The Alien Reindeer's Redemption

by Elin Wyn

I pulled out my map again. There had to be another way to get to Gold Peak.

  “Can you turn on the light?” I asked.

  “What?” Ryant seemed genuinely confused by the question.

  I stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. In the end, I reached over to his side of the dashboard and flicked on the overhead light myself.

  He looked up at the light curiously, as if he didn’t know it was there.

  Weird.

  Hot, intense, but weird.

  “Let’s see here,” I muttered to fill the awkward silence.

  It took a moment for me to figure out where we were on the map, and even then, there was a reasonable margin of error.

  It was a crappy map, and it was almost impossible to tell how far we’d gotten in the storm, but….

  “Look at this!” I exclaimed. I pushed the map closer to him and pointed to a hair-thin line branching off from the main road. “If we take that road, we can still make it to Gold Peak.”

  “Why does that marking look different from this one?” he asked. “Are you certain it’s a road?”

  Doubt twisted through me.

  “Sort of,” I offered. “It’s not a main road, so it’s probably not paved or maintained.”

  “How do we know it’s safe?” he asked, arching a brow.

  “It wouldn’t be on the map if it wasn’t safe,” I lied.

  Maybe it wasn’t really a lie? Who knew how mapmakers decided what went on the final product?

  Or when this map had been printed.

  But it didn’t matter.

  I needed to try, for Arabella. My instincts kept dragging me forward, toward my baby girl. And maybe they hadn’t always been the best, but this time I couldn’t risk ignoring that pull.

  “Please?” I begged when he didn’t say anything. “It’s really important that I get to Gold Peak tonight.”

  I expected him to ask why, but he didn’t.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to know about Arabella or not. He might be the sort of guy willing to go out of his way for a stranger in need.

  He might be the kind of guy who went running for the hills at the first sign of trouble.

  He threw his truck in gear and carefully turned around in the road.

  “It’s been a crazy winter this year,” I said. “I’ve never seen the roads so rough.”

  “You live nearby?” He asked.

  “Not really,” I shrugged. “I live much farther south. We still get snow, of course. But it’s not this extreme.”

  He made a noncommittal grunt I took as a sign of disinterest.

  “The road is just past the mile-217 marker,” I said before falling into silence. We’d just passed the mile-216 marker, but we were moving so slowly, I knew it would be a few minutes before we reached the next post.

  The mile-217 marker came and went. I didn’t see any signs of a road. When we reached the mile-218 marker, I asked him to stop.

  “We must’ve missed it,” I insisted.

  “Maybe the map is inaccurate,” he said.

  “It was done by hand, not satellite. Someone wouldn’t have drawn the road if they didn’t see it with their own eyes.”

  “Satellite?” His eyes lit up.

  “Or however people make maps nowadays,” I said dismissively.

  What did I look like? A cartographer? “Turn around, please. We have to look again.”

  “Are you certain?” He glanced at me.

  “Absolutely. That road is there and I need to find it.”

  Again, I expected a question, but he said nothing.

  He whipped the truck around too violently. The back wheels slid over the icy road. If we’d been going faster than ten miles an hour, I would’ve been scared.

  He righted the truck easily.

  “Go slow,” I encouraged him. “The entrance might be hidden by trees or something.”

  Sure enough, a small gap between two snowbanks shrouded in bare tree branches appeared near the mile-217 marker.

  “That must be it,” I beamed.

  “That doesn’t look like a road,” Ryant said as he pulled the truck over to the side of the road. I hopped out of the truck before it fully stopped. Snow crunched under my boots and the cold winter air bit my exposed skin.

  “Sure it is,” I assured him, even though it looked like nothing at all. I grabbed at the dead branches blocking the entrance and started snapping them off.

  “What are you doing?” He was out of the car now.

  “Clearing the path,” I said as though it was obvious.

  “I don’t think that’s a road.”

  “Then I’ll walk it,” I insisted. I was taking this path no matter what. If he wasn’t going to help me, fine. I’d do it alone.

  I’d been managing just fine before he showed up.

  Mostly.

  I’d manage without him.

  “Isn’t it cold for you?” he asked. “You were shaking in my truck. This must be far colder than that.” The way he spoke was odd. It was like he couldn’t personally conceptualize what it was to be cold. He wasn’t even wearing gloves or a parka.

  Some people must have a higher threshold for that kind of thing.

  “I’m getting to Gold Peak tonight,” I said through my chattering teeth. Snapping the branches wasn’t an easy task. Though they were dead, they were also frozen.

  Ryant stepped up beside me and snapped several, using one hand.

  Maybe I was just really out of shape. I looked at his arms from the corner of my eye. His bicep was almost the size of my head. I bet he could smash a watermelon between his thighs.

  Suddenly, parts of me weren’t cold at all.

  I shook my head and focused on the branches. With his help, we quickly made a sizeable opening.

  “I still don’t think this is a road,” he said when we piled back into his truck. I shivered. I could no longer feel the tips of my fingers. I reached for the heater knob.

  “May I?” I asked.

  “Oh, right!” He cranked the knob as hot as it would go. “I’m not used to using the heat.”

  “I gathered. Does this truck have four-wheel drive?”

  “I…” he hesitated and looked around his dashboard. “I don’t know.”

  “Let me look.” I leaned across the center console and peered at the controls, highly aware of how close I was to him.

  It took all my effort not to lean even closer, take a deep breath, see if he smelled as fantastic as he looked.

  He looked like he smelled amazing, probably like pine, good soap, and something else manly.

  God, what was the matter with me?

  I found what I was looking for, switched the truck into four-wheel drive, and sat back in my seat quickly, cheeks hot.

  “That should make getting down this road easier,” I said.

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “I said easier, not easy,” I reminded him.

  Slowly, he eased the truck onto the road. It was a slow journey. I could’ve walked faster, but at least I was warm in the truck.

  Unfortunately, the sun dipped behind the mountains. Night closed in quickly in this rural part of Idaho.

  Who knew what wild animals roamed the woods at night?

  Wolves? Bears? Mountain lions? I had no idea.

  I pulled out my phone, hoping to use the GPS to determine how far we were from Gold Peak.

  Not surprisingly, I had no service. I turned the phone off so I wouldn’t run down my battery.

  “We can’t keep going,” Ryant sighed. “The truck’s struggling enough as is. I don’t want to break down out here in the middle of the night.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” I asked. “We can’t just stop.”

  Deep down, I knew he was right. This road was dangerous enough in daylight and good visibility.

  My heart sank as the reality of our situation hit me.

  Driving any further through this storm, on this trail, in the dark was a death sentence.
>
  I was no good to Arabella dead.

  “Do you see that?” Ryant asked, pointing at something up ahead.

  It was a sign of some sort, covered in a layer of frost. I couldn’t make out any of the lettering.

  “Pull us up closer,” I urged. “Let’s check it out.”

  It took nearly ten minutes to get the truck parallel to the sign. Ryant hopped out before I could and cleared away the frost with his bare hand.

  I rolled down the window to get a better look. Cold night air hit me in the face.

  “It’s a sign for vacation cabins,” I said. “They only rent in the summer. It’s closed.”

  “Perfect,” Ryant shrugged.

  “No, not perfect! We can’t rent a cabin from a closed business.”

  “Do they take the cabins away when they’re closed?” he asked.

  “No,” I answered slowly, confused by the question.

  “That means there are empty cabins nearby and no one to stop us from seeking shelter,” he said.

  “That’s breaking and entering!” I exclaimed.

  “That’s our only option. I thought you wanted to get to Gold Peak, and this would save us from having to turn back.”

  “I do!”

  I just didn’t want to become a criminal in the process. It wouldn’t do Arabella any good if I was arrested.

  Or frozen to death.

  “Then let’s go.” He pointed a bit further into the trees. “It’s not far. We’ll be better off walking.”

  Ryant opened the passenger door for me. I grabbed my bag, placed my foot on the running board, and immediately lost my balance. I was headed for the snow, face first, when Ryant’s arm snaked around my waist. He pulled me against him.

  For one breathless moment, I stared up at him.

  He looked down at me, his eyes burning and unreadable.

  I was gripped with the urge to kiss him.

  I couldn’t remember ever wanting to kiss a man so badly, not even Ted, back in the beginning.

  It took all my willpower to look away. I couldn’t kiss him.

  I didn’t even know him.

  I focused on regaining my balance.

  When I was sure I wasn’t going to fall on my ass, I nodded for him to release me. The moment he did, the winter chill invaded my layers of clothing.

  I suffered through it. I couldn’t very well ask him to wrap his arms around me again, now could I?

  “Let’s hurry before I get frostbite,” I muttered.

  Just as I turned to walk in the direction of the cabins, I would have sworn I saw his eyes flash bright blue.

  Ryant

  Megan walked on ahead of me. For a moment, I couldn’t move. I needed to get myself under control.

  She gave me an odd look just before she started walking. I knew part of my true form bled through in the moments when my composure was frazzled.

  I didn’t expect her to fall, didn’t expect her to feel like that in my arms.

  Didn’t expect to want to keep her there, safe and protected, where I could breathe in her intoxicating scent mixed with the crisp air.

  Humans certainly can’t tolerate cold to save their lives. I can’t imagine what that’s like. Large portions of this planet fall into what humans consider cold.

  I haven’t noticed any natural defenses against the cold.

  Humans don’t appear to grow winter coats. They regulate their own body temperatures, but not very efficiently.

  Very odd.

  But not my problem, except...

  Even though I was several paces behind Megan, I could tell she was shivering again.

  “Wait!” I called, and she turned, questions in those lovely eyes.

  “There’s a coat in the truck, do you need it?”

  It wasn’t my coat, and for a moment the thought of another man’s scent on her ripped through me with a flash of anger. But she needed something warm, and that was more important.

  “Really?” Her smile washed away anything but the pleasure of making her happy.

  I rummaged in the back until I found it, and grabbed my own small bag. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” There was still some hesitation in her voice as she tugged the coat on. The movement caused something to fall from the pouch at the front of her hooded jacket. It looked like a slip of paper. I reached down and grabbed it before the snow could ruin it.

  “Oh, don’t-” she started, but it was too late. I already had it in my grasp. I turned the paper over. A smiling juvenile human looked up at me from the paper. It was a portrait of some kind.

  “That’s my daughter,” Megan said.

  I tore my gaze from the portrait. Megan looked apprehensive, like she was afraid I was going to damage the paper in some way. I handed it back to her to show her I meant no harm.

  “She looks like you,” I said. “How old is she?”

  “Five,” Megan smiled. There was a sadness in her eyes I didn’t understand. Most species were happy to talk about their offspring.

  She swung her bag over her shoulder and moved off.

  I quickly fell in stride with her. It was probably best that I led the way. Humans had dull senses across the board. My eyesight was likely better than hers.

  “Let me clear a path,” I offered and moved ahead of her. I wasn’t sure how close I wanted to be to her right now. Something about her made it difficult for me to stay in control of myself. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

  She was relentless and determined, despite her human weakness and vulnerability. I wasn’t sure why she was so determined to get to Gold Peak.

  She acted as though it were a life or death situation. I wanted to ask, but I wasn’t sure how to phrase the question in accordance with human manners.

  Besides, there was a large chance I wouldn’t understand the explanation. She already thought it odd that I didn’t know how to activate the light in the truck or four-wheel drive, whatever that was.

  I couldn’t do anything to risk exposure, even if it meant keeping Megan at arm’s length.

  My superiors were trying to prove a point by sending me on this ridiculous errand. The last thing I wanted was to give them any justification to continue my punishment.

  But if there was something wrong, if something had hurt Megan, I wanted to know about it.

  Wanted to fix it.

  I tore at some dead branches and shoved a fallen log out of the way to make walking easier.

  “Thanks,” Megan said through her shivers as she caught up.

  “Is your daughter at your residence?” I asked.

  Megan bit down on her bottom lip. Her eyes welled with tears.

  Before I could apologize for my apparent blunder, she looked away.

  “No.” Her voice was soft and wobbly. “She was actually taken from me not long ago. That’s why I need to get to Gold Peak.”

  “Taken?” I repeated. “How?”

  “Her father sent someone to kidnap her. She was snatched from the playground,” she replied.

  “Her father? Isn’t it a good thing that she’s with family?” I asked, wondering about that strange word. Kidnap.

  It didn’t sound good.

  “Not in this case.” Megan wrapped her arms tightly around her body and marched on.

  I quickly moved ahead of her, removing obstacles and dangers she wouldn’t have seen otherwise.

  I wanted to know more about her daughter.

  I didn’t understand why the child being with her father wasn’t a good thing. It seemed to cause Megan deep distress.

  “I gather the father took your child without permission?” I ventured.

  “Exactly,” she nodded. “I have an idea of where they are. I hired someone to find her for me. I don’t know how accurate the information is, though. I just,” her voice wavered. “I need to find her.”

  “You’re on the right track,” I said in an attempt to comfort her. “We’ll be there soon.”

  A missing child, even a human child, made me feel uneas
y.

  I could only imagine the pain and terror Megan was going through. No wonder she was so determined to keep moving, even in conditions she wasn’t suited to withstand.

  “I see the cabins,” she called.

  I peered through the darkness and saw the outlines of several squat buildings. No lights. No signs of occupation.

  Perfect.

  We approached the closest cabin.

  Megan reached for the door handle and gave it a sharp twist.

  “It’s locked,” she grumbled. “I should’ve thought about that.”

  “Let me try something,” I suggested.

  Megan stepped aside so I could examine the door. It was locked, but it wasn’t a complicated lock. I gave the knob a hard twist, forcing the locking mechanism to disengage. The door swung open, revealing a dark, musty-smelling room.

  “Did you just break that?” Megan gasped. “Damn, they need to get all their locks replaced if it was that easy for you to get past this one.”

  She stepped around me and entered the cabin. She reached for a switch on the wall, flicking it a few times.

  Nothing happened.

  “I guess they cut the power during the off-season,” she said thoughtfully. “Don’t suppose you can muscle your way into making this work, huh?”

  “I can try.” Skith. It was probably like the car. Some sort of archaic, unknowable technology. My fingers flexed, itching to get to the toys I’d packed in my bag.

  “I’m only joking,” she laughed. “I think there’s a fireplace. Do you want to look around the outside for some firewood?”

  “Certainly,” I nodded.

  There were a few logs piled up against the side of the cabin, but they were soaked through from the snow.

  A woodpile next to another cabin, further into the trees, seemed to have been more sheltered.

  As I moved through the dark forest, an unsettling sensation crept over my body. I felt like I was being watched.

  I went still and listened.

  Even with my superior hearing, I heard nothing except for the soft sound of snow falling from branches.

  I must not yet be used to the unusual natural sounds of this planet.

  I returned to the cabin with an armful of thin, uncut logs.

  “Not ideal,” Megan said. “But I think we can make it work.”

  Together, we set up the sticks in a little alcove in the wall.