Page 21 of A Bear Ski Instructor Christmas

Michael spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in the workshop, toiling even after Andrew had gone home. Between polishing new skis and fixing some furniture a few villagers had brought to him a couple of days earlier, the noise inside his head should have quieted down by now. Instead, the thoughts raged on, burdening him by the second.

He brought his hammer down, driving a crooked nail into the leg of a small chair. The chair was crudely designed. In fact, it was more of a stool. Frost Mountain didn’t have all the resources needed to craft a perfect chair, but Michael always did his best with whatever he could lay his hands on. Working with wood was one of the few things that kept him relatively balanced since he found himself on this harsh mountain. Another was skiing. But Michael didn’t feel like skiing tonight.

His thoughts continued to race, and he dropped the hammer with a sigh. Skiing or not, he could do with some movement. For a moment, Michael contemplated taking a stroll through the village, but then another idea surfaced in his mind.

Before he could stop himself, he marched out of the workshop, heading through the snow under the moonlit sky. The streets of Melinor were almost empty, although he bumped into a couple of villagers he recognized as he made his way toward the entrance.

The fence appeared in his line of sight before long. Michael had always been amazed at how low it was. On a mountain as dangerous as this, it seemed only sensible to erect a much higher, impenetrable fence around the village, but Reba had told him once that Melinor hadn’t witnessed any external dangers in so long that a higher fence was unnecessary.

At least he could slip out without drawing too much attention.

The wooden entrance gate was shut. Michael leaped over it, landing with a soft thud in the snow. The terrain before him was clear enough even at night—a large, white path heading straight downhill through the dense woods. Out here, he could barely hear a thing, not creatures lurking in the snow or tree leaves rustling in the wind. The night was dead silent and cold, perfect for what he had in mind.

Maybe heshouldhave brought his skis along.

He heard a faint crunch just then. Michael whirled about, eyes widening. Was someone following him? He squinted. There was no one in sight.

I must be hearing things.He shook his head.I reallydoneed to go back there.

The image from earlier flashed through his mind again, fading before he could grasp it. Michael shook his head. The only memories he had of Rachel were from her time on Frost Mountain. Nothing before. So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that the vision he’d seen earlier had something to do with her? A woman in a black sequined dress. He hadn’t seen a face, but that wasn’t enough to dismiss it, was it?

It was why he’d come out here. What better way to fix himself than to retrace his steps? He’d lost his memory when he’d knocked his head on that rock the day he arrived on Frost Mountain. It only made sense that he should return to that spot and try to remember whatever else he could. He hadn’t been back there since, but he was pretty sure he knew the spot.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Here goes.”

Without another moment’s hesitation, he made his way carefully down the hill. Within minutes, he’d veered off the path, trudging through the silent woods.

It wasn’t long before he decided he should probably try to blend in more with his environment. Michael came to a stop in the middle of the woods and quickly divested himself of his clothing, setting everything in the snow at the foot of a nearby tree. Unable to shake the feeling that icy fingers were creeping along his naked body, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath as he concentrated.

It had been a while since he’d last shifted, but the experience was as interesting as always. His bones grew longer and thicker, and black claws extended from his fingertips. He fell forward, landing on all fours in the snow as his spine stretched, bones crunching with every second. His face elongated into a snout, large teeth filling his mouth, and his ears slid up the sides of his head. Finally, fur sprouted from his skin, spreading all over his massive body.

His vision was much clearer now, his sense of smell keener. A grizzly bear didn’t exactly blend in with the snowy mountain as well as a polar bear might, but at least he wasn’t as cold anymore, not to mention it made traveling through the woods a lot easier.

Snatching up his clothes in his maw, Michael bounded through the woods, narrowly avoiding slamming into the trees as he headed further down the mountain.

He knew he’d arrived at his destination seconds before he saw it. The air was slightly warmer, not to mention he could hear the steady trickle of a nearby stream. The lake had to be nearby. He pushed forward, slowing as he reached the edge of the trees. Sure enough, just clear of the trees, its gleaming surface almost completely still, was a lake. Ten feet away from Michael sat a snow-covered boulder twice his size.

Michael dropped the clothes and shifted back to human form, tugging on his trousers, keeping his gaze on the rock. Ignoring his shirt and coat, he stepped toward it, fingers outstretched. The rock’s surface was cool to the touch, almost electrifying.

It took him a moment to realize he was holding his breath. He exhaled softly, feeling somewhat foolish. What was he expecting, exactly? That touching the rock would somehow cause his lost memories to come rushing back?

Was that so far-fetched? Michael didn’t have a degree in psychiatry, but wasn’t it true that objects and people could trigger memories?

But nothing came forth anyway.

His gaze dropped to the snow at his feet. He’d woken up right on this very spot three years ago to find Reba and Andrew standing over him. They’d been scouting the area, he learned later and had stumbled upon him, a strange man wearing skis and a Santa suit. They’d brought him into the village where Elena tended to him until he'd recovered his memory.

Well, most of it. If he’d recovered it all, he wouldn’t be standing out here so late at night, trying to piece together the fragments of his vision. He needed to remember but wasn’t sure why it meant so much to him. He’d been content with the memories he had before Rachel came along. Even now, as far as he was concerned, she was just some beautiful new woman who’d stumbled into his life. Was it because her presence and the things she knew about him made him suddenly aware of avoid in the corner of his mind that he was now determined to fill?

No, it was because Rachel was worth remembering, he decided. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want to remember someone as amazing as she was? The thought of those brilliant eyes and the sensuous curve of her lips were enough to make him wonder what experiences they’d shared. He had to remember her somehow because he didn’t just want to believe that they’d been together at some point; he wanted to know it without a doubt.

He returned his gaze to the rock, half-expecting something to happen.Anythingat all.

But nothing did.

With a sigh, he took a step back. Coming out here had been a waste of time. No matter how hard he tried, getting those memories back seemed impossible. They’d been gone for three years. What were the odds that they’d suddenly return now?

“Face it, Michael,” he told himself. “You’re as likely to get those memories back as you are to leave Frost Mountain.”

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