Frostbitten (24 page)

“I’m not your son,”
Frost remarked bitterly, glaring at Symon as he passed him to get to Anastasia.
Once at her side, Frost took the empty beer stein from her. “Please, Anastasia,
you need to sleep.”

“Frost, I don’t think
now’s the time...” Anastasia began to say, realizing that he was avoiding the
confrontation with his father.

“Don’t worry about
anything other than getting better,” Frost interrupted with a whisper, while
leaning over to kiss Anastasia’s forehead. “I love you.”

Acknowledging how very
tired she was and that she couldn’t help anyone while in her current state,
Anastasia lay back down in the bed. Reaching for Frost’s hand, she gave it a
gentle, loving squeeze. She wanted Frost to understand that she would always be
there for him, especially during painful times such as these.

Now closing her eyes,
Anastasia allowed her body to sink deeper into the feathery bed which was,
ironically, a little too soft to be comfortable. She feared that she wouldn’t
be able to sleep as the water in the bucket began to boil harshly and Symon
scurried in the cabin, likely getting ready to prepare the rabbit. However, her
concerns were unfounded as the exertion of today, along with that soothing,
sweet tea, soon sent her into slumber.

Illness had always
caused Anastasia to have odd dreams, and tonight was no exception. She found
herself back at the clearing where she’d first encountered Symon, but in this
version of events, Frost had never arrived. Instead, she remained on the frozen
ground, terrified as Symon, in his shape-shifted form, loomed over her. As he
drew closer, his once distorted appearance became clearer until every feature
was distinct. Full of fear, Anastasia turned her head to avoid Symon’s intense,
glowing eyes which had creepily doubled in size. Then she screamed. Blood
covered the ground where she lay, and it was spreading outwards until the whole
clearing was saturated red.

A loud bang, which
sounded similar to a bullet being shot, awoke Anastasia with a start. Her heart
raced, even after she’d realized that it was just a dream, because in reality, things
weren’t that much better. Finally looking around, she saw nothing that could’ve
caused such a noise. In fact, everything was oddly calm. Symon sat in the
rocking chair, while Frost stood beside him, talking quietly as the rabbit
stewed over small, crackling flames. Anastasia was about to call out to Frost
when she heard what was being discussed.

“Even if it feels right
to love her, it’s not,” Symon warned Frost. “Take Anastasia back to her family,
and let her live a normal life without you.”

“I’m not looking for
fatherly advice,” Frost stated coolly. “I came to warn you about the werewolf
hunt, and now that I have, there’s nothing left to say.”

“Don’t listen to me
because I’m your father,” Symon replied in a hurried, distraught tone. “Listen
to me because I’ve been there. Your mother was a regular woman when we met in
these woods and fell in love. I would’ve done anything for Erin, including
turning her into a werewolf when she begged me to do so. She had a
romanticized
idea of what it meant to be a lycanthrope, but I
should’ve known better.
I did it because I loved her – she died because I loved her.”

Slowly, Frost
responded, “I’m not you.”

Symon sighed before
standing up and heading toward the door. He’d only taken one step outside when
he unexpectedly turned around. “Please come with me, Frost,” he practically
begged. “Let me make it up to you. We’ll take Anastasia to the hospital, where
her family can find her. It’s the best option for her.”

“Goodbye, Symon,” Frost
said with a serious expression, “and good luck.”

As Frost passed by, on
route to shut the door after Symon’s departure, Anastasia closed her eyes and
pretended to be asleep. Although it seemed foolish, she knew that the last
thing Frost needed to be worrying about was her, especially after what had just
been said. When she carefully opened her eyes a few moments later, she saw a
sad-looking Frost holding Symon’s clothing and rubber boots. Symon had
shape-shifted into a werewolf and would be fleeing for his mere survival right
now. In comparison to his life, both past and present, Anastasia realized that
she and Frost were by far the fortunate ones.

* * *

Part
Nine: Deathly

Over the course of
three days, Symon’s old, tiny cabin became a second home to Anastasia and
Frost. It was there, under the careful supervision of Frost, that Anastasia
rested in bed and ate rabbit stew until finally, her fever broke and she
regained her strength. She’d even grown fond of their secret place in the
woods. Most cherished of all were the evenings spent with Frost, simply
cuddling in front of the fire that glowed deep hues of yellow and orange.
Although she felt safe and comfortable there, Anastasia couldn’t forget about
the dangers that awaited them outside.

At this moment,
somewhere in the woods, Frost was exposed to those very dangers as he hunted
for their lunch. He’d promised to bring back a fish, along with a bucket of
water since constantly melting snow was tiresome and a strain on their firewood
supply. However, as Anastasia grew impatient and yearned for fresh air, she
decided that gathered snow would have to suffice.

After putting on her
winter clothing and retrieving the bucket, Anastasia stepped outside. She was
immediately met with a cold wind that whipped at her face and made the trees
bend and creak. Since Anastasia had been cooped up in the cabin for so long, it
felt refreshing to be outdoors, but that didn’t mean she was going to venture
far – she’d never be that foolish again.

Taking only a few
steps, Anastasia leaned over and scooped snow into the bucket. She was almost
finished when something unusual caught her attention. There, against the
pristine white snow, were several muddy werewolf prints which definitely
belonged to Frost. Furrowing her brow, Anastasia wondered where the mud had come
from, but she couldn’t find any explanation for it. Curiosity overcame her as
she started to follow the prints which led to the back of the cabin. From
there, they went in a straight line, southwards from the cabin, before
disappearing down a slope.

Leaving the bucket at
the top of the slope, Anastasia carefully proceeded downwards, making sure to
dig her heels into the snow to prevent herself from falling. Unfortunately, her
efforts were done in vain as she lost her footing and began to slide quickly.
Anastasia let out a surprised gasp after landing with a hard thud. It wasn’t
the fall that had startled her, though; it was the circular, three foot wide
hole in the snowy slope which had left her speechless.

With a loud gulp,
Anastasia inched forward on all fours. It was like she’d become an animal who
was returning to her den, because she knew with no uncertain doubt that this
hole was indeed a creature’s home. From the size and location, it seemed
fitting that the den would belong to a wolf. However, what Anastasia couldn’t
figure out was why Frost’s increasingly muddy prints led inside and,
especially, why he hadn’t mentioned any of this to her.

As Anastasia slowly
crawled into the den, she brushed aside several tree branches that had likely
concealed the entrance until recently. Continuing forward, her body now blocked
the little light which had streamed in from outside. Yet, the only thing that
concerned Anastasia was her nose. Food had been left to decompose somewhere
inside, and was that urine she smelled? Suppressing the urge to be sick,
Anastasia quickly backed out of the den.

Anxiously, Anastasia
struggled up the slope, grabbed the bucket and then ran as fast as she could
toward the cabin. She ignored the extra weight of the bucket and didn’t even
flinch as it swung wildly, hitting her leg on several occasions. Right now, all
that mattered was finding answers.

When Anastasia reached
the cabin, she flung the door open and hurried inside. She was disappointed,
and also a little scared, to learn that Frost still hadn’t come back. Unsure of
what to do, Anastasia began to pace nervously. That’s when her eyes settled
upon the old-looking journal that Frost had been reading faithfully for the
last few days. Anastasia picked up the journal, but she didn’t open it right
away. Instead, she ran her fingers over the faded black leather cover, all the
while thinking how odd it was that a man like Symon had chronicled so many of
his thoughts and feelings.

Frost had found the
journal behind a pile of firewood, as if Symon had meant for it to stay hidden.
Most of the entries that Frost had read to her detailed the growing
relationship between Erin and Symon; however, there were many times when he’d
read silently, while bearing a very serious expression upon his face. Now, more
than ever, Anastasia wanted to know exactly what Frost had been keeping from
her. Opening the journal, she skimmed through the yellowed pages, stopping only
when she came across a disconcerting entry that had obviously been written
hastily and with much emotion.

February 24
^th

It’s been three days –
three long, agonizing days since Erin’s murder. But what does time matter,
anyway? Unless I could reverse it, nothing will bring her back to us. Somehow,
Russell knows that everything has changed; he just won’t stop crying. My heart
is broken, and all I see is darkness. As this anger courses through my veins, I
know I’m not in control of my actions.

When I last felt like
this, it was because I’d turned Erin into a werewolf. During those dreadful
twenty four hours of Incubation, I thought I would go insane. And I would have,
if it wasn’t for the guidance of my old, dear friend, Julia. However, not even
all the members of the founding family could help me now. The war has already
begun, and there’s no going back.

More confused than
ever, Anastasia stopped reading. Although Symon’s absolute anger was apparent,
that’s where the clarity ended. Was Julia part of the founding family? Symon
certainly seemed to be alluding to that conclusion. Unfortunately, what exactly
they had founded was also unclear. Perhaps it was Cedar Falls, but that was
just another guess. Furthermore, what the hell was Incubation? Anastasia
furrowed her brow for the second time that day, before continuing to the next
journal entry.

February 27
^th

My fangs and claws are
marred by the blood of Erin’s murderers, but I haven’t found solace in my
revenge. I only feel a deep, dark hole inside of me, and it grows bigger every
day. Hatred and vengeance have become my life, yet who is there left to blame
but myself? If Erin had never met me, she’d be alive today. Like all the
hunters involved in that fatal chase, I’m also responsible. How can I possibly
continue living while knowing what I’ve done? I brought death to the love of my
life, and I can’t bear to think what troubles will befall Russell if he stays
with me.

March 1
^st

Hell has been unleashed
in Cedar Falls Woods. The hunters are everywhere and more keep arriving daily
with faster snowmobiles and bigger rifles. They are after all wolves, and I’ve
seen many innocent ones slaughtered. Although I know I started this war, I no
longer have the desire to finish it. All that matters is that Russell is safe
with his new family. Erin would understand why I did this, but now, I truly
have nothing left in the world.

During these deadly
times, I shouldn’t be a werewolf; yet, that’s all I can be. I’m turning more
frequently and for longer periods of time. When I attempt to return to my human
form, the transformation is almost impossible. Despite having never experienced
this before, I know what’s happening, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
The wolf inside of me
will
take over.

Completely engrossed by
Symon’s words, Anastasia turned the page, but unfortunately, it was blank. As
she quickly flipped through the rest of the journal, she discovered that
nothing else had been written. Letting out a short, disappointed sigh,
Anastasia closed the journal and was about to return it to the table when she
saw something which chilled her to the bone. There, on the back cover, was a
muddy paw print.

Anastasia’s mind raced
as she stared at the print which undoubtedly belonged to Symon. As he’d
predicted, the wolf had overpowered his human self, and it was all because of
his uncontrollable anger and guilt – two emotions which were capable of
destroying a person or even a beast. Anastasia now understood why Frost hadn’t
shared this part of the journal or his unearthing of Symon’s den; he was afraid
of the same thing happening to him. Initially, she’d been certain that finding
Frost’s parents would help him deal with his transformation woes, but
regrettably, it had only made everything much worse.

Suddenly, Anastasia
heard someone running outside. Whoever it was sounded heavy-footed, like they
were in a great hurry. A few seconds later, Frost burst into the cabin,
bare-naked and with an expression of complete fear upon his face. Instantly, he
placed the palms of his hands against his forehead and paced back and forth, as
if willing himself to think. Not saying a single word, the only noises came
from Frost’s quick steps and his rapid, shallow breathing.

“What is it?” Anastasia
demanded with a racing heart, unable to take the suspense which Frost had
created.

“I’ve ruined
everything,” Frost choked out. “It’s all over.”

Grabbing Frost by his
shoulders, she forced him to stop pacing and instead look at her. “Breathe,”
she instructed, “and then tell me what’s wrong.”

Frost took a deep,
shaky breath, but it did little to calm him down. “They...they know,” he
stuttered, almost as if he was in shock. “They saw me shape-shift into a
werewolf.”

Feeling her knees go
weak, Anastasia tightened her grip on Frost. Although this seemed like the
worst possible thing that could happen, she knew that she must stay strong,
especially since Frost wasn’t currently doing a very good job at keeping
himself together.

“You need to tell me
everything that happened,” Anastasia said gently.

“I guess I wasn’t
really paying attention because my mind was on my father and how much I wished
I could forget about him. Before I knew it, I’d reached the Great Rapids and
moments after shape-shifting, I saw them – Mike, Leo, Pete, Mr. Fairbanks, and
your grandfather. A few shots were fired, but I was too fast. Even though I
managed to lead them far away from here, they won’t stop until they’ve found
and killed me. We have to leave now.”

Anastasia opened her
mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could she possibly say, anyway? Her
grandfather, along with four men she’d known for practically her whole life, had
just tried to murder the guy she loved. However, Anastasia didn’t question for
a second where her loyalties lay. The hunters were wrong, and if they refused
to acknowledge that, she wanted nothing to do with any of them.

“Get your coat,” Frost
instructed as he put on his father’s clothing and boots. “If they find us while
we’re in the cabin, we won’t have any chance of escaping.”

“Why are you getting
dressed?” Anastasia asked, expecting him to turn into a werewolf at any given
moment.

“I have to do this as a
human,” Frost replied solemnly.

“Are you crazy?”
Anastasia shrieked. “We can’t outrun them like that!”

“We don’t have a
choice,” Frost said, his voice now filled with regret. “It was difficult to
shape-shift at the Great Rapids, and minutes before I reached the cabin, I
turned back into a human against my will. I’m trying, Anastasia, but I can’t
become a werewolf anymore.”

Desperately studying
Frost, Anastasia wondered what could’ve caused the sudden change. After all,
the original problem they’d set out to cure was completely opposite to his
current one. Something significant must have recently happened to Frost, and as
Anastasia’s eyes fell upon Symon’s journal, she finally understood what it was.

“I’ve read it,”
Anastasia said abruptly, while pointing directly at the journal, “and that is
not
your fate.”

“It’s worse than you
think,” Frost said, lowering his head sadly. “There’s a reason why this cabin
was so dusty and bare – my father hadn’t been living here for years. He stayed
in a den, Anastasia. He became a full-time werewolf.”

Gently, Anastasia took
Frost’s hand and placed it against his heart. “I know about the den,” she said
softly. “It must have been a terrible way to live, but don’t you get it, Frost?
Seeing you restored his humanity.”

Apparently processing
Anastasia’s words, Frost was silent for a moment. Then, he quickly released
himself from her grasp and took a few steps backwards. With a look of
determination upon his face, he shut his eyes tightly, as if concentrating very
hard on something. Frost remained that way for several minutes, but when he
failed to transform into a werewolf, he opened his eyes and let out a
frustrated sigh.

“It’s okay,” Anastasia
said, hurrying to put on her coat, gloves and scarf. Since she couldn’t force
Frost to become a werewolf, their next best option was to run for their lives.
“Do you know how to get to Hartfield?” she asked, while quickly dumping the
bucket of snow over the already dying fire.

“I’m certain it’s only
a few miles away,” Frost answered with a nod, before opening the door. “We
should be able to reach there before nightfall.”