Wolves
The first thing Ailia noticed when she woke up was the eerie, hollow sound of the wind. Then, the pain set in. Her whole body felt as if it had been trampled on by a herd of distraught reindeer. She opened her eyes slowly and tried to make sense of her surroundings. Her cold fingers met the cold ground as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, and she immediately knew something was wrong. Every movement hurt, and when she reached to touch her face, she winced as her fingers gently touched the sores and bruises.
An opening a few feet away revealed that she was in some sort of a cave. The hood of her overcoat was down, so she pulled it up over her numb ears with her stiff, freezing fingers. Next to her was a piece of material that looked like a handkerchief and a small empty glass flask. She picked them up and put them both in her pocket.
As she rose to her feet, she peered to the outside and saw the Northern Star shining brightly in the sky. She tried to recall how she ended up here, but the last thing she remembered was hiking to Odinseat, then—nothing.
She limped over to the ice cave’s exit in hopes of learning where she was, but the night, and the way one of her eyes was nearly swollen shut made it difficult. An unsettling feeling in her stomach told her that she was far, far away from home.
The full moon’s sheen glazed the snow-covered mountains and valleys with its subdued light, subtly lighting up the black vastness of the heavens. Endless and hazardous but beautiful glacier mounds and gorges were all Ailia could see. Where am I? Each gust of wickedly cold wind felt like death calling and it illuminated one dangerous reality; she was wet.
Both Ailia’s ivory under tunic and rust red top tunic were wet and filthy at the skirt hem. Her sleeves came down tight to the wrists and were also wet and dirty at the edges. The butterfly stitches around her skirt hem and sleeves looked tattered—barely noticeable. What happened? This dress was new and clean only moments ago. Or was it days ago she lost consciousness? She looked down at her dark leather boots and noticed that they looked unusually worn from what she could remember and she didn’t even recognize the navy woolen hooded cloak she was wearing.
She pulled the handkerchief out of her pocket and saw that it carried a black raven embroidering. Don’t the Vik people carry the raven emblem? It sent a chill down her already cold spine. She hated the Vik people for the fear they had instilled in the people of her hometown, but she put the cloth back in her pocket, hoping it would lead to clues about how she had ended up here so dirty, so battered and so alone. She studied the empty flask for a moment, too, but smelling it, she noticed no scent, revealing nothing of its previous contents.
Biting cold wind tossed her messy hair in every direction as she exited the icy dome. She defensively grabbed the fur hood of her overcoat and pulled it tight onto her face to prevent the bitter blasts from entering. In the dim light, she could see the silhouette of the countryside and realized she was in an ice cave possibly located on or close to the Blue Glaciers.
“How did I end up here?” she said out loud as if someone were listening. Her sore lips burned in the freezing air. She recognized the towering Trollstein Mountains in the distant north, which were not far from her home, but very far from where she now found herself.
There’s no time to waste. She took a few steps, but having nearly no traction beneath the soles of her boots, she slid on the glassy ice, falling onto her back with a thump.
“Why?” she said, looking up at the millions of stars above. Her stomach made a grumbling sound and she grabbed her belly. It felt considerably thinner than before, her ribs protruding. Finding food out here would be as likely as finding a fish in the sky. If she were extremely lucky, she would run into someone or find a cabin nearby with some hospitable folks.
She stood up and looked for a path to follow as she alternately walked and crawled across the slick, transparent glacier. How long will I last before exhaustion sets in? She angrily hurled the thought out of her mind. Any doubt out here, Ailia, will cost you your life.
Continuing over the ice, she heard the distant howling of wolves, wolves that were probably ravenous and hunting for their next meal. Her eyes scanning the surroundings, she quickly spotted the seven dark animals on the white mountain, their eyes glowing orange in the light of the moon. She hoped they hadn’t seen her or picked up her scent, but it appeared by the direction they were heading that they had not only seen her, but were also pursuing her. Ailia’s heart skipped a beat, and when it started again, it went into triple-time.
She scanned the area for shelter, but the bare glaciers had no trees, no rocks, nor any other places that she could see to easily hide or escape. Instinctively, she ran in the opposite direction as her mind raced to find a solution. Her legs kept slipping and she fell over and over again as her body slammed onto the unforgiving surface. No! This is not how I’m going to die! She couldn’t hold her voice back from letting out a loud, high-pitched scream. She screamed again and again. Her eyes welled up with tears, causing her vision to blur.
It was already difficult to see in the dark, but reason had left and emotion had taken over. She continued to run as fast as she could, hurrying away from the vicious predators. Now, she could hear their paws hammering the ice behind her. Oh no, this is it! she thought.
Then, she glimpsed a thick, dried, wooden stick on the ground in front of her and picked it up. She hastily turned around and started swinging the stick as quickly and violently as she could in the wolves’ direction, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs, trying to intimidate the wolves.
The wolves slowed their pace as they methodically closed in on her, growling, snarling, licking their fangs and wagging their tails enthusiastically in excitement over their fresh prey. One wolf was nearly twice the size of the others and it appeared it was heading the attack on Ailia.
A smaller wolf got hold of her stick and locked it in with its sharp fangs. Ailia and the wolf were tugging at the stick in opposite directions, fighting for their own victory and a common reward—life. As she pulled the stick with all her might, she succeeded in tearing it from the wolf’s jaw. With the stick loose, she fell to the ground, but she quickly recovered and jumped back onto her feet. Swinging at the wolf, she hit it hard on the side of the head, causing it to fall to the ground with a whimper.
Then, the leader came in at Ailia with full force. It was much stronger than the first wolf and deftly pulled the stick out of Ailia’s hands, flinging it to the side as it continued its fixated pursuit without losing a beat. The beast leapt toward Ailia and sunk its fangs into her foot.
She screamed. The pain was sharp and intense as the anima’s incisors dug all the way into the marrow of her bones. She kicked the large creature in the snout with her other leg and pulled her injured one out of the boot. Thick, red blood dripped onto the white snow.
The terror coursing through her veins had started to wear Ailia out and she felt like she didn’t have the willpower to fight back any more. Another wolf came at her arm, but it wasn’t able to bite through her thick wool cloak. It bit again and again, until the fabric started giving into its piercing teeth. The animal’s jaws were brutally strong and Ailia could feel the other wolves coming at her, tugging her, pulling her hair, her arms and her legs, wanting to get to her flesh. Just as she thought there was no hope and she was ready to give up, she heard one of the wolves whimper and fall to the ground. The other wolves looked up and another wolf was hit with an arrow, falling lifeless where it stood.
The leader of the pack looked at Ailia and was hit by an arrow on its upper back. The wolf whimpered and decided to abandon the hunt, pulling with it the rest of the pack.
Ailia couldn’t believe that the wolves were gone. She knew someone was there heading in her direction, wanting to help her, someone who had saved her life. “Help,” she was able to cry out. “Please, my leg—” she pleaded to her unexpected rescuer.
A young man ran to her side and crouched down beside her. “Everything is going to be fine,” he said, dropping his bow onto the snow beside her as he quickly scanned her body. He gasped. “Lucia?” he said.
Lucia? Ailia felt her strength leaving her body and then everything turned black.
* * *
Ailia woke up and was instantly gripped by the pain she felt in her foot. Feeling exceedingly exhausted, she wasn’t able to say anything, but managed to moan quietly. When she opened her eyes, she saw a lively fire burning close to her and she felt the heat of the flames on her face. White polar bear furs and wool blankets covered her body and she felt no coldness even though she was still outside and still on the glaciers, as far as she could tell.
The young man she recognized as her rescuer approached her. At first she became afraid. He was a stranger and could harm her, especially since they were alone. However, when she looked at him, there seemed to be something both in his physical appearance and the way he moved and spoke that was so familiar, so comfortable, and soothing.
“I have never seen anyone take on the furious seven before,” he said lightheartedly. Brown, heavy fur covered his blue wool overcoat. His fur hat hid what she thought looked like dark-brown hair.
“The who?” she mumbled, still not quite certain she could trust this stranger.
“The wolves. A little south of here they are known as the furious seven. They have been responsible for many lost sheep lately.”
“I was close to beating them and if you had not interrupted me, I would have had them.” She tried to smile, but noticed that even that hurt.
The stranger smiled and let out a chuckle. “I believe you!” Shaking his head, he laughed again, his deep voice vibrating through Ailia’s chest. “Your leg will be healed in a few weeks. You had several deep puncture wounds and lacerations. I sewed them up while you were out. You also had an infection around your ankle. Have you been…chained?”
Ailia thought it a strange question. “No.” I can’t remember.
“You are lucky the wolves did not break any bones in your legs or arms with their tough jaws,” he said more seriously, stirring a pot on the fire. “I put an herbal compress on your foot and on a few of the smaller wounds on your face. You also had some sores on your hands from fighting off the wolves and I put some restorative ointment on them.”
He had certainly gone to great lengths to help her, and she doubted he would have, had his intentions been malicious. Still, she felt the need to keep her guard up. “Are you a healer?” she asked, looking straight into his blue eyes for the first time. There, she saw peace and kindness, and…immense suffering. How was she able to see all that without even knowing him? Yet, she could read his eyes like an open scroll. And not only that, her soul soared at the sound of his deep voice and she felt wholly and unreservedly drawn to him as if by a dynamic, living force—a force that was eternal, yet just beginning to flourish.
“I am,” he said. “My name is Soren.” He continued to stir the liquid and then he lifted the ladle and smelled the brew.
She thought the ladle looked like it was hundreds of years old. It was crooked and stained from years of use. “I’m Ailia.” She sat up.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said.
“Were you on your way to help someone?” she asked cautiously, not wanting to impose too much on his privacy.
“Yes,” he said without offering any more information about where he was going.
She felt guilty right away for having stopped him on his journey. “Sorry,” she said. “I hope I didn’t cause anyone else to suffer—or die.”
He smiled. “No, they will be fine.” He poured the boiling liquid into a wooden bowl and offered it to her. “Drink this. It will help take the edge off the pain.”
She reached for the bowl and smelled it. It smelled like a mixture of coriander, mint and lavender, as well as some other herbs she was not familiar with. She carefully sipped the hot drink and grimaced when the bitterness hit her tongue.
Soren laughed briefly. “Not very appealing to the palate, I know, but it will help you sleep through the night.”
“Have I been sleeping long?” she asked, realizing she didn’t know how long she had been out for.
“Oh, about three and a half days,” he answered.
“Oh, no! My aunt and uncle will be extremely worried about me,” she said.
“Did you become separated from them?”
“Last I remember, I was hiking up to Odinseat in Bergendal, and they didn’t even know I had left.” Then she thought about it and gasped. “And it was on my birthday!” But she still couldn’t remember what happened after she visited Odinseat. She must have been unconscious until whoever it was brought her and left her here.
“When was your birthday?”
“On winter solstice,” she said.
“That is the last you remember?” he asked, looking surprised.
“Yes.” Then she remembered more of what happened after she had visited Odinseat. “I remember seeing a band of Vik men with weapons, and…” She let her voice trail off, not remembering anything else.
“Have you been on the glaciers for a long time?” he asked.
“I, uh—I don’t know. I don’t remember. I don’t even know how I got here, or how long I’ve been gone,” Ailia said.
“If the last thing you remember was your birthday on winter solstice before the attacks, you’ve been gone for about four months,” Soren said.
Ailia choked on the tonic she was drinking, coughing it up. “What?” she yelled. Her aunt and uncle must be worried sick. Maybe they even thought she was dead. And what about Geir, her husband-to-be? He must be searching for her.
“So you have been gone a while,” Soren said.
“Yes.” Months had disappeared, if what Soren was saying was true. “I’m sorry, I—uh, I’m a little shocked,” Ailia said.
“No need to apologize. I am sure I would react the exact same way had I been in your position.” He glanced at her a couple of times, as if there was something strange about her.
Maybe he thinks I’ve gone mad, she thought. She should not tell him more. “I’m just not feeling well. My leg hurts, my head hurts—” she said, trying to explain why she was acting strange.
“The tonic will help you feel better soon,” Soren said.
She kept sipping the bitter brew until it was all gone. It felt good in her stomach and warmed her aching body, though it did nothing to calm her nerves. She needed to find a way to get home—fast. After they had sat in silence for some time, Ailia asked, “Are you from Bergendal or thereabouts?” Perhaps he could help her get home.
“No, I am from Trollsoe, but I have not lived there for quite some time. It is about a week’s journey by horse, toward the south-west, bordering on the ocean,” he said. He paused before he added, “Now, I mainly travel from city to city, staying for a few weeks until my help is needed elsewhere. What about you?”
“I come from Bergendal. My parents died of the smallpox before I can remember and my aunt and uncle raised me as their own.”
Soren looked at her again, that same scrutinizing look in his eyes.
Why does he look at me that way? Ailia wondered angrily. She’d had enough of people treating her unkind, believing she was cursed. “They’re not actually related to me, but I call them aunt and uncle anyway.”
“I am sorry to hear about your parents,” Soren said. “I have lost loved ones in the past and know how painful it can be.” His face went stoic.
“I don’t remember my birth parents,” she said. “I wish I would have known them. I wish I could remember my mother’s voice, or that I even had something from them, a letter, an item of clothing, something to prove that they existed.” She wasn’t sure if the drink was starting to work and that is why she felt she could be so open with Soren, or if he was indeed a kindred soul.
“So you only know the old Bergendal before the eternal winter began,” he said.
The eternal winter, isn’t that a prophecy? She knew she had heard about it from somewhere, but where? “I don’t know any other Bergendal than the one I grew up in,” she said. “Is it different?” Now, she started worrying whether her aunt and uncle were all right. They could have been taken by the Vik people, or could be—She did not want to think about what bad things could have happened to them.
“Bergendal is not too different, but in worse condition than before.” Soren took off his gloves and used some snow to rinse out the pot he had made the brew in.
Ailia saw that he wore a gold serpent wedding band on his ring finger. Married. Although, he hadn’t mentioned his wife or family yet. After a little while the brew was starting to make her feel really drowsy and she couldn’t resist yawning.
“We had better get some sleep before dawn. We have a long journey ahead of us and it is easier to travel during daylight. It will take us two to three days to get back to Bergendal.”
Ailia assumed that was an invitation for him to help her get back home. “All right,” she said and yawned again.
He plopped down on the opposite side of the fire pit in a makeshift bed.
Ailia could see that he had given her all the warmer furs as he pulled the thin, overused reindeer fur over his body. Looking at him, she couldn’t help but notice how attractive he looked in the light of the fire.
Their eyes met for a brief moment and Ailia quickly looked away, slightly self-conscious and uneasy about how her heart had started to race. “Good night,” she said, lying down and pulling the furs over her body.
“Good night,” Soren responded. “If you need anything, please do not hesitate to wake me. I am a light sleeper.”
“Thank you,” Ailia said with a nod. “For all you have done.” Then she remembered something he had said right before she lost consciousness. “I was just wondering—” she said. “You mentioned the name Lucia right when you saw me?”
“Yes, my mistake. I thought at first you were someone else.” He nodded, turned around and laid his head on the thin linen blanket.
“Good night then,” Ailia said and closed her heavy eyelids.