Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
FENRIK
I ran down the path out of our tribe at full speed. I didn’t know how many would come after me, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I would run all night if I had to. I couldn’t risk whatever they would do to me if they caught me. I didn’t know the punishment for refusing to take the jarl’s daughter as a mate, but I wasn’t about to find out. Jarl Gorm was a fierce warrior with a vindictive streak. The last time someone questioned his decision about refusing to trade with another tribe, he exiled them, saying if they trusted other tribes more, they might as well go join them.
The punishment for rejecting his daughter would be far worse.
I ran into the night, eating up the miles, but I eventually had to acknowledge I needed shelter. Snaerfire was isolated, up above the tree line, but had a few outposts scattered for hunters to seek refuge in, should they get caught in a storm or go on a several-day hunt. I hadn’t been to an outpost since I had first joined the hunters, but if I remembered correctly, there was one due west. Getting there would take me at least another hour, but it was my safest option.
My steps slowed and my heart rate lowered. With a plan, I could channel my energy in the right direction. I was a hunter. Already, I’d passed beyond where the tribe would continue to look for me. There was no one who knew this area better than me, and it was too cold to search all night.
I walked, following the rough direction I knew the cabin to be, hoping my árs-old memory wouldn’t lead me astray. I walked and walked, my feet growing sluggish and my hands going numb with the cold. I had been out and exposed to the elements for hours. It wasn’t the cold season yet, but this high up in the mountains, the temperature plummeted when the sun went down. I continued, but I was losing my strength the longer I walked. I almost gave up when I saw the cabin rising in the distance. I used my last bit of energy to sprint flat out.
The door wasn’t locked. It was designed for anyone’s use, and only our tribe came this high up into the mountains, but it was pitch black inside. I walked in slowly, with my hands outstretched. Using my hands, I skimmed the wall until I found the fireplace. Kneeling in front of the fire place with the fire starter, I struck it, hoping for the best. After several attempts, I was rewarded with a tiny, fragile flame, barely enough to show me the inside of the cabin. But it gave me enough light to see the logs stacked neatly beside the fire.
I set to work building the fire, hands shaking from the numbness and the cold. I was so grateful to find significant refuge at that—my heart clenched. As the fire roared to life, my fingers ached while the feeling returned to them, but that was a good sign. I knelt before the fire, hands raised to it, trying to absorb all the warmth I could.
Eventually, I stood, feeling weak, and looked around the cabin. It was larger than I remembered, equipped with a full kitchen, a dusty couch, and a dining table. I peered into one of the rooms to find a large, sagging bed. The bedroom had a second fireplace that I would need to build up to stay warm through the night. The other door opened into a small washroom with a sink and a toilet due to the attention of previous generations. This was much better than I could have anticipated.
I sat down on the dusty couch and stared into the fire. Though warm and comfortable now, I couldn’t stay in the cabin forever. Eventually, the tribe would realize it was occupied.
The whole situation was a mess. I had nothing against Kelda but didn’t want to be her mate. And I definitely didn’t want to be mated to the jarl’s daughter. The very thought of that kind of expectation made me feel ill. I had no interest in politics. Jarl Gorm wanted me to marry Kelda so that one day we could rule the tribe together.
But I was a hunter. I wanted a simple life. I wanted to find a mate, have a few orklings, and live peacefully in the mountains. I rolled around the permanency of my decision to run from Snaerfire in my head. What if I had just given up any opportunity to have a mate? A permanent home? Kelda wasn’t my Elska mate, but she wasn’t bad to look at. I didn’t care for how she treated the tribe, as if she was above us all. I could never feel comfortable in that kind of relationship. By publicly humiliating her and turning her down, had I just destined my life to one of solitude, traversing from outpost to outpost, living out my days in silence?
I put my head in my hands. A lifetime alone sounded almost as terrible as a lifetime mated to Kelda. I stared into the flames as the minutes ticked by. I tried to think of other options. Joining any of the different tribes was out of the question. They weren’t to be trusted. I doubted they would even take me in, considering how we’d treated all of their peacekeeping envoys in the past.
Gorm trusted no orkin outside of Snaerfire.
I let out a sigh and stood. I couldn’t solve this tonight. Maybe some sleep would help me come up with new options. I took the fire starter and some wood into the small bedroom and got the fire going nice and large—large enough to last most of the night. I removed my cloak and hung it by the door before removing my boots. It was too cold to take off any of my other layers, so I climbed into the cold bed, wishing the warmth from the fire would spread faster.
I couldn’t find sleep for a long time. I tossed and turned, catastrophizing about how Gorm would react when he realized I had no intention of returning or taking Kelda as my mate. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to kill me with his bare hands. After what felt like ages, I warmed up and drifted into a fretful sleep.
I dreamt that there was a large light overhead, brighter than the moon, shining down on the little cabin. I had never seen anything like it. It was blinding, coming through every window and crack in the walls. I tried to shield my eyes, but the light came through all the same. I jerked awake and realized the light wasn’t in my dream. It was outside the cabin. There was no way anyone from our tribe could make a light like that—we relied on gas and oil lamps when available—and torches when not. I got out of bed and attempted to peer out the window without being seen.
The clearing in front of the cabin was lit up even brighter than I could imagine. A large silver disk floated above the trees, almost blocking the entire night sky. The beam was coming from the disk. I looked to see where it was focused, and there, in the middle of the clearing, lay a small, limp figure. As I tried to figure out what it was, the silver disc shot straight upward, taking its light, and sped off into the night sky. With the disk gone, I could barely make out the clearing before me, let alone whatever had been illuminated. What the hell had I just witnessed?
I ran to the kitchen, shuffled through the cupboards, and was grateful to find a dusty oil lamp. It looked as if it hadn’t been used for several seasons, but there was still oil in it. I decided to give it a go and was rewarded with a tiny flicker of a flame. I grabbed my cloak and headed out to the clearing. The night was pitch black, with no moon to speak of. It took me a moment to find what I’d seen, and when I finally did, I had no idea what to make of it.
There it was, crumpled on the ground, still and tiny. It looked kind of like an orc, but only in the most basic way. It had two arms, two legs, and a head with long yellow hair cascading over its face. But that was where the similarities ended. It was much smaller than any orkin I'd seen, and its skin wasn't our usual green—it was a creamy color. And way too much of it was exposed for comfort out in the cold.
I nudged it with my toe, half expecting it to jump up and attack. Nothing. So, I crouched down to get a better look. As I examined it, I realized I had to stop thinking of it as an “it”—whatever it was, it was someone. Their skin was freezing to the touch.
Throwing caution to the wind, I scooped them up and hurried back to the cabin. They needed to get warm. Cold skin wasn’t a good sign, regardless of where they’d come from. I pulled them close, using my body heat to protect them. I looked down at their face as I rushed back and realized whatever I was carrying was female. Her face was similar to an orkin’s, with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, but her features were delicate and soft. Light brown lashes fanned out below her closed eyes and her tiny pink mouth hung open. Whatever she was, she was beautiful. Her tiny tunic was a blinding shade of pink I had never seen on Niflheim and was skin-tight, revealing subtle feminine curves. She had the smallest satchel I’d ever seen hooked over her shoulder. I pulled her delicate limbs closer to me, trying to provide all the warmth that I could.
I took her into the small bedroom and wrapped her up in the blankets of the bed. I placed her bag on the floor by the bed before adding logs to the fire. I used all of them to get the fire blazing. I could chop more in the morning. Once I got the fire underway, I checked on her again. I attempted to rearrange the blankets to get her bundled even tighter. I wrapped her up in as many blankets as I could, trying to think if there was any other way to get her warm. This was the best I could offer, so it would have to do. I placed my hand on her forehead and was pleased to feel her skin warming up. I sat down on the dusty armchair next to the bed and decided to keep watch. While I was worried for my own safety, this small fragile female was now relying on me. There was nothing I could do for her until she stirred.