by Rosie Harper
“SMITE ME!!!” The fake Katya exclaimed, seemingly having overpowered the storm with her voice, as the two words echoed over the surrounding landscape. Then, she realized, as the snowflakes suddenly stopped splashing against her delicate features. The storm was no more.
***
The work was difficult, and it took her several hours, but by the time she was done, Anya had herself a manageable little place to dry up and have a rest. The perimeter surrounding her temporary little encampment had been scouted out, the necessary fire lit, and the one person tent erected. Staying close to the fire, the girl who chose to be the Bear Spirit’s tribute finally had the chance to consume her lunch while summarizing her plans.
Katya should be well awake by now, she silently told herself, but none of them will be able to do a thing by this point. As the heat of the campfire made her feel alive again, the girl remembered how timid and ill-suited to outdoor survival her friend always was. Even if the story of the Bear Spirit was true, Anya’s best friend was unlikely to survive the voyage even without the thing eating her up.
While I, on the other hand, still have a chance, she repeated the fact to herself. Anya was a born and bred survivor, trained from the youngest age by her father. Most of the dangers of the White Unknown were trivial for one such as her. If there was a way for a person to survive this ordeal, she would most certainly find it.
Momentarily dazzled by the brilliant display emitted by the flame before her, Anya almost didn’t hear the unpleasant growling sound that slowly surrounded the encampment. Reflexively, the girl leapt to her feet, pointy stick in hand, ready to face whatever was approaching.
Wolves, she realized, after turning around quickly several times and positioning herself so her back was not turned toward any one of them. A pack of five.
In theory, wolves were easy to outwit, Anya remembered. The whole trick, her father would say, lied in not showing any fear, nor running away. Being essentially wild dogs, these animals are incapable of attacking a target unless it was running away.
In practice, however, the whole thing took on a new level of difficulty. Facing with a pack of snarling, creeping beasts, would be enough to put anyone’s nerves to test. Anya, however, had a lingering fear of these creatures.
“So we meet again,” the girl spoke to the largest of the lot, whom she assumed to be their alpha. In response, the animal growled toward her, eyes bloodshot with hunger and fury. Arms shivering slightly, Anya tightened her grip on the makeshift spear, pointing it toward the leading wolf.
“Just kidding,” she continued her imagined dialogue “my father killed the last wolf who tried to bite me!” In an uncertain move, the girl thrust the tip of the stick toward the large animal, making him step backward. Almost immediately, another one of them advanced closer to her by a little bit.
Damn it, she thought, feeling her mouth running dry, and what little she had of her lunch as it attempted to escape her stomach through her mouth. When I move toward one of them, the one closest to my back is free to attack me. It wasn’t running, but for a short moment it most certainly looked like it, and the beasts would always respond accordingly.
If I didn’t show any fear, they might have acted differently. But Anya positively stank of terror, and no one picked up on it better than the wolf that kept creeping behind her back. She had to calm herself, and she had to do it fast. But look at those jaws, she heard her own voice speak from within, still terrified of what happened so long ago.
But that girl is not you anymore, she told herself, having gripped the spear so tightly it made her hands hurt. You are no longer five. The animal behind her kept slowing its pace down more and more. You are a hunter and a survivor, and these are merely stupid animals! By now, the beast behind her was no longer moving.
Within a single breath, Anya leapt forward, all while unleashing the loudest scream she could possibly produce. With a horrible penetrating sound, the makeshift spear she wielded drove itself into the alpha’s right eye socket, slaying the animal instantly.
Numb from the adrenaline, the girl barely even noticed her surroundings anymore. All she could make out within the red haze that covered her sight were the vague shapes of four whining wolves, retreating back from the monster that defeated their leader.
I have done well, she noted, feeling no fear any more, only the sweet sensation of victory one can only savor after a successful hunt. Lowering her gaze onto the dead beast, Anya pulled the spear out of its head before grabbing it with both her hands and dragging it toward the fire.
Eagerly, the girl pulled out a large knife from her bag, glad that hands weren’t shaking anymore. Looks like I’m in for a feast today.Maybe, she allowed herself to presume, I might even survive this ordeal.
Almost three full hours later, the animal was skinned and cleared out, and the first batch of its meat was cooked and ready for consumption. Greedily, the girl ate it all up within minutes, without savoring any bit of it. Only a few days ago, she condemned such behavior when she saw it in her father. By now, though, she understood it fully. Food is a source of energy, of heat. Everything else was merely a bonus.
Initially, the ease at which her mindset changed disturbed her quite a bit, but Anya quickly managed to abandon that train of thought. She was trained in everything that mattered, prepared fully for what lied outside the confines of the village. All she needed was one little push, and the instincts of a hunter were now awakened within her, never to leave.
Still hungry, the girl was just about to reach for another piece of wolf meat, when another, very different kind of snarling disturbed her in that intent. Oh, no. As quickly as she could, she leapt to her side, grasping the bloodied wooden spear in her right hand, all while knowing how useless it would be if the invader was what she expected it to be.
For the love of God,why now? Carefully, the girl crept to her right, knowing full well that the incoming mountain of fur and claws that approached her position could not be evaded by hiding. Why did it have to be a damn bear?
Relentlessly, but without a hint of a hurry, the beast practically paced toward Anya, standing straight, eyes affixed to her location. It was larger than any bear anyone ever described, and the hunters of Medvedevo were not known for their modesty. It was white too, which was a rare trait this far from the northern reaches.
Slowly now, the told herself, all while crawling to her right as silently as her shaking limbs were capable of. If I set up something between us before I start running, I might get a head start.
The animal still walked upright. Carefully, Anya tried checking whether or not it held a rock in one of its paws. It did not. Besides, Anya analyzed, if it wanted to throw something at me, it would have done so by now. Could it be...?
Suddenly, a possibility came into her mind, so insane it almost forced her to laugh out loud, despite the imminent threat. Could this be the Great Bear Spirit? Almost immediately, the girl’s instincts helped her silence her faithful side. It was never that strong to begin with.
Now positioned so that the highest possible amount of obstacles stood between her and the bear, Anya immediately turned around and started running. A couple of seconds later, the sound of her tent being ripped to pieces reached her ears, and she knew that the beast would be slowed at least somewhat.
Then, something else followed, this time much less pleasant to her: the blizzard, peaceful for so many hours, resumed its rage almost immediately.
To hell with the bear and this awful place! It was as if the land itself didn’t want her to survive. While she was fighting to maintain vision despite the onslaught of white against her eyes, another thought had occurred to her: whether she escaped the animal or not, the chances of her surviving have just dropped significantly. She had no tools, no food and no shelter.
At least there’s plenty of semi-solid water around, the girl tried to lighten the mood as she struggled to maintain her pace. It didn’t work.
All in all, whether she could survive or not was comp
letely irrelevant unless she lost the bear. Muscles and sinew strained to the max, lungs fighting to inhale mostly air, Anya raced forward, refusing to even turn around. Seeing how fast it gives chase might cause me to freeze in fear, not worth it!
Her sight overwhelmed by the brightness of her environment, everything faded to white. She could still feel her muscles straining, her body following the commands she had given it, but her mind was somewhere else.
“The Siberian bear,” Anya could hear her father say, as clearly as she did anytime he chose to teach her in the past, “is the most vicious animal in existence. They say you can fool the bears from other places by feigning death, by hiding or scaring them with fire. Not so with our great beasts. You see, they need you. Not you in particular, but they need your meat. It provides the heat they need to stay warm, to keep moving around, and they can feel it regardless of whether you’re moving or not.
“Fire, on the other hand will only draw them to you. That just won’t work, girl. What you need to take one of those bastards down is something grand. An impressive beast demands an equally impressive approach to hunting it down.”
“Wouldn’t you agree, my dear little Anya?” He would always say, right before he finished his lectures.
Smart man, that dad of mine, the girl concluded, right as she felt the last bit of power leave her dragging body. With no difference whether she was capable of running anymore, she turned around, right on time to notice the beast some twenty feet behind, following every last bit of her steps.
Then, all of a sudden, something happened. A sharp, metallic sound of one firm material clashing against another practically cut the air to get to her ears, followed by an even more unpleasant noise of bone crunching.
Its left leg caught in a bear trap, the animal roared and whimpered, flailing around like it refused to believe what just happened. Funny, Anya noted, glad that her plan had played out so well.
Hiding that trap outside the village the night before she was sent on her way, just to dig it out again, dragging all that metal through the storm… it wasn’t easy. Neither was setting it up as she scouted the surroundings of her new encampment. But in the end, it was all more than worth it.
“In the end,” Anya gloated after barely managing to get back on her feet “the Great Bear Spirit is nothing but another dumb animal, right?” As if in response, the beast roared, displaying clear murderous intent in its surprisingly bright-looking pair of eyes. On and on it shrieked, and the storm seemed to get worse in response
Would my father be proud, the girl found herself wondering, or would he consider what I did a blasphemy? In Anya’s reasoning, if this truly was the Protector, and she was successful at hunting it down, then this is the way it should be. The predator hunts the prey. Those were father’s own teachings, as a matter of fact.
Carefully, as the blizzard raged, the girl approached the ensnared monstrosity. She had one chance to bring it down, and failure meant either the loss of either her weapon or life. If I manage to bring it down soon, she knew, I’ll be able to stay warm in its innards while this chilling hell subsides.
That, however, would not come easy. As if it followed the animal’s screaming, the snow storm got worse and worse at an insane pace. By the time the girl was close enough to land the killing blow, the beast could barely even be seen, given how white it was.
No other way, Anya knew. It was now or never. With determination, she raised her weapon, now shaking from the winds rather than fear. Then, just as she was about to bring it down, a sudden wave of cold hit her in the face, blowing her away from the bear.
“I won’t let you get away, you stinking piece of -“ Anya barely managed to scream out, right before the entire area was engulfed by a thick layer of snow.
***
Expecting to wake up in something more akin to heaven, a nude Anya found herself lying on some sort of a carpet within a small room carved out of solid rock. Thick and soft to the touch, there was no denying that the makeshift bed was comfortable. No small part of her wanted to just stay there like that for a while. There was no harm in resting for a bit more, was there?
Wrong. More than a little experienced at managing her lazy side, the girl forced herself to open her eyes and rise almost immediately. Surprisingly, despite several waves of pain that resonated all over her body, everything seemed to work. Somehow, nothing’s broken, she concluded, visibly relieved, all while slowly, and with great effort, moving through the only exit: a dark, narrow passage.
It is warm in here, the girl realized, her nostrils having caught the scent of something burning. It was a controlled immolation, she realized, as the air was as fresh as it could be. Whatever this place was, it was constructed to be as convenient as possible.
Her whole body aching, she barely traversed the hallway, even though it wasn’t particularly long. By the time she got to the end, Anya was rewarded by a sight she never thought she’d see: a large, circular room, opened on one side, treating her to a rather high-up view of what was presumably the region she spent her life in. Around the room, a large number of bonfires burned intensely, making what was in the center of the room stick out even more than it otherwise would have.
“You are strong,” the man spoke, his legs crossed as he sat on another furry rug, the perfectly arrayed flames around him making his already striking looks even more memorable. Perfectly formed muscles covered nearly every part of the man’s nude body, while his unusually smooth features were further accentuated by a head full of long, white hair. “It has been a long while since they’ve sent anyone strong.”
For a short moment, Anya wondered if she actually had died, and if the man before her was God himself, or at least one of his angels. Then, her gaze fell down to his feet, and a large scar over his calf immediately shocked her into a state of awareness.
“You… you’re the Bear Spirit, are you not?” The girl asked slowly, not unlike a prowling cat feeling over what might be unsafe ground.
“Great Bear Spirit, please,” the silver-haired man responded, barely able to prevent himself from laughing outright. “If you insist on maintaining the formalities of Medvedevo, you might as well do it properly, right?”
“What… what is this place?” Anya queried, her eyes flying over every feature of the room. “What exactly are you?” Then, having remembered what had brought her there, the girl felt her determination return. Taking a deep breath and allowing her eyes to meet with his, she finally said “What is the meaning of all of this?”
“This place,” the so-called Great Bear Spirit said, “is my not so humble sanctum. Please, don’t be ashamed to sit down. You’ve been through a lot. I’ve been there, I know.” He smiled, but not in an insulting manner, as one might expect from the situation. Feeling her knees barely hold her up, Anya obliged his request, letting her tender buttocks kiss the cold stone floor. With a gesture, her host invited her to come and sit on the rug, but she refused the offer with a gesture.
“Suit yourself,” the man said, “I might just have to help you get warmed up later, huh?”
Teeth clenched, Anya said nothing, merely staring into the man’s icy blue eyes, so similar to her own. If I don’t show fear, she reasoned, maybe he won’t see just how defenseless I am. However, even she knew how much of a lie her display was. The girl was completely at her host’s mercy, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“As for me… you could call me by the name your people have given me, and you would not have been too wrong. Most of it is true, aside from the spirit part, as you can clearly see. I am unmistakably great,” he smiled as he said that “and I do turn into a bear when I so desire.”
“Or by night,” the man continued, the smile wiped from his face almost immediately. “I almost always turn by night, practically every time.”
“Alright,” Anya interrupted, just barely grasping what it was that he was saying. “What you do, the turning thing, is it some sort of magic?”
“I don’t know what it
is, girl,” the man responded, still deathly serious. “What I do know is that it’s hereditary. My father had it, as did his father before him. Which brings us,” the Bear Spirit’s disposition seemed to improve drastically, “to the matter at hand”
“You see, girl, the Gift, as we call it, it feeds on strength. Having a Gifted parent is mandatory, but even with the best breeding in the world, nothing can guarantee that a shifter’s offspring will grow up to become a shifter. Unless the child is brought up to be strong in the wild, the wild will not be strong in the child. Do you understand?”
Slowly, Anya nodded. What he said did make a weird kind of sense, but it wasn’t exactly clear what he was getting at. What she did get, however, was the magnetic allure of the man who sat before her. There was no rational reason for it, she knew, but his unusual appearance, coupled with something she could not put her finger on, a kind of primal attraction, made her feel drawn to her host.
“For that reason alone, my ancestors have decided to move back here, to the land that birthed us so long ago. Exhausted from our journey, we discovered this place, the mountain palace that supposedly housed the noblest of our people in the past, and it was completely empty. Stuck here as they were, without any food or real source of heat, they begged the land for help – and it listened!”
“Within an incredibly short period of time, the winds died down, and a flock of birds, too willing to be slaughtered for it to have been a coincidence, flew in through this opening behind me, saving the lives of my family and changing their lives forever. In the following decades, life was good. Our people married your people, and everything appeared to be developing just the way it should have.”
After a surprisingly long period of silence, the Great Bear Spirit continued his story “the next generation showed promise, but soon completely failed our expectations. Out of hundreds of potential shifters, none grew into the Gift. It was a disaster. The survival of the species was in question, and the solution seemed beyond our grasp.”