asked quietly.
“I… Yes.” Kiryla blinked. Sunset approached. The light outside was a dusky mauve. “I really should.”
Alena looked out of the window, her eyes unfocused. A long pause.
“Yes, you should be getting home,” she said after a while. Her mouth twisted wryly. “I think something interesting might happen on the way back.”
Opposite her, Kiryla felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Even so, she could not help smiling. Typical of her teacher to be so enigmatic.
She passed her the basket of berries, fresh bread and other provisions she had brought as thanks.
“You make things full of surprises, don't you?” Kiryla asked as she left, and leaned in impulsively to kiss the older woman on the cheek.
“My dear, the Universe does that,” her teacher said as Kiryla retreated to the door, her step light and happy. “You attract surprises, and I foresee them.”
Teacher and pupil shared a radiant grin, and then Kiryla bounded down the steps, practically skipping in the spring air.
***
It is late at night, now. My candles are burned down.
My memories are dragging me back to the time we truly touched. The time that ignited the fires that burn inside me now. I have to set them down and assuage my torment.
In this memory, I am still a bear, and the trees are still leafless. Rivulets of ice have settled on their bark, glinting blueish in the crisp evening…
Spring evenings. Cold. I hate the cold. I walked up through the trees, grumbling.
Even my mind was exhausted by the effort, as I pulled my emaciated body up the incline. Rest. Wait.
My breath whistled in my lungs. I looked at the back of my hand and saw my bones curled beneath the fur. I needed to eat. And soon. I paused for breath a mom
ent longer, and then carried on.
My senses told me someone was coming. The footsteps sounded light and crisp. Whoever that approached I felt was happy. It was good to hear such lightness of foot, if a little incongruous, given my exhausted state. Just the sound wearied me.
But there were more footsteps here. And a smell of adrenaline mixed with sweat, which meant that whoever else stood nearby felt tense, in waiting. Someone planning something that even they know is dangerous, or wrong.
I stepped back and waited.
Sure enough, a man appeared, creeping through the undergrowth. He stood tall, and clad as a verderer—someone who manages the forests of a lord. The man stepped onto the path, just as the lighthearted steps reached us.
A girl appeared in the clearing. It took my mind a moment to see any further details.
Her! Kyrila.
Across the clearing came a whirl of sudden action.
The man grabbed her throat. Ripped open her bodice.
Her skin showed white against the darkness. Pinned against a tree, bruises on her forehead already darkening, she gagged.
“No!” I shouted it as I throw myself forward. It came out as a roar, erupting from my throat. The man turned white, whipped around
Kyrila moved down the bole of the tree, rolling out of the way. I faced the man who trembled before me, white and afraid.
He had a dagger, and he tried to use it. I was so much taller. I swatted down with my hand, a contemptuous gesture. My long nails raked his arm, and he howled. In truth, I felt utterly exhausted. He did not know how weak I had become.
I was roaring, standing on my hind legs. It was all I have the energy to do. I could not even step toward him.
It is enough. He drops the dagger, and runs, taking the path from the forest. He is bleeding, the blood dripping on the blue-cold ice. I think the wound is not fatal, but I do not really care.
She stood in front of me. I could see nothing else. Her hair hung loose, and she was again dressed in white. She was shaking. Her trembling hands clutched her dress. She looked shocked, but radiant.
Thank you. Her brows furrowed.
No need. I thought it slowly, down a narrowing tunnel. My head ached and my senses swam. I collapsed.
Everything dropped to black, and I felt the ground. And then nothing.
Focus.
It is a while later. I do not know if the thought belonged to her or me or came from somewhere apart from either.
Everything ached. My body felt coldly numb on the right side, where it laid on frosted ground. I could not move my arm or leg. My head rose, then fell. I managed to pull myself into a crouch, my legs useless. I was utterly exhausted, too tired to move.
It will be well. Her voice. Unmistakable. It sounds cool, like the water of a lake at sunset.
I edged forward. She stood before me, not more than two paces away. She lowered herself gracefully, until she was kneeling, and my head rested on the ground at her knees.
I don't know how to thank you.
Don't say that, I thought back. You owe me no thanks. I owe thanks to you.
To me? Why? Her gold eyes widened.
I...
I thought about that. For being here. For being you. So many reasons why I felt appreciation, simply for the fact that she was alive. That she was here, with me.
She caught the train of thought, despite that I had not finished it. She smiled.
I am glad to have you here, too.
We lingered silent for a moment, her gold eyes looking into mine. Very tentatively, she lowered a slim hand to touch my head.
I held my breath, scared to disturb anything. Inside my chest, I felt a sudden ache. I glanced up at her face. She looked so beautiful, so peaceable.
She sat a while, her fingers light on my head.
What's your name? She asked after a moment. That she knew bears have names comes as a revelation to me.
Aurelius. My mind made a shrug of it.
As good a name as any, I suppose, but I almost never have cause to use it. People simply call me Brother Luca.
She smiled. I like it.
I felt my heart clench.
You are Kiryla. I thought it back to her.
Yes. Her mind-voice is low pitched and warm. A lovely sound.
Her hand rested somewhere near my hand. I wanted to kiss it. I licked it and felt the coldness of her fingers, the damp salt of her skin. It tasted sweet on my tongue. The slow stirrings of desire lit within in me, despite my being in my other form and ridiculously weak.
Her mind sent out a feeling of warmth. She had felt my desire and she did not repulsed by it. My heart leapt with pleasure, unbidden and impossibly lovely.
Her other hand still rested on my head. We stayed like that for a moment, our minds close, her hand on my hair… gentle, cool and beautiful.
Aurelius.
Kiryla.
We looked at each other a moment, and I knew she had to leave now, before darkness fell and it became too dangerous to return. I did not believe I can say goodbye to her. It would be too hard.
I will see you soon. She thought it to me, in answer to my unspoken farewell. A statement, not a question.
I smiled at the insistence. She saw the smile and grins in return. It lit the cold, dusky blue of evening.
You will see me soon. I did not know if I believed myself—some things seem tragically impossible, and I have lived so long that I have seen the tragic and impossible in too many things. But even I am permitted to hope.
My legs had regained some feeling, so I eased myself, slowly and painfully, to sitting upright.
My eyes leveled with hers. We gazed at each other a long moment, and then she turned and was gone.
I felt something in my heart wrench and crack as she left. I watched the path and the growing dusk, the impartial blue a distant, lofty blank, now that she has gone.
***
Kiryla wandered outside in the blue dusk. It was later in the year, a spring evening, just turning to summer.
A few years ago, she would have loved such an evening. She still felt the excitement of spring weave into her blood, filling her with a coiled anticipation. But now, she had so much more to think of than in those carefree years before.
Kiryla's heart ached. She lowered her chin onto her arms and wept.
Her father had confronted her openly about marriage. She did not know he was so hostile, so resentful of her. He had thrown so many accusations at her and made their poverty her fault.
It is not fair. Her mind rebelled at the injustice, and then chided her for her petulance. It is fair, and inevitable.
He told her she had the responsibility to change their situation. She could marry and change everything for them. If she refused, her parents would die in penury. What sort of an ungrateful sot was she that she would let that happen? She only needed to marry.
His hateful words echoed around her head hollowly. She could not close them out. She was crying and did not want to stop. It is too much. Too much to bear.What do they know of my life? How can they make these demands?
She had more than enough reason now to feel wary of men. And in any case, she shrunk from the boorish farmer's sons who wanted the marriage to gain her father's land.
I am a wise woman! Alena had almost finished training her. That is my life! What I love.
Each inch of her lived and breathed to hear the singing of the stars with her fine-tuned senses. She was a wise woman, a gift, given to her by powers unnamed and unnamable. How could she deny what the Universe had made her?
She could not practice her gift if she was a farmer's wife. Each day, the drudgery and possible abuse would wear away her senses, until nothing remained. And she would have no time to practice her craft. She would be too exhausted, come the end of chores, to be able to try.
I cannot do it. Her face shone wet with tears. I cannot throw away that beauty, throw away myself.
She sat and wept longer. The evening settled into dusk.
After a moment, she shook her head. Sat up, back straight. Resolute.
I will not do this.
She closed her eyes and stilled her breath. There was always guidance, and she would seek it.
She searched inward, seeking the center, as her teacher taught her. I am open to guidance. Guide me.
She waited. Her breath stilled and she becomes aware of the peace around her and within her.
As she did so, she saw Aurelius. She let her mind follow that thought. Perhaps it appeared as part of the guidance. And he was in her heart, this big, loving bear. She could not help but find him when she discovered her center.
In the image she saw in her mind, he roamed the woods, foraging in the trees, a tall, dark-furred form, strong and solid and implacable.
Hello? She felt her heart reach out, carrying all its colors with it—pain, shock, hurt… and love. She breathed deeply, watched the image of him turn and look at her. He was her friend, her wellspring of unconditional love.
Kyrila?
Then the image wavered. She slipped away and into the deep, even rhythm of her breathing. When she opened her eyes, she felt at peace.
She knew now that there was more to live for. His love and hers for him had strengthened her conviction.
She stood and walked back to the farm, back straight. She would fight this.
She did not need to suffer to save her family. There was always another way.
***
The light in the room glows softer now, night overlaid with the first gentle touch of morning.
The next part of my memories are the sweetest, and so the hardest to tell. But I will tell them. I will set it all down here.
In these memories, I reside in the woods, near my cave. It is the height of spring. For some reason, I am still a bear, although each day I expect the shift will happen…
I rested against a tree, blithely enjoying the first truly-warm evening, when her thoughts twined into my mind.
I saw her in a sudden flash of vision. She looked distressed, tears running down her cheeks. The vision wavered and started to fade.
Kiryla? My mind called out to her.
Her mind showed me fields and a farmhouse. The vision broadened, including a tall tree. I sensed pain and sadness, woven through with a tenderness that made my heart ache. Then her mind withdrew.
ALIEN ROMANCE: Captivated by the Alien Lord (Alien Invasion Abduction SciFi Romance) (Kahara Lords Book 7) Page 14
