At that point, a feeling of complete calm came over me. I wondered if hypothermia was setting in and if the next stage would be “paradoxical undressing” where I ripped all my clothes off as if too hot.
I definitely wasn’t thinking straight but the whole situation felt unreal, so I wasn’t sure if my mind was really retreating in a freezing fog or simply reacting to something that was really happening, no matter how unlikely it was.
I’m riding a magical animal into an enchanted forest, I thought, though where the “enchanted” part came from, I don’t know. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I was still back in my car and this was all some sort of dream.
But it felt real.
I let go of one of the antlers to pet the deer’s shoulders. His coat was coarser than I expected, but then, I’d never petted a deer before.
I could feel his body heat warming me as I clung to his back so I hugged him closer and just hung on. Hugh is going to be so jealous, I thought. Growing up we’d lived near an urban trail and often saw deer foraging for berries or vegetables in unfenced gardens. In the spring we’d see does with their spotted fawns drinking from the little creeks that wound their way around our neighborhood but we never got close enough to touch them, even though, despite our parents’ constant cautions not to approach the wild creatures, we tried.
My mind drifted. I realized it had stopped snowing and what looked like snowflakes in the air were actually flower petals being blown about.
Which made no sense at all.
I realized, too, that the sky was no longer midnight black but rather the purplish-blue of twilight and that the air was no longer frigid but warm as summer.
We were no longer moving through an evergreen forest of spruce and fir and pine but a fragrant woodland where the trees were simultaneously in flower, in fruit, and in full fall foliage.
Although not all was what it seemed. As we passed one gloriously orange tree, the leaves lifted off the branches and an entire swarm of butterflies flew away.
I followed their flight with my eyes and when I looked back at the ground I saw we were approaching a small cottage that looked as if it had come right out of the pages of a storybook.
The stag stopped in front of the cottage and lowered his head, making a noise between a snort and a wheeze.
As if in answer, the door to the cottage swung open.
CHAPTER THREE
A handsome man about my age filled the doorway. He did not seem to be surprised to see either the stag or me but simply smiled a welcome, then looked over his shoulder and said, “Mother, we have a visitor.”
Handsome? He was a total smokeshow and I found myself blushing as I slipped from the back of the deer, bracing myself against his bulk for balance.
The man looked concerned and took a step towards me.
“Are you hurt?” he said.
“I was in a car accident,” I said. “I really need to call Triple A.”
Why that was my first concern, I don’t know, but it seemed easier to focus on the aftermath of my accident than to try to make sense of how I’d ended up in the middle of a summer night when it was freaking December 21st in the Pacific Northwest.
The man looked past me to the stag and said, “Thank you, Geweih, she’s safe here.”
The deer made that strange snort/bleat sound and then trotted away.
The man turned his attention to me and gazed deeply into my eyes. It was an intense and intimate gaze and it unsettled me, though there was nothing but kindness in his amber eyes.
“Come in,” he said at last and stood aside to let me pass.
I stumbled a little crossing the threshold and he reached out to steady me, grabbing my elbow and holding onto it as we came into the small, well-kept house.
A very old woman turned from the stove when she heard our steps and she turned smiling to greet us.
But when she saw me, she dropped the plate she was holding and it shattered on the polished pine of the floor.
Do I look that bad? I wondered, much too aware of how bloody and bizarre I must look with my fancy dress now in tatters and mud and snow spattering my legs.
“Please don’t be afraid,” I said. “I know I look a fright.”
She snorted a laugh as if what I’d said amused her and replied, “No harm done, dear. I was merely startled.”
She looked at the man and added, “You look very like someone I used to know.”
“I am Marus,” the man said to me, “and this is my mother, Syla.”
His mother? The math didn’t add up. Marus looked like he was in his early twenties and Syla was ancient, with gray hair so thin her scalp showed through in patches and a face so wrinkled her eyes were almost lost in them. Maybe he was adopted, like I was.
“I’m Hildegard Thomas,” I said. “Hilde.”
“Hilde,” Syla replied, as if tasting the name on her tongue.
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” I said, feeling totally ridiculous, “but I had an accident and then I ran into your deer and he brought me here.”
“Yes,” she said. “He is trained to greet travelers.”
“Like a St. Bernard,” I said inanely and she and Marus both looked at me.
“Yes, just so,” she said. “Why don’t you clean yourself up and we’ll see what we can do about your situation.”
“Thank you,” I said. “If you’ll just point me to your bathroom.”
“Bathroom?” she asked, as if she’d never heard the word before, and then she started laughing hysterically. “Marus, show Hilde the…bathroom.” She nearly choked on the word.
WTF? I thought.
Marus smiled at me reassuringly. “It’s not as bad as all that,” he said and led me out the front door and around the back to where a natural hot spring bubbled up in a muddy clearing. There was a path of stones that led to the water’s edge. Grimy towels hung on a little hedge that partially screened the spring and there was a lump of something viscous balanced on the ground within easy reach of anyone who might be in the water.
And where’s the toilet? I wondered.
As if he’d heard the question, Marus said, “If you need to move your bowels, the privy is over there.” He pointed to a small shack almost hidden beneath a large tree.
I shuddered, imagining how many spiders might be inside it.
“Do you need anything else?” Marus asked politely, making no move to leave.
“No,” I said. “I’m good.” Which was not exactly true. I was very far from good. I was actually not good at all, but I was afraid if I said anything else, I might start screaming.
“Excellent, well,” he said. He gave me a little bow and then turned back toward the cottage.
I waited until he disappeared around the corner before I let out a deep breath. There wasn’t a window in the back of the cottage and as far as I could tell, we were out in the middle of nowhere, so I slowly began to unpeel my filthy, bloody clothes. I ached all over and the idea of getting into a hot spring was overpoweringly tempting.
Just taking off those torture devices strapped to my feet was bliss.
I lowered myself into the spring and nearly gasped at the heat of the water, but it was no hotter than the whirlpool at my gym.
The pool beneath the spring was about five feet deep, so I knotted my hair into a bun to keep it from getting wet as I allowed the water to engulf me.
The spring carried the dirt away from me and sucked it out of sight.
I touched the goo on the stone and brought it to my nose. It smelled pleasantly herbal, so I rubbed some of it on my skin to see what would happen.
It fizzed and lifted all the blood and grime away from my skin like the best K-Beauty mask ever.
When I finally felt clean, I heaved myself out of the spring using the paving stones for leverage. I was wrapping one of the towels around me when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.
I whipped around, holding the towel up, and saw a…
Monster!