Page 2 of Valkyrie Restored

As for the independence, well, that became a big pain in the ass for the hospital staff. Instead of resting quietly in bed, allowing them to examine me, I pushed them out of the way, climbed out of the bed, and promptly fell on my ass. I’d love to say I learned my lesson, but I hadn’t. I fought them everyday to do things for myself. I think they held a party the day I was discharged. It was also why I felt no fear wandering through the woods by myself in the dark.

I took another deep breath before crossing the yard to my greenhouse where I kept a few of my gathering baskets. I’d take one with me to gather new supplies for the natural body and cleaning products I produced. One other piece of knowledge that I kept from my life before the coma. Although this knowledge didn’t materialize until I wandered in the woods one day and ran into a tourist who was about to pick a poisonous plant.

The knowledge clicked, slotting into an empty slot inside me, revealing all the holes for missing pieces that I hadn’t even realized I had. Yet it didn’t kill that restlessness within me. I wandered around Greece, staying close to the water. There was something about it that drew me, that soothed my soul and eased the pain from those missing pieces. Yet it wasn’t enough. The water wasn’t right.

I travelled through Europe and then to North America. Along the way I discovered that being near giant lakes kept that urge to wander under wraps a little longer. Yet still the urge hit. It was why I’d found myself—last year—planning to spend a couple of days at a hotel in Gimli, along the shores of Lake Winnipeg. The first morning I left my hotel for a day of exploring, driving further north, but before I went too far, a sign on the side of the road captured my attention.

“Welcome to the municipality of BiFrost.”

Something in my soul told me to take the exit, so I did. But when I saw the road sign for Valhalla Beach Road, my thumbs prickled. That was it. A settled feeling filled my heart, filled most of those missing pieces, and sent a wave of calmness through me, through my soul.

So when I saw the "For Sale" sign, I didn't hesitate to stop the car, pull out my phone, and call the agent. By the end of the day, I'd signed my name so many times on various pieces of paper that my wrist had swollen, but I didn't care. I was the proud owner of a small, two-bedroom cottage with an attached, heated—something extremely important if I wanted to use it during the long, cold Manitoba winter—workshop, a greenhouse, and most importantly, deeded access to the lake.

The restlessness remained, but it wasn't like it had been. I wasn't being driven from place to place, searching for something that eluded me like before.

Basket in hand, I crossed my backyard, heading to the woods. It had been over a week since my last foray, and I hoped I’d come across a new plant or flower that was ready to be picked. Daisy had been bugging me for some new stock since she’d almost sold all the stock I’d given her.

Despite the increasing light and warmth from the ever-rising sun, the woods remained dim and cool. A welcome change from the heat, dust, and flashes of brightness in my dream. Whenever I spoke about them to my therapist, Diana, she couldn’t understand why they left me so unsettled. I never saw any blood or gore despite knowing they took place in a battle. Nor did I actually see anything that would have accounted for the sheer terror that I always woke up in. Not even my words when I described the feelings the dream brought up could adequately explain it. Her conclusion, along with those of my doctors, said that the terror was a result of whatever brain injury I’d suffered. The one that left me in the hospital without any memories. A quirk. Something the medications were supposed to help with.

With each step, my mood lifted. The cries of the birds, singing their morning songs to each other brought about the first stirrings of joy in my heart. Prairie crocuses continued to bloom while other plant life poked their heads out of the ground. I could still see the occasional mound of snow, but they were far and few between. The warm weather was here to stay and not a moment too soon. It had been a long, cold winter for my first one here, but according to Daisy, the owner of the general store and a new friend, this winter had been mild. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to experience a bad one, but I guess I was stuck. Valhalla Beach and BiFrost had snuck under my skin. It resonated with something within me. It made me calm and felt like home. I’d just have to put up with the winters. And maybe one day I’d even grow to love them. I doubted it, but one could always hope.

And it seemed like the universe wanted me to experience them. By February I’d been going stir-crazy with cabin fever and decided to take part in the time-honoured Canadian tradition of taking a sun holiday. For two weeks, every time I tried to hit purchase on the various vacation packages, the internet went out. Every. Single. Time. I had no issues any other time so… I wasn’t an idiot. I took the hint and toughed it out.

By the time my basket was three quarters full of snippets of green and a riot of colours from the various petals I’d gathered, the gloom had burnt off, giving way to dappled sunlight. For as much as the winters sucked with the cold and the snow, the sheer number of days that the sun shone in winter and summer made up for it.

A rustling sounded off to my left, drawing my attention. Up until now, other than the birds, I hadn’t heard another soul. Curious, I rounded a thicker grove of trees, not remembering them from my other walks and stopped dead in my tracks. It opened into a clearing near the banks of the lake.Hmmm. Where did this come from?

Unlike the rest of the woods, this clearing was awash with colour. Wildflowers bloomed, showcasing their colour. Soft, green grass swayed in the light breeze.What the fuck?It was like the clearing stood in the height of summer instead of early spring.

The hairs on my arms stood on end. A prickle started in the back of my neck. What in the world was going on? If magic was real, this is what I would have thought it felt like. A little like static electricity when your clothes cling to you after coming out of the dryer when you’ve forgotten to use a dryer sheet after losing the wool balls.

The sound came again. Only this time it was louder and closer. The trees on the far side appeared to push apart, admitting a bear into the clearing.A bear!

A bear, larger than any I’d ever seen in a zoo, stood on its hind legs. Solid black against all the colours. It opened its mouth… and roared. The sound reminded me of my dream, undoing much of the calmness I’d achieved. Yet even as my mind raced through every bit of knowledge I had on bears before giving up and screaming at me to run, my body didn’t react. My heart continued to beat as if it didn’t have a care in the world and my lungs continued to take slow, even breaths. Only my brain went into fight or flight mode.

The bear roared again.

2

Hurrit

With no one around,I clamoured out of the lake still in my horse form. No one would look twice at seeing a horse along the banks of the lake, but they would balk at seeing a naked man emerging from the freezing cold lake. Late May was not the normal time for people to go swimming. Not when you could still find places where ice still floated against the shore.

After another quick check—not that I expected to see anyone since only a couple of houses had access to this stretch of secluded beach and that was only after walking through the woods—I released my hold, transforming back into a man. After a brisk rub over my body with the towel, I pulled my jeans back on before sliding my feet into my runners. I bent over and picked up my long, sleeved t-shirt when a loud roar shattered the peace and quiet of early dawn.

What the hell? That sounds like a bear.I gave my head a shake. Sure, this areahadbears, but I’d never seen one here before. Up north, where we had our various hunting lodges, sure, but never this far south. And if it was a bear, then it meant only one thing. The bear was hungry. Ravenous. And possibly ill.

It roared again, shattering any lingering doubt. “Fuck.” I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the animal, but I knew I needed to. A wild, hungry, and possibly sick bear couldn’t be allowed to stay near humans. And stupid me, I’d stormed out of our house, leaving my cell phone on my night table which meant I couldn’t call the Fish and Wildlife personnel in Natural Resources and Northern Development.

Fuck.

Without wasting another moment by putting on my shirt, I stomped off toward the sound. I needed to deal with it quickly before it woke any of the few neighbours. The last thing I needed was to have one of them see me deal with the bear.

I climbed the slight incline and stopped. Double fuck. Our new neighbour—I thought her name was Elin or something like that—stood facing the bear. The giant bear. Unnaturally so.

The bear beat its chest, looking more gorilla like than bear like as it stared her down. I expected to see her turn tail and run, but no, she stood there, staring at it. What was wrong with her? Staring at it was the completely wrong response. Anyone else would have run off by now or dropped to the ground, trying to make themselves look small—both wrong by the way—but it’s what people did when they panicked. Nor did she make herself look bigger. Instead she just stood there, fascinated.

I sidestepped using every ounce of stealth I had in me to keep from letting either of them know I was here. Any sudden movement done by either of us would most likely lead to devastating consequences. And without the bear making a move, putting her life in imminent danger, I was limited in what magic I could use.

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