Shifters Gone Wild; Collection

by Skye MacKinnon

  I stop him with a single look of pure fury. I am livid.

  “Just tell me one thing. Did you know this could happen?”

  He swallows hard, but says nothing.

  A tear runs down my cheek. I thought I was safe with them. I trusted them. Trusted him. But I was wrong. I should have learned from the past. Trust is dangerous.

  I can’t let him see me cry. I don’t want to give him that power over me.

  I barge past him and run down the corridor, my barefoot feet loud on the wooden floor, hurting my head, but I keep running, out of the house, into the snow, away from the men that I thought were my friends.

  * * *

  For once, I don’t feel the cold. In contrary, the running makes me warm and I revel in the feeling of my hot skin on the snow. It isn’t fresh snow and a thin layer of ice has formed on the top which cracks whenever I step on it. Most of the times, I sink in, making running more difficult. But my mind isn’t focussed on my surroundings. In my head I see Torben, Finn, Húnn and Ràn, staring at me, at my new eyes, at my claws.

  The claws on my toes have retracted at some point, but they are still very much present on my hands. I keep my gaze away from them. They are proof that I am different and that everything has changed. I thought I had found people I could trust. On Salvation Island, I’d always been alone, had always fought for myself. I had a single friend, and when she left, I felt even more alone than I had before. Finding the bears had awoken something in me that I had kept buried for a long time. Ever since my parents died and I moved in with my uncle. I gave myself hope to finally have friends. People who actually cared for me. Who wanted me to be around not as a bargaining chip, but because they liked me.

  I should have known it wasn’t real. That it wouldn’t last.

  I should never have opened my heart to them. Now it’s hurting, bleeding, and there’s nobody to catch me.

  I stop and wipe away the hot tears on my cheeks. I have no idea how long I’ve been running for. I can’t see anything but low hills covered in snow. I must be far inland, and I’m realising I have no idea how big this island is. When we arrived, we’d been travelling for days and I was too tired to look around properly. Now I wish that I had. My new claws won’t help me survive out here. I may no longer feel cold but that doesn’t mean it will stay that way. I’m wearing nothing but my nightie and I’m barefoot. Talk about being ill-prepared.

  There is no shelter out here. Not even a single tree. The only plants are a few bushes, the rest is covered in snow.

  The weather has changed so much in the past few years. Everyone thought the sea levels would increase further, but at some point, it just stopped. Then it became colder. Not ice-age kind of cold, but the seasons became more pronounced. In Scotland, there had never been much difference between the seasons. It was windy and wet most months, with a bit more sun in the summer and a bit more cold in the winter. But now, our winters are really cold. We get snow for months in a row, something that only happened in the Highlands before. And it’s getting colder every year. Maybe it is the beginning of an ice age, but without scientists or a global communications network, I doubt I will find out.

  As a child, snow amazed me. I spent hours playing with the white fluffy stuff falling from the sky. Now, it’s threatening my survival. And I am going to survive, bears or not. I owe that to myself. I’ve fought for most of my life and I’m not going to stop now. Not because of a few claws.

  This won’t beat me.

  I smile at my resolution. The old Isla is back. The young woman who doesn’t cry, who doesn’t get carried around by men. I am not weak. I’m going to make it through this.

  I look up at the sun. It’s almost reached its zenith, which means I’ve been running for at least three hours. It felt more like minutes than hours to me. I will need to get used to these new senses and feelings. I seem to be a lot stronger now as well. I’ve never been particularly sporty, and running for more than ten minutes made me out of breath. Now, I just ran for several hours. My body has definitely changed. A lot. Once I find shelter, I will investigate further. I’m a trained healer and my mind has always been methodical. If there’s a question, I will figure out an answer.

  But first things first. What I need is a tree, or cave, or even just a hollow where I can make my base. Our hosts said that everyone on the island had left, so maybe there are other abandoned houses away from the village. That would be ideal. A little cottage for myself. But how am I supposed to find one?

  Mmmhm. If I was to build a house, I’d want it to be near water. Not exposed. Space around it for fields or pastures. And not too far away from the sea. Which still doesn’t help. I have no idea where the sea is and I haven’t seen any small streams or rivers.

  I sigh and begin running again, straight on. Maybe I’ll finally have some luck and miraculously find a place of shelter.

  And if not, I’ll just have to spend the night outside and continue my search tomorrow. But it’s only midday, I still have time. And despite running for hours, I’m not exhausted at all. In contrary, I feel more alive than I ever have. Energy is running through my veins, looking for an outlet. I’d love to have a punching bag right now.

  Totally weird. I’ve never boxed in my life. Why the hell am I thinking of punching something?

  I smirk. It might have something to do with four bear shifters. Oh how I’d love to punch them all. Between the legs, preferably. Especially Torben. He betrayed my trust and I’m going to make him suffer for that. Not now. I’ve got other priorities now. But I’m going to lock up this rage for the future. It will be ready for when I confront Torben and his bears, and he’s not going to know what hit him.

  Chapter 9

  I never liked the name Salvation Island. But right now, I’m tempted to call the little house beckoning to me in the distance Salvation Cottage.

  It’s almost nightfall and I’ve been running all day, but I still feel only a tiny bit exhausted. I could likely run for another few hours. It will take some time to get used to this unlimited energy.

  I slide down the slope of the hill I’m on, getting ever closer to the cottage. It’s tiny, probably just a room or two, but it’s perfect. It’s got a roof and a door, what else does a girl want. Maybe there’s even a fireplace, although I doubt that there’s a peat supply left. With no trees on this island, they’re using peat as their source of fuel. Arnold and Bertrand had a big stack of it in a hut in their garden, but this cottage might not have that. Oh well, I’ll make do with whatever I find in there.

  Five minutes later, I enter my new home. The door is askew and a layer of snow has gathered in the entrance hall. The house is just as cold as the outside, but at least it’s dry. There’s a coat rack at the end of the tiny hallway, and a door on either side. I open the one on the left first and enter the kitchen. An old fashioned stove is surrounded by a sink and a few dust-covered cabinets, and a wooden table and two chairs complete the room. It’s small but quaint. I imagine an old grandmother living here, making porridge in the large rusty pot still standing on the stove.

  I rummage through the cupboard and squeal in delight when I find a lonely tin of baked beans. It’s a pre-Drowning delicacy that I’ve only had once in my life. I’ll feast like a queen tonight.

  There’s no other food to be found in the cupboards, this one tin must have been left by mistake when the previous occupants left. I’m about to go explore the other room when I notice a small door at the far end of the kitchen. Curiously I open it and… laugh. More food!

  Dozens of tins are waiting for their new home – my stomach. It’s mostly soups and stews, but I find one more can of baked beans and two of sugared peaches. I remember my mother putting those on pancakes, together with a generous sprinkling of cinnamon, and my stomach growls.

  I’m tempted to open one immediately and devour all the sugary goodness in one go, but my mind wins the fight with my stomach. Let’s explore the house first before I eat.

  The other room is a small bed
room with an old-fashioned double bed. It looks like one of those creaking beds where you can feel every single spring whenever you turn. There is no bedding left on it, but I find a scratchy blanket in the wardrobe – together with some clothes. Granted, they’re twice my size and stuff that was in fashion fifty years ago, but it’ll do. Better than walking around in a nightie. I choose some leggings and a large fluffy jumper and immediately feel more comfortable. I even find a scarf to wrap around my waist like a belt to keep the jumper from getting in the way. The only shoes though are high heels which are at least two sizes too small, and a pair of felt slippers. I will need to find an alternative for outside, but for now, the slippers will do. The floor is covered in dust and my bare feet already have a grey shine to them.

  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 be prepared.

  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 see anything.

  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 mind enough?

  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 these changes.

  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 against now.

  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 my thoughts.

  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 some roots.

  It’s getting dark quickly so I retire to my bedroom. Strange how in my mind, it’s already ‘my’ room. My new home.

  As expected, the blanket is very scratchy and the mattress uncomfortable, but exhaustion has finally caught up with me and I fall asleep quickly.

  * * *

  A loud knock wakes 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 the wood.

  “Hello?” I call but there’s no reply. I walk into the kitchen to look out of the window. Nothing. Maybe I imagined the knocking.

  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 terrible detective.

  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 with them?

  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 this way.

  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 wrote this.

  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 many questions.

  Bertie will come again tomorrow morning, if you rather leave a message for us.

  If you want to come back, just follow his trail.

  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 get angry.

  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 to be.

  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 to me.

  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 right now.

  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 pressing matter.

  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 being feverish?

  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. Damn bears.

  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 small shovel.

  Time to practice my toilet-building skills.

  * * *

  The day passes quickly. I’ve walked for about a mile in each direction but there’s not been anything exciting. To the west I found a small stream which is currently covered in ice. For now, I’m melting snow to use as drinking and washing water, but it’s good to know that there’s an alternative not too far away. The sandwich Bertrand brought me is a lovely dinner. I’m surprised that all the physical exertion isn’t making me hungrier, but the opposite is true. I missed lunch but didn’t feel hungry at all. The only reason I’m eating the sandwich now is because it’s a habit to eat something in the evening.

  The piece of paper is lying next to me, waiting to be filled with words. I don’t know what to write. If I want to write something at all. On one hand, I’ve got so many questions, but on the other hand, I just want to ignore it all and be by myself. Get away from the world for a bit. With the ‘world’ being four bear shifters in particular.