Frostbitten (22 page)

“You could never be
useless,” Anastasia whispered, while placing her hand against his cheek.

“You’re the only one
who seems to believe that,” Frost whispered back.

Lightly kissing his
lips so she wouldn’t turn him into a werewolf, Anastasia guided Frost to lie
down on the bed with her. He seemed to relax as they held each other tightly,
with Anastasia resting her head upon his chest to hear his heartbeat. Despite
everything that had happened today – including almost dying – it now felt like
she was in paradise. From the crackling fire which produced a romantic glow to
merely lying in bed with Frost, Anastasia knew that she could easily spend
forever in this little cabin.

Sitting up, Frost began
to wrap the old quilt around them, but then he stopped to look at her closely.
“Is this alright?” he asked seriously.

“Yes,” Anastasia
answered, a little uncertain about what he meant.

“Good,” Frost said,
before settling in for the night. “There’s only one bed, but I don’t want you
to think I’d ever take advantage of you – at any point during the day.”

Anastasia instantly
understood that he wasn’t just talking about sharing a bed but also the fact
that he’d undressed her to prevent hypothermia. He was such a gentleman, even
when she kind of wished he wouldn’t be. Werewolf or not, Anastasia could now
say with the utmost certainty that she’d never met a guy like Frost before.

“I know,” Anastasia
replied, before wriggling in bed until she found the perfect spot in his arms.
“Hey, Frost,” she began to ask a few moments later, “have you ever met another
werewolf? I mean, you must’ve traveled these woods hundreds of times since your
thirteenth birthday. Maybe there are others out there, if not in Cedar Falls
Woods, then somewhere.”

“If there is, I haven’t
found them. I’ve spent countless hours researching werewolves, but all I’ve
uncovered are fairy tales and reports supported by intangible evidence.
Werewolves aren’t supposed to exist, so I don’t know what I expected to find.
However, my efforts did lead me to a German newspaper archive from the late
eighteen hundreds. I’ve never read about that many werewolf sightings coming
from one area – it really struck me as weird.”

“Maybe you’re on to
something,” Anastasia pointed out.

“Probably not,” Frost
replied with a sigh. “The articles sounded sensationalized, and we know how
people see what they want to, especially when the idea has already been put
into their heads.” He paused to smile at Anastasia and smooth her hair
lovingly. “You really should get more sleep.”

“Yes, doctor,” Anastasia
teased, before kissing him goodnight and then closing her eyes.

It was impossible for
Anastasia to know how long she’d been asleep when she awoke to the sound of a
howling wolf. For a fleeting moment, she thought that Frost had left the cabin
to run in the woods. However, as Anastasia turned to her right, she realized
that he was still sleeping beside her. She sat up, listening as the howling
continued. It was quieter than before, and soon it disappeared completely.

“Did you hear that?”
Anastasia whispered to Frost. When she didn’t receive a reply, she tugged on
his arm. “Frost, wake up,” she hissed in vain.

A chill swept through
Anastasia’s body, likely from a combination of her cold and fear. Even the fire
was starting to die, creating a very creepy atmosphere. Shivering, Anastasia
lay back down in bed. Although the howling had ceased several minutes ago, the
wolf’s sad, desperate call kept replaying in her mind.

* * *

Part
Eight: Heart of the Beast

As Frost lay sound
asleep, Anastasia crept out of the warm, comfortable bed, careful not to make
any noise. She’d been awake for over an hour, and although she should’ve been
relishing in the fact that she was lying next to Frost, she was too preoccupied
with thoughts of the wolf howls which had haunted her dreams. This time,
however, Anastasia knew that those howls weren’t just a figment of her
imagination; they’d been real and not too far away. All she needed now was to
follow the wolf’s tracks because there was a good chance that it would lead to
Frost’s biological parents.

After putting on her
winter clothing and then walking toward the door, Anastasia stopped to cast
Frost a quick glance. She wanted him to come with her, but he obviously needed
more rest. Besides, her plan required immediate action; she’d have to find the
tracks before any snow could conceal them. Once she had found the prints, she’d
go back to the cabin and awaken Frost. From there, they’d continue on together.
It seemed like a foolproof plan, and Anastasia couldn’t be happier about
actually being an asset to their mission.

Everything was eerily
silent and still as Anastasia exited the cabin and made her way throughout the
woods. Dawn must have broken some time ago, even though the dark, bleak
atmosphere of this tree-laden place made that hard to believe. The only sounds
came from Anastasia’s nasally breathing and heavy footsteps, but to her, the
thudding inside her head was the noisiest of them all. Not surprisingly, she
was getting sicker, and the day’s bitterly cold temperature definitely wouldn’t
be helping her to feel better anytime soon. Nevertheless, Anastasia trudged
onwards, constantly keeping her eyes on the snow.

An hour passed, or
maybe it was two; either way, the only thing Anastasia could be certain of was
that she hadn’t come across any tracks. Finally looking up to stretch her very
stiff neck, she gulped as she studied her surroundings. She’d entered a
clearing, and as a large cloud moved slowly past the sun, the brightness caused
her to squint in response. Anastasia hadn’t meant to search this far afield,
and she silently cursed herself for being so foolish.

Immediately rectifying
her mistake, Anastasia turned around and began to follow her own footprints.
She tried to hurry, but exhaustion and an ache that penetrated her very bones
kept her at a walking pace. Anastasia was weak, and even though she should’ve
been freezing by now, she actually felt hot; so hot, in fact, that she
contemplated removing her scarf and gloves.

It’s like an inferno,
Anastasia thought in a disoriented manner as she started to break out in a
feverish sweat. Suddenly, a strong dizzy spell swept over her, causing the
woods to spin wildly with seemingly no stop in sight. Anastasia stumbled to the
ground, where she closed her eyes and waited for the dizziness to end. It did
cease, but she was left feeling weaker and sweatier than before.

“Damn,” Anastasia
muttered aloud, before slowly standing up to discover that she’d regained her
balance. “I guess I should’ve eaten breakfast this morning.” She let out a
forced laugh, despite not finding any of this funny. Anastasia knew that she
was sick, but she’d been reluctant to admit it because that meant delaying
their search for Frost’s parents. Unfortunately, her worsening condition could
no longer be ignored.

“Frost!” Anastasia
called as loudly as her sore throat would allow. “Frost, I need you!” She’d
begun walking again, but her steps were that much smaller and slower, causing
her to doubt that she’d make it back to the cabin by herself. Anastasia just
hoped that Frost could somehow hear her distressed calls.

The sound of paws
thudding heavily upon the frozen ground, in an attempt to reach Anastasia as
quickly as possible, filled her with relief and even joy. Frost had heard her
cries and was coming to save her. She imagined being at the cabin in no time,
resting in the soft bed while he nursed her back to health.

“Frost!” Anastasia
shouted, wanting to urge him forward faster. “I’m here, Frost!”

Anastasia’s plea caused
the opposite of her desired effect as the thudding stopped abruptly. Confused
and upset, she stood still and listened, but she heard nothing other than her
rapid heartbeat. It felt as if everything else in the woods had died, leaving
Anastasia completely alone.

Growl...

Or maybe Anastasia wasn’t
as alone as she’d thought. That growl had come from somewhere in the vicinity,
yet as she turned around to carefully scan the area, she saw nothing and no
one. Shakily, Anastasia waited for something to happen, but the woods remained
deathly quiet and seemingly devoid of any life.

“Frost?” Anastasia
called out weakly, even though she knew that he’d never growl at her,
especially in such a menacing tone.

Suddenly, in the
distance appeared a figure so white that it was impossible to identify who – or
what – it was. As if emerging from the snowy ground, it proceeded forward at a
steady pace, creating a loud, scary thump with each and every step. Although
Anastasia still couldn’t tell what she was about to face, she knew with
complete certainty that the figure coming toward her was sinister. Its mere
presence seemed to cast a forbidding shadow over the clearing, and she’d never
experienced such a strong sense of impending doom.

Slowly, the figure
started to come into view, and as it drew closer, terrifying features were
revealed. It was a wolf who looked very similar to Frost when he was in his
shape-shifted form. He had a large, imposing stature and was covered in white
fur which appeared matted and somewhat dirty. Hunched, the wolf moved
stealthily, as if constantly on edge and ready to fight at any given moment. In
an instant, Anastasia knew that he was a werewolf.

“What the hell?”
Anastasia whispered in a stone-cold tone. This wasn’t at all what she’d
expected to find, and now she wished that she’d never looked in the first
place. If this was indeed a relative of Frost’s, she didn’t want to meet the
rest of his family.

Turning around,
Anastasia ran as fast as she could; unfortunately, that wasn’t very quick.
Still weak, exhausted and slightly dizzy, she knew that successfully fleeing
from the werewolf was highly unlikely, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.
As he began to chase her, the familiar sound of his paws thumping upon the
ground became louder, causing an almost earthquake-like effect. The werewolf
was close – too close.

Seconds later, a sharp
pain shot throughout Anastasia’s body. The werewolf had pounced on her from
behind, bringing them both hurtling toward the ground. As if by mere luck,
Anastasia avoided being crushed by him, but she knew that she was still in
great danger. Fueled by the intense rush of adrenaline that was coursing
through her veins, she tried to get up and run. However, the werewolf obviously
had other ideas as he leapt on top of Anastasia and pinned her shoulders down.
Under the strength of the beast, she screamed in agony and fear.

Anastasia’s cries were
soon overpowered as a ferocious growl sounded nearby. Then the next thing she
knew, someone tackled the werewolf hard and fast, releasing her from under his
paws in the process. Gasping, Anastasia tried to get out of the way, but the
best she could do was shuffle backwards by a few feet. With a combination of
terror and astonishment, she watched as Frost, in his shape-shifted form,
fought the rogue werewolf. He must have heard her plea for help after all.

From the way the two
werewolves were rolling on the ground, in an attempt to force the other into
submission, it was impossible to tell who was the strongest. Simultaneously,
they snapped and snarled, while swiping their massive paws at each other’s
faces. As the rogue werewolf bit Frost’s shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain,
Anastasia winced and looked away. Once again, she felt the emotional pang of
being useless to help Frost.

“Please stop!”
Anastasia begged in desperation.

The werewolves paid no
attention to her and instead began to fight more vigorously. Even their growls
were deeper and filled with urgency, as if each werewolf was saying that he’d
be the last one standing. From multiple bite wounds and scratches, blood flowed
quickly, staining their fur horrific shades of red. It was clear that this was
a battle to the death, and if the rogue werewolf won, Anastasia would be his
next conquest – and meal.

Like watching a
nightmare unfold right in front of her eyes, the werewolves rose on their hind
legs and bit one another viciously. As the fighting intensified, the rogue
werewolf struck Frost, causing him to be tossed like an overstuffed plush
animal before landing on his back with a sickening thud. Wasting no time, he pounced
on Frost, as if ready to deliver one final, fatal blow.

That’s when the oddest
thing happened. Seemingly losing all interest in fighting, the rogue werewolf
brought his face close to Frost’s and studied him carefully. Obviously taken
aback, Frost made no attempt to attack. They stayed that way for several
moments until the rogue werewolf let out a low, sorrowful moan and then hurried
away.

Quickly, Frost leapt up
from the ground. He appeared steady and alert, as if he’d already recovered
from last night’s illness – possibly due to a resilient werewolf gene or
something of that nature, Anastasia could only guess. However, as strong and
determined as he looked, it was clear from the heavy blood flow that he was
badly hurt.

Frost motioned for
Anastasia to climb upon him. Weak, and also concerned that she’d
unintentionally increase his pain, she slowly lifted herself up. Then he took
off, running so fast that Anastasia barely had time to wrap her arms around his
body. While struggling to stay on top of him, she realized that she had another
thing to worry about; Frost was following the rogue werewolf’s tracks.

“What are you doing?”
Anastasia yelled, afraid that Frost had gone insane. “He wants to kill us! Turn
around
now
!”

Apparently unwilling to
acknowledge Anastasia’s request to get the hell out of there, Frost continued
to race forward. She was infuriated by how easy it was for him to put them both
in danger just to win a fight. It was so selfish, not to mention foolish. It
was also a part of Frost that she’d never seen before. The memory of him vowing
to always protect her filled her mind. Had that only been a lie?

All too soon, Frost and
Anastasia left the clearing and entered an area of the woods which kept getting
darker because of the numerous trees. It felt like night had fallen early, and
the haunting caw of an unseen raven made the atmosphere that much more sinister
and unnerving. This was by far the creepiest part of Cedar Falls Woods that
Anastasia had ever seen.

“I want to leave,”
Anastasia said angrily as Frost moved skillfully in between the trees. “I mean
it, Frost. You’re acting like a complete ass.” Her rant was nowhere near
finished, yet she found herself at a loss for words as her eyes settled upon
something very unusual.

There, less than fifty
feet away, was a tiny log cabin made for one. Located after several bends in
the woods and well-concealed with no visible windows, it was evident that the
person who had built it wanted to be left alone. However, Frost was obviously
not going to steer clear as he swiftly approached the moss-covered cabin.

Coming to an abrupt
halt, Frost motioned for Anastasia to climb down from his back. After
reluctantly doing so, the first thing she noticed was a thick, heavy-looking
door which had three rusty locks. These locks were pointless, though, as the
door was already slightly ajar and creaking gently despite the lack of wind.
Even more disturbing than this cabin – which definitely looked like it was
haunted – was the large werewolf prints that led inside.

As Frost cast Anastasia
a serious glance, she understood that he wanted her to stay there. Well, that
was one instruction that she wouldn’t be following. Against her wishes, he’d
dragged them both into this second encounter with the rogue werewolf, and now he
was telling her to wait outside? Frost needed to learn the hard way that they
were in this together, and Anastasia wasn’t afraid to show him what she was
made of.

With a powerful lunge,
Frost burst into the cabin. Anastasia was right behind him, and as her eyes
slowly adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the interior of the cabin
was creepier than the exterior. It was so dreary and musty-smelling that it
felt inhospitable at best. As Anastasia stepped beside Frost to get a better
look, a startling vision was revealed. In the middle of the cabin, sitting
deathly still in an old rocking chair, was a man. His back was to Anastasia and
Frost as he stared at an unlit fireplace.

“You shouldn’t have
followed me, Russell,” the man spoke in a deep, harsh voice.

The man’s words were
few and simple, yet even Anastasia felt the significance of what he’d said. Who
was he, and more importantly, why was he calling Frost by that name? As she
glanced at a serious-looking Frost, who had returned to his human self, she realized
that he knew more about this man than she did.

Standing up, the man
revealed himself to be tall and evidently very thin due to the way his red and
black plaid jacket and old jeans clung to his body. Like Frost, the darkness
enhanced the hue and brightness of his eyes, but that’s where the similarities
ended. His hair was as white as snow, and he had a long, deep scar running
across his left cheek. Likely in his mid-fifties, the man had a sour expression
upon his face and a tense, defensive body language. A mere glimpse in his
direction made it clear that he’d suffered a very hard life.