Page 7 of The Shadow of Polaris

She tilted her snout, sniffing the scent of blood stained on my hands.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise. It’s okay.”

I stroked down her fragile spine as she wriggled toward me, the yellow of her eyes bouncing moonlight across the frozen land. Craving my warmth, she crawled into my outstretched arms. Slowly, I wrapped my hands around her belly and lifted her to my chest. Her delicate bones protruded from beneath a pelt of silky, thick fur.

As I nestled the little creature into my cloak, a jolt of electricity channeled through me, emulating from my feet to the crown of my head. The current sparked through my chest and I nearly dropped her from the shock. She poked her head out from beneath the thick woolen fabric and gazed up at me, her eyes gleaming in wonder.

“You felt that too, didn’t you, little one?” She huffed in response and buried herself beneath my cloak again, curling into the warmth radiating from my chest. I chuckled and stroked her soft, juvenile fur until her breathing evened into a uniform rise and fall. Clasping my cloak further up my neck, I continued forward, keeping a watchful eye on my surroundings, hoping to catch sight of the pup’s littermates. There was nothing but silence and snow.

By the time the tree line of Ursae came into view, a flame of crimson licked across the horizon and the indigo winter night had turned a shade of burnt sienna. I sped for the trees, heart pounding as the golden sun of dawn crept closer to the horizon. As the last shadow of night faded away, I dove for cover under a row of tall balsam firs. Panting, I curled up in a bed of dead, snowy pines and stroked the wolf pup who had stirred.

“We’re safe, little one.” She peeped from her wool cocoon and yawned widely. “For now.” I chuckled and scratched behind her ear, my pulse normalizing. As we watched the sunrise together, it hit me suddenly that this was real. I wouldn’t wake up in my tower bedchambers. Freedom tasted warm, like a sun ray across my cheeks.

The pup nestled into the crook of my neck, huffing deeply as she closed her eyes. I stroked her fur, welcoming the comfort of my new companion.

“I wonder if you have a name.”

She leaned into my touch. Opening her eyes, the yellow amber glinted in the new dawn light. She had powerful eyes. Blazing eyes. Eyes that felt as old as time. They reminded me of a glimmering, golden star, orbiting across the northern sky.

“Arcturas. That’s what I’ll call you.” I poked the tip of her wet, spongy nose.

Huffing lazily, she tucked her ears back and fit her head against mine. We stayed there for a little while, curled together beneath the shelter of thick firs. The branches were deep enough to block the snowfall and harsh whistling wind. Eventually I dozed into a shallow sleep, the image of those horrendous red eyes chased away by the warmth of the tiny creature nestled against my body.

Chapter 6

When I awoke, the sun breached high in the sky and the nighttime frost had melted in droplets from the branches above. Crawling out from our makeshift den, Arcturas and I stretched the sleep from our limbs and continued on our journey. A mourning dove cried in the distance as we trudged through the damp forest. The ache of my empty stomach and burn of my throat was a reminder that I hadn’t had a meal since the morning before last.

Arcturas sniffed at my boot, urging me to follow, and trailed through the thick, misty morning. The wolf pup led me to a clearing full of deep brown undergrowth. She curled around trees and tucked under branches with heavy, fresh snowfall. A small stream meandered through a bramble covered embankment and fluorescent fish bubbled against its gentle current. Winter birds cooed and squawked from the bare, slender branches of colossal pines that lined the glade. Sunlight from the late morning sky beamed through the tree canopy in spurts of crisp, cool light.

I scrambled to the stream and dropped to my knees, frantically gulping down palmfuls. Desperation overpowered the frigid burn of the icy water sliding down my throat. Gasping for air and finally quenched of my thirst, I sat back on my heels and let the wintry sun radiate across my cheeks. I hadn’t experienced the world like this in so long I’d nearly forgotten it. She was an old friend that’d lost touch. A chorus of winter finches sang a peaceful melody that ebbed and flowed around me, raising the hairs across my forearms.

I couldn’t suppress the visions of my father on our frosty morning hunts. How he’d guide my bow to our prey with steady hands. Hands that swallowed up my little mittened fingers around the bowstring.

“Take a deep breath. Let the energy of the bow string connect through your fingertips. Feel it deep in your heart,” he whispered.

My boots melted into the snow, rooting into the frozen earth below. When I was ready to let my arrow fly, it hit the mark straight on.

Narrow beams of sunlight washed over me as I lost myself in time. I was finding a version of myself I used to know. A version of my father I loved the most, whose patience and gentle strength could fill even the deepest of voids within me. I wanted to stay there forever, just him and me, in that peaceful time when my mind was whole and my head was filled with hopes and dreams.

Arcturas moved to sit next to me and lapped at the stream. I’m not sure how long I sat letting the sunlight bask against my brow, but when I finally opened my eyes, warm tears streaked my cheeks and my lips had curled into a peaceful grin. The chill of the night melted with each beam of light, taking the image of those demonic eyes with it. The earthy, sweet taste of freedom splashed across my tongue as a small piece of my old self ignited beneath my surface.

A patch of chokeberries poked through the freshly powdered snow of last night’s storm. Wiping my knees, I plucked a handful of its black, beady berries and tossed them in my mouth. The tart plum-colored juice stained my fingers as I continued to feast until the entire bush was nearly bare. Berries alone wouldn’t sustain me forever, but the ache in my stomach had dulled enough for me to think more clearly. Arcturas nipped at my heel as if reminding me that wolves can’t live off of chokeberries either.

“You’re probably hungry too, little one. I’ll try to catch us some fish. Don’t wander off too far,” I said, bending over to unlace my boots. Sliding my feet out and pulling the hem of my shift above my knees, I waded into the glacial stream. My toes instantly numbed from the icy current whirling around my feet. I forced my shaking limbs still while I waited for the iridescent trout to slip between my ankles.

A lone fish paddled by my curled toes and I struck. Grasping for the fish with my outstretched hands, I snapped for its slithering body. The scaled creature slipped right through my fist. After three failed attempts and many loud curses, I finally caught one- only a few inches in length.

Tossing the fish to Arcturas, I began my hunt again while she tore into the scaly flesh. When I finally lost feeling below both of my knees, I had four small fish to roast. I cleaned and gutted them near the shore, then started off to find some kindling for a fire. Being in the wild like this felt natural. It brought ease to my broken mind. As a child, every once in a while my father and I would sneak through a hole in the city walls to spend the day together. He taught me everything I knew about survival.

When I was eight, he gave me my first dagger. When I was ten, he gave me a bow. I’d spend hours in the courtyard, practicing my aim at apples stolen from the castle stores. I was determined to be the best, hoping that he’d notice my skills. After months of practice, my arms exhausted and sore from long days of practice, I could hit every apple in the courtyard.

One day, my mother and sister were searching for winter mice when my aim struck true. Neither one cared to even glance my way, but my father clapped his hand on my shoulder with a big bushy grin as he applauded the hard work. His pride was all I ever needed. With him by my side, I couldn’t care less about my sister and the Queen.

As I began throwing twigs and sticks I’d scavenged into a pile, Arcturas sprinted to the heap and pulled one out to play with. She shook the twig about as if it were the scruff of her prey, until the wood snapped beneath the pressure of her fangs. When it became too small for her to pick up, she moved on to another, leaving only wooden shards.

Dusk appeared, and I hastily built my fire. The moon not only brought blinding darkness, but it also brought a deathly cold. Clumping the kindling beneath a stack of twigs, I flicked my dinner knife against the piece of flint I’d found beneath a patch of thick brambles. Embers shot at the kindling and fizzled on impact. It took a few tries before the grass lit, but when it finally did, I tossed the rock to the side and leaned in close to feed oxygen into the weak flame. Once the fire radiated enough heat and light, I skewered the fish filets with the remaining twigs and roasted them above the flames. Mouth watering, I rotated the meat for an even cook.

The aroma of cooked fish wafted around us as I tossed Arcturas two of the skewers. With sharp, predatory teeth, she devoured the meat in seconds. Ripping pieces off my own skewers, I savored each warm bite. In the tower they had served me tasteless sludge and stale bread. Not a single southern spiced chicken or ale stewed beef compared to the delicate flavor now swirling around my tastebuds. The flakes of fish, spiced with fresh night air and smoky pine, melted on my tongue.

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