Frostbitten

by Heather Beck

  They arrived at the Lockhart residence ten minutes later, but to Anastasia, the car ride felt much longer. Although her grandfather had calmed down, he still wasn’t his usual happy self. He seemed distant, as if he had a lot on his mind, perhaps more than just his recent run-in with Mr. Stone. Either way, as Anastasia stood before her grandparents’ house, she was relieved to be out of the car.

  The area was set aglow by all-season solar lights which lined the path to a charming two-story house. It was a lovely, secluded property situated on three acres of land, with the nearest neighbor being a ten minute walk away. An abundance of tall trees surrounded the house, adding extra privacy and making it appear as if it belonged in its own little world.

  “Everything looks so magical at this time of year,” Anastasia commented, realizing that she’d never been to Cedar Falls in the winter. “I see Grandma’s still collecting those lawn ornaments,” she added in amusement, while looking upon the numerous gnomes which were covered in snow. Their red pointy hats, which poked out from the snow, were the only sign of their presence.

  “You know how your grandmother acts around gnomes,” Mr. Lockhart said, shaking his head.

  “Ohhh, they’re just darling!” Anastasia and Mr. Lockhart said in unison, mocking Mrs. Lockhart in a joking manner.

  As if on cue, Anastasia’s grandmother, Mrs. Rose Lockhart, opened the door, the interior lights illuminating her as she stood upon the threshold. She was of medium height, somewhat plump and had short red hair which was only starting to turn gray. Just like her husband, she hadn’t changed at all.

  “Anastasia!” Mrs. Lockhart cried, before hurrying out into the snow with slippers as her only means of footwear.

  “Hi, Grandma,” Anastasia greeted with a smile, noting how her hug felt warm and loving, just like it always had.

  “What took you two so long? I was starting to get concerned.”

  “Let us get inside, Rose,” Mr. Lockhart complained, obviously avoiding her question.

  Anastasia looked at her grandfather, wondering if he was keeping secrets from his wife. After all, almost getting into a fight was a big deal; she certainly knew that much.

  “Silly me,” Mrs. Lockhart said with a laugh as she guided Anastasia inside.

  The house was comfortably warm, inviting and had a pleasant aroma, like pie had recently come out of the oven and apple cider was brewing. Everything about the house was perfect, from the carefully matched country-inspired décor, to the immaculate upkeep of it all. It was clear that Mrs. Lockhart still took great pride in her home.

  “It’s so wonderful to have you here,” Mrs. Lockhart said as she took Anastasia’s coat and hung it up.

  “Thank you for having me,” Anastasia replied in a slightly rehearsed tone. “It means a lot to me and my mother.”

  Looking sad for a moment, Mrs. Lockhart opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted as Mr. Lockhart came in with Anastasia’s luggage.

  “It’s going to be a cold night,” he said. “I hope you brought suitable clothing.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Mrs. Lockhart answered for Anastasia. “I have enough warm garments to clothe an army.”

  Anastasia forced herself to smile. Although she loved her grandmother dearly, she wasn’t quite ready to adopt her high-waist denim and gingham blouse type of style. “I should probably start unpacking,” she said, while taking the luggage from her grandfather.

  “Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” Mrs. Lockhart stated, “and after that, I have a special dessert.”

  Anastasia looked at her grandparents. “Thanks,” she said sincerely.

  “My darling, you already said that,” Mrs. Lockhart commented with an amused smile. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

  As Anastasia walked toward the bedroom on the main floor, she thought about her grandmother’s words. For a very long time, she hadn’t felt welcomed anywhere. It was amazing how much could change with a few kind words and gestures.

  When Anastasia entered the bedroom, it was like she’d traveled back in time. This room, which once belonged to her mother, had been Anastasia’s during her summer visits. It was eerie to see everything exactly how she’d left it so many years ago – three teddy bears sat on the floral bedspread, staring at her with glassy eyes; CDs featuring long-forgotten artists were piled next to an over-sized boom box; even the rocking chair was still in the corner, seating a collection of fashion dolls.

  Anastasia’s attention was particularly drawn to the white dresser, where several framed photographs were carefully arranged. She smiled as she looked at a photo of herself and Chloe Fairbanks – her former best friend in Cedar Falls. They were at the carnival, and Chloe had a painted butterfly on her cheek, while Anastasia wore a clump of bright pink cotton candy in her hair – unintentionally, of course. Next, she looked at a photo of herself and her grandparents in Cedar Falls Lake. They’d been fishing for minnows, and by the proud smile on her face, she knew that she’d caught some in her small net. Finally, she laid her eyes on a much older photo. It was of her mother and grandparents in happier times.

  Unable to look at that photograph any longer, Anastasia turned around and was met with a reflection of herself. She stood before a mirror, and as she looked at her green eyes, long reddish brown hair and tall, slender build, she saw what her grandfather had seen earlier today – she was the spitting image of her mother when she was a teenager.

  The last time I looked into that mirror, I’d seen an innocent twelve-year-old girl, Anastasia thought with tears in her eyes. Now, look at me. Look at what I’ve become. Not wanting to accept that she’d lost such a wonderful part of herself, she hastily turned away from the mirror, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her black hooded sweatshirt.

  That night, dinner tasted as delicious as it smelled. Hungrily, Anastasia ate the lasagna, savoring the sweet spices which made her grandmother’s meals so special. Although everyone was obviously enjoying the food, not much was said. It was almost as if her grandparents didn’t know what to say. Of course they made light conversation, but no real questions had been asked. Not that Anastasia was complaining. She was the last person who wanted to talk about the last few years of her life. However, her grandparents’ blatant avoidance of the subject made it just as awkward.

  After finishing the main course, Mrs. Lockhart brought out dessert. “I remember how much you enjoyed my cranberry pie,” she said, while cutting Anastasia a slice. “You used to beg me to make it every night.” After a moment’s pause, she added, “Cranberry pie was your mother’s favorite, too.”

  As impossible as it seemed, the atmosphere became even more uncomfortable. Mr. Lockhart cleared his throat loudly, as if warning his wife to be quiet, but she refused to take the hint.

  “You should call your mother to let her know you’ve arrived safely,” she advised Anastasia.

  “I’ve already sent her a text message,” Anastasia said, annoyed that the conversation was starting to revolve around her mother, “but I doubt she’d care either way.”

  “That’s not true,” Mrs. Lockhart commented with a small frown. “Your mother loves you very much.”

  Anastasia couldn’t help but snort. “If she was a true mother, she wouldn’t have abandoned me. Everyone goes through rough times, but a mother isn’t supposed to send her daughter away for someone else to handle.”

  “You’re tired, Anastasia,” Mrs. Lockhart said softly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “No,” Anastasia snapped, “you’re the one who doesn’t know what she’s saying. You have no clue what my mother is like, and how could you? You haven’t seen her in seventeen years!” As soon as the words had escaped from her mouth, Anastasia regretted them. She looked at her grandmother, who was forcing back tears.

  “Your...your mother has done the best she can, especially considering her circumstances.”

  “Grandma, I’m so sorry,” Anastasia apologized in a hurry. “I always say the wrong things.”

/>   “It’s alright,” Mrs. Lockhart reassured her, even though she was obviously not okay. “I should start cleaning up,” she added quietly, taking her dish into the kitchen despite the fact that her slice of pie had gone untouched.

  Silence followed her grandmother’s departure, and although her grandfather continued to eat his dessert as if nothing had happened, Anastasia’s head was lowered in shame. For the second time that night, she felt her heart break. Of all the stupid things she’d done in her life, making her grandmother cry was her worst crime. How could she be so cruel to someone who had always loved and supported her?

  Anastasia forced herself to eat the pie, now unable to enjoy its sweet tartness. She’d already ruined dinner, and she didn’t want to hurt her grandmother even more by not finishing the dessert which was made especially for her. It was a small gesture, but it was the best that she could do.

  “You don’t have to end up like your mother,” Mr. Lockhart finally spoke in a tone too matter-of-fact for such a delicate topic. “That’s why you’re here.”

  Not wanting to respond to her grandfather’s insensitive words, Anastasia stood up hastily and said, “I need to finish unpacking, and I should get organized for school tomorrow.” She then hurried out of the dining room, unable to bear being in there for a second longer.

  Her grandfather’s words haunted Anastasia as she lay in bed that night. From the stories her grandmother used to tell her, to the numerous photographs showcasing a happy family, Anastasia knew that her grandparents once had a close relationship with her mother. Now, Mr. Lockhart spoke about Kendall as if she was dead, and Mrs. Lockhart looked broken-hearted every time her name was mentioned. Worst of all, Anastasia knew that it was her fault.

  Kendall was only sixteen when she became pregnant with Anastasia. It all started with some guy who was passing through Cedar Falls. After meeting Kendall, he decided to stay for a while, and their relationship soon turned serious. Her parents disapproved of the relationship, but she refused to acknowledge their concerns; she was too much in love. Unfortunately, when her prince charming found out that she was pregnant, he fled Cedar Falls. No amount of searching could find him.

  Kendall’s scandalous story spread throughout the town like a wildfire. She was an outcast and couldn’t leave her house without people staring and talking about her. Even worse was how her parents behaved. Mr. Lockhart was ashamed of her, and he made his feelings perfectly clear. Privately, Mrs. Lockhart supported her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so in public.

  Heartbroken and betrayed, Kendall knew that she had to get out of Cedar Falls. She was seven months pregnant when she packed her belongings and moved to Toronto. She lived off her savings and then social assistance. Once in a while, Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart would send her money, although she demanded that they stop. She eventually found a job for herself and a daycare for Anastasia, and somehow, they managed.

  This was everything Anastasia knew about her parents’ relationship and the pregnancy. She didn’t even know her father’s name. She’d inquired once, but after being told it was merely The Asshole, she never asked again. Anastasia highly doubted that she’d ever discover what else happened during that time, but one thing was for certain, she’d never have a relationship with her father.

  Sighing deeply, Anastasia tossed in bed for what felt like the hundredth time. Being in Cedar Falls brought back so many memories and, against her will, made her reflect on her present life. As if that wasn’t enough, she couldn’t get that blue-eyed boy out of her mind. When he’d looked at her, she’d felt a spark, making her believe that he was very passionate. Yet, from the way he behaved with her grandfather and Mr. Stone, she also knew that he was gentle and caring. Despite the obvious attraction, she decided to stay away from him. Developing romantic feelings for some guy was the last thing she needed. Besides, he’d probably end up bringing more trouble into her life, exactly like all the other guys she’d dated.

  The minutes passed slowly as Anastasia continued to lie there, listening to the sounds of Cedar Falls. An owl hooted loudly right outside her window, most likely in protest to the strong winds which blew through the trees, rattling their branches in the process. As these sounds persisted, they overpowered Anastasia’s thoughts and soon became white noise. She began to relax, and as her eyelids became heavy, she finally gave into the sweet temptation of sleep.

  Howl...

  Startled by the unexpected noise, Anastasia’s eyes flew open and she sat straight up in bed. That had sounded like a wolf’s howl, but maybe she was just dreaming. Anastasia quickly wondered if she’d even fallen asleep, and if she had, why she was dreaming about wolves.

  Howl...

  Now realizing that the wolf wasn’t a figment of her imagination, Anastasia’s body stiffened with fear. That howl had been near – too near. She’d never heard wolves in Cedar Falls before, far less right outside her grandparents’ house.

  Remaining still for several moments, Anastasia listened, hearing only the sound of her quick, shallow breath. It seemed as if the wolf had moved on, but she had to be sure. She pulled her duvet aside and then stepped out of bed. As her bare feet touched the cool wooden floor, a shiver went through her body. Quietly, she crept toward the window and then drew the curtains.

  The moon and solar lights illuminated the night, making it easy to see that the woods were in great disarray. Pinecones and twigs rolled wildly on the ground, and her grandmother’s birdfeeders looked like they’d soon take flight. Even the tall, sturdy trees swayed dangerously in the increasing winds, as if foretelling that the worst was still to come. Yet, amongst the chaos there was no wolf.

  Seriously, Anastasia, get a grip, she scolded herself.

  Anastasia was about to step away from the window when something suddenly caught her attention. A shadowy figure was racing in between the trees at such a speed that she wasn’t sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. With a pounding heart, she scanned the area, waiting to see if the figure would re-appear – it didn’t. She shivered while thinking about what she’d just seen. Although it was difficult to be certain, the figure had looked somewhat human-like.

  Confused and a little scared, Anastasia wanted to tell her grandparents what had happened, but she knew that wasn’t a good idea. What if they thought she was making up stories? In fact, maybe she was. Combined, the moon, solar lights and trees could create odd shadows, so perhaps there really was no one outside. She began to relax, even though she was only slightly convinced by her reasoning.

  As Anastasia climbed into bed for the second time that night, the events of the day replayed in her mind. She’d expected Cedar Falls to be the same small town she remembered from her childhood. In many ways, that’s what she found. However, not everything was familiar. She could’ve never predicted the odd change in her grandfather’s behavior, meeting a mesmerizing boy who lingered in her thoughts and finally, discovering a potential mystery right outside her bedroom window. It didn’t take Anastasia long to realize that Cedar Falls was anything but a sleepy town.

  * * *

  Part Two: Leader of the Pack

  The air inside Anastasia’s bedroom was frigid, causing her to subconsciously retreat further under the duvet in an attempt to keep warm. Wind whipped at her hair and exposed skin, chilling her to the bone, and as her eyes slowly fluttered open, she realized that something was wrong. Sitting up, she wrapped the duvet tightly around herself. That’s when she heard an odd noise, like a succession of small clinks every time she moved. Carefully, she swept her hand over the duvet, cringing as several shards of glass scraped her skin.

  A gust of wind blew through the bedroom, directing Anastasia’s attention toward the window. Wildly, the curtains blew back and forth, revealing the shattered pane. It looked like something large had smashed through the window, and as the moon’s glow intensified and streamed into her bedroom, she saw dark red blood dripping from the broken glass, pitter-pattering as it fe
ll upon the ledge.

  Suddenly, the floorboards creaked and then she heard a low, angry growl. Anastasia’s heart raced as she spun around to see a wolf standing at the foot of her bed. She wanted to yell for help but quickly realized that any loud noise may provoke an attack. Instead, she tried to stop herself from shaking as she stared at the wolf. He was large and black, with piercing yellow eyes that seemed to burn into her soul. Her stare aggravated the wolf as he let out another growl and hunched his back.

  Knowing that she had to get out of the bedroom, Anastasia slowly began to step out of bed. In response, the wolf snarled, revealing razor-sharp fangs that were covered in saliva. With her first plan unsuccessful, she decided to find a large or, better yet, sharp object. If she acted fast enough, maybe she could protect herself. She looked around, examining everything in her bedroom, but unfortunately, she found nothing that would be even slightly helpful. A cold realization swept over her; she was trapped, and the wolf was anything but friendly.

  Aggressively, the wolf pounced onto Anastasia’s bed and then crept forward, forcing her backwards until she hit the headboard. As the wolf brought his face close to hers, his breath momentarily lingering like a cloud, she caught a whiff of raw meat. Immediately, she felt like being sick.

  “Easy, boy,” Anastasia said in a soft, shaky tone.

  In a bloodthirsty rage, the wolf leapt on top of Anastasia and ripped his fangs into her left shoulder. She screamed as an intense pain shot throughout her body, immobilizing her in the process. As the wolf’s fangs dug deeper into her flesh, the agony worsened and soon became unbearable. Then everything went black.