Page 11 of Valkyrie Restored

Arran led me through their house to the front door with Hurrit trailing behind. “Don’t stress too hard about what I said. There’s no pressure. I just wanted to reassure you that you weren’t causing any issues and that we’d like something more.” He placed two fingers under my chin, lifting it until I looked him in the eye. “Just keep getting to know us like you are now and let things happen naturally. Can you do that?”

I found myself drowning in his gaze. Heat pooled within me, melting my will power. “I-I can.” Really I had no other answer yet it was still a surprise when the words fell from my lips.

“Good.”

And then he kissed me. His warm full lips pressed against mine. A chaste kiss… and yet it wasn’t. The bolt of lust and desire that travelled through me at the feel of him nearly sent me to my knees. My lungs stopped working until my vision blurred from lack of oxygen. And when he pulled back, having never even parted my lips, I drew in a ragged breath, panting as if we’d been making out for hours instead of a few seconds.

“Good night, Elin.” Hurrit cradled the back of my head in his hand as he opened the door.

Unable to speak, I nodded to them as I started the short walk back to my house. I didn’t know which affected me, the chaste kiss, or the feel of Hurrit’s large hand on my head. Either way, there was only one thing I could say when I finally got my brain, lungs, and mouth to work properly…

“Wow!”

8

Elin

I droppedonto my couch with a giant sigh. Every muscle hurt, but there was an immense feeling of satisfaction from it.

For the past two months, I’d been working from sunup to sundown, roaming the woods, the shore, and even travelling to various farmers’ markets to source out different ingredients to expand my products. It also gave me time to talk to other small shop keepers to see if they would be interested in trying my products. While homemade cosmetics, skin care, and cleaning products were being done by lots of people, there was still room in the market for me. At least that is what my bank balance told me along with the increasing number of orders.

But it wasn’t just me who’d been busy. Hurrit and Arran spent so much time with clients, either out on the lake in their fishing boat or up at their wilderness lodge, that we barely spent any time together. Our interactions tended to be limited to a brief drink while I worked in my workshop or in passing if I was down in the marina. I think twice we even ran into each other while grocery shopping. But none of the times were conducive to having a deep, intimate discussion about a possible three-way relationship.

One good thing did come from the limited interaction though. Hurrit became a little less broody with me. He stopped by my workshop about once every week, bringing me a plate of food—usually some grilled fish and fresh vegetables. He didn’t say much, usually more grunts than words after his initial questions about my well-being and if I’d had anymore strange encounters with wildlife like that first one. To which I always denied.

My eyes drifted shut as I remembered the day nearly a month ago when Hurrit walked into my workshop, holding a bulging burlap bag in one hand. After his initial, perfunctorily questions, he held out the bag and, in a halting, gentle voice he said, “I found these plants earlier today. They’re ones my grandmother used to pick to make into medicines and creams. She was a healer.”

I reached into the bag and pulled out a plant I’d never seen before. I didn’t even know where it could be found although it did remind me of a couple of the plants I picked from the bottom of the lake near the shore.

Before I could even ask about them, he helped me to empty the bag. “I used to help my grandmother when I was young, so if you want, I can show you what she used them for and how to prepare them?”

At the sound of the softness of his voice, I raised my gaze to look into his eyes. He’d bitten his lower lip and if I wasn’t mistaken, I could have sworn the skin on his cheeks held the slightest of a red hue. I placed my hand on his, pulling his attention to me. “I’d like that.”

He flipped his hand over, giving mine a gentle squeeze before he withdrew. The rest of the visit wasn’t as soft and sweet since he reverted a little to his broody self while relaying all the information he knew about the plant, but something had shifted between us. There was a little less tension in the air. And for the first time since that fateful supper, I saw what Arran said was true. Hurrit didn’t hate me. He cared. He just didn’t know how to express it.

I pried my eyes open and pushed myself upright before dragging myself to the bathroom. Despite how tired I was, a relaxing bath to soothe my aching muscles called my name. For as much as I enjoyed my encounters with Arran and Hurrit, getting to know them more and learning about other sides of their personalities, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Guilt ate at my conscience, souring the whole experience through the lies I told them. The bear hadn’t been my only strange encounter with animals. Although the others, excluding the ones in the lake, appeared to just be bad luck. Having moose, elk, and deer on the highway were a natural occurrence in this area even if most people never experienced it. So the fact that I’d come across all three—twice—during my drives was a little strange. That and the fact that they happened during the day instead of at night when most of them tended to occur increased the weirdness factor. Not that I was about to tell him that.

And the lakes issues… those ones I’d never breathe a sigh about them. No one needed to know how my brain was hallucinating other than my doctors. Because it had to be hallucinations. There was no other rational explanation for how I saw what looked like a horse inside the lake, under the water, twice when I came close to drowning. Both times, in different beaches, I’d gone into the lake to cool down and to harvest some of the plants that grew at the bottom. Both times I wasn’t in water too deep, but it had been well over my head. When I went to surface after a couple of dives, somehow the weeds wrapped around my foot and leg. As much as I tried to loosen it with my hands and my kicking, the weeds which had broken under the strength of my hands earlier became stronger than steel. Nothing shook them loose or broke them. In fact, I almost swore they grew tighter the more I struggled.

Both times, just as my vision began to fade from the lack of oxygen and I stopped struggling, I could have sworn I saw a horse. A water horse that helped me.

But there was no way that could have been true. Water horses didn’t exist. They were mythological creatures and the ones I’d discovered when I researched them were mainly found in Scotland. Kelpies they were called. Although there was an Indigenous myth about how horses—also known as Elk dogs—were gifted to the Indigenous people that also contained a spirit who was part horse part man.

After my brain conjured up the image, the plant loosened its hold from leg, allowing me to swim to the surface where I gasped for air. Within minutes, my breathing grew easier, and the brain fuzziness disappeared. By the time I swam to shore, other than feeling extremely tired, I felt perfectly fine.

It had to have been all in my head. There was no other reason to be seeing water horses.

Besides, it wasn’t the first time since Iwokethat Isawweird shit.

Needing a distraction, I pulled out my photo albums. Whenever things became rough or my brain spiralled out of control, I found comfort in seeing and remembering my past, the things I knew without a doubt.

I started with my time in Greece. For most of that first year, I’d stayed in that country, touring around, hoping to regain my memories. There was something about Greece that seemed familiar, as if I belonged there, but my colouring, both hair, skin, and eyes, didn’t match the locals. It was there at one of the hotels I stayed at that I met Pano. His mop of curly, auburn hair fascinated me since it was almost as far removed from the locals, who tended to sport dark hair, as mine was. He’d been friendly enough, showing me where to go to let lose when life made me too stressed to function. But there had been a few times when I was out with him that I saw people that appeared to have goat legs approach him. Yet after blinking, their legs turned back to human.

From Greece, I followed my travels up through Europe. I’d visit numerous countries and in one of them I’m met this tall, mountain of a man. Arnlaug. We never spent much time together, only enough to get his name and a drink, but what he didn’t know was that I’d followed him earlier in the day, taking pictures of him. He’d been like no one I’d ever come across before.

After I’d traveled Europe and continued to feel that restlessness within me, I’d jumped on a plane—ended up feeling disappointed at how flying felt—and landed in Australia. From there I’d traveled through Asia and Africa before flying across the Atlantic to South America. I spent about six months there before flying into New York City. The hustle and bustle, the noise, the sheer speed in which everyone moved, had been a huge surprise and overwhelming. Thankfully, I’d run into—literally knocked her to the ground—a woman named Scarlett. She been slightly shorter than me but had curves that I’d envied. My curves were fine, just a little less then I wanted—like every other woman who wanted either more or less of what they had, thinking it would be better—but like my weight, they never seemed to change no matter what I did.

After spending almost a week in NYC—as people called it—I moved on, looking for smaller places to visit in both the US and Canada until I found home, or the place that felt like I needed to be… here.

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