Page 27 of Polar Destiny
There’s a small fireplace opposite the bed and I make a mental note to look for peat later on. Maybe there’s a stash somewhere outside. A box of matches is lying on the mantelpiece, so that’s a good sign. Even though I’m not cold now doesn’t mean it will stay that way. I prefer to beprepared.
I make another discovery when I open the drawer of the bedside table. A book! Grimm’s fairy tales. Guess what I’m doing tonight – oh. No electricity means no light. I should better hurry up before it’s too dark to seeanything.
A door with a large crack in it leads to a bathroom. The shower is no longer working and neither is the tap. Guess I will have to use snow to wash for now, until I find a stream or even the sea. And I’ll dig a hole outside to become my toilet – without a working flush, this one is useless. A mirror catches my view and I use my sleeve to wipe it clean. My blue eyes stare back at me and I’m tempted to look away. They are too bright, too intense. And there’s something else that’s different… it takes me a moment to figure out what it is. My hair now has thin pale blonde streaks. It’s always been a boring brown until now, nothing special, but those new highlights… I grudgingly admit that I like them. Even if they remind me of Torben’s blond hair. Damn that man. He’s even infiltrated my hair – wasn’t my heart and mindenough?
I look down at my hands and smile as I see that my normal fingernails have returned. I wonder if the claws were a one-off, but judging from Torben’s expression when he saw them for the first time, I don’t think so. I’ve changed permanently and I still don’t know the extent of thesechanges.
My stomach growls again. “Yeah, let’s get you something to eat,” I say to myself (and my stomach), breaking the eerie silence of the cottage. I can easily imagine the ghost of the previous occupant still lingering here. Although maybe she’s still alive somewhere. But for now, I’m grateful that she has left and I can now take her home as my own. Rent free. I smile at that. Money used to be so important before the Drowning. I spent most of the week making plans for what I’d spend my pocket money on. Now I couldn’t care less. Money was irrelevant, all that was important was having enough food and supplies to survive. Which I had, for now. I should really be rationing the canned goods I had. Arnold and Bertrand had talked about a trading ship coming here occasionally, but I had nothing to trade for. Thinking about it, even the clothes I was wearing weren’t mine. If I thought I was poor before, it was nothing againstnow.
But I had myself. That sounded really sad. Okay, I had Bonnie and Clyde as well. And my rumbling stomach. All three of which were not the best company. I better get used to being on my own. Alone with mythoughts.
The baked beans are delicious, even though they’re cold. Sweet and savoury at the same time… yummy. I had planned to eat only half the tin, but hunger took over. Now it’s empty and I curse my missing self-control. I better explore my surroundings tomorrow, maybe I’ll find a source of food somewhere. Even if it’s just someroots.
It’s getting dark quickly so I retire to my bedroom. Strange how in my mind, it’s already ‘my’ room. My newhome.
As expected, the blanket is very scratchy and the mattress uncomfortable, but exhaustion has finally caught up with me and I fall asleepquickly.
* * *
Aloud knockwakes me and I jump out of bed, fully awake. A sharp pain in my fingertips tells me my claws have come out again. I tiptoe to the front door which I managed to pull shut last night despite the cracks and mouldy bits in thewood.
“Hello?” I call but there’s no reply. I walk into the kitchen to look out of the window. Nothing. Maybe I imagined theknocking.
I open the front door and freeze as I see large paw prints in the fresh snow. Someone was here, but the trail runs to and away from the house. Whoever was here has already left. The prints come all the way to the door and – oh. A basket is lying right in front of me. How did I not notice that before? I’m a terribledetective.
I hesitate. If I take it, is that a sign of defeat? Of giving in to their pressure? Should I leave it as a clear sign that I no longer want anything to do withthem?
But I can’t resist my curiosity and take the basket inside. Probably a mistake, but I couldn’t do anything today without wondering what they brought me. Bastards, manipulating me in thisway.
There’s a piece of folded paper on top of the basket. The writing is delicate and in blue ink; I doubt it was one of the guys who wrotethis.
Isla,
I’ve told them to give you some space, but know that you’re always welcome to come back. The boys have moved into one of the houses in the village, so our spare bedroom is all yours, if you wish. They’ve promised not to seek you out until you’re ready. We’d love to explain everything as I’m sure you have manyquestions.
Bertie will come again tomorrow morning, if you rather leave a message forus.
If you want to come back, just follow histrail.
Yours,
Arnold &Bertrand
I smile at his carefully worded letter. It’s not their fault what happened. They were simply our hosts, generous ones at that. I wish I’d had the chance to get to know them better, but right now, I associate them too much with the guys. And I know that would make me lash out at them. I don’t want to hurt Arnold and Bertrand, but I feel the rage in me will not differentiate between the six men. I’ve never felt as aggressive as now. I’ve always preferred talking over fighting. But not now. I want to hit something, kill something. The rage scares me and I push it back. Now is not the time to getangry.
I pull back the cloth covering the basket. Inside is a blanket, some paper and a pen, a wrapped-up sandwich, a thermos can filled with hot tea and a round tin containing a cake. Where did they get a cake from? I sniff at it. Carrot cake. Heavenly. Guess what my breakfast is going tobe.
I find some cutlery and sit down at the kitchen table, enjoying the cake. It really is amazing. As is the tea, still hot enough to almost burn my mouth. With every sip, my mood improves and my anger lessens. If Torben and the guys weren’t still in that village, I’d return to stay with Arnold and Bertrand, at least for a while, until I decide what to do. And until I find out what’s happened tome.
Even though I don’t want to believe it, I think it must be a partial shift that’s somehow got something to do with sleeping with Torben. Although I don’t think losing your virginity usually changes your eye colour and causes you to grow claws. If it did, there’d be no children. I imagine holding a baby in my clawed hands and shiver. And remember last night. And shiver again. We didn’t use any protection. Can humans get pregnant with bear shifters? Or are our genes incompatible? I really hope the latter. I’ve got enough to deal with rightnow.
Now that I’m sated, I think about what to do today. I should probably explore my surroundings. If I stay here for a while, I need to figure out where exactly I am and what kind of resources I have around me. Oh, and build a toilet. That’s becoming a rather pressingmatter.
I decide to go barefoot again. The only shoes I have don’t fit and I want to keep the slippers dry. I didn’t feel the cold yesterday, and I don’t feel it now either. It’s like walking on sun-warmed sand rather than on snow. Weird. My eyes are telling me that it should be freezing, but my body refuses to believe that. How am I able to produce this much body heat without beingfeverish?
Now that I’m outside, I can see more bear tracks around the house. Either Bertrand came to visit me several times or someone else was here. I guess it was wishful thinking that the guys would leave me alone. They may have promised Arnold that they would not seek me out, but promises don’t seem to matter to them. How did I ever think they were trustworthy? I should have run as soon as I found out what they were. If I hadn’t hurt my ankle, I likely would have. But instead, they managed to weasel their way into my heart. And now it’s broken. Damnbears.
I try not to look at the tracks, they only make me angry. Instead, I walk around the house, looking for any tools that might help. I don’t find any peat for a fire, but hidden under a foot of snow is a smallshovel.
