Page 43 of Untethering Dark

Timekeeping hadn’t ever been a strength of his, but humans were very good at measuring it, as well as studying themselves and their prehistory.

He reared himself in the time when ice and snow choked the life out of the earth, and great mammoths, wolves, and reindeer roamed the valleys. Humans of that age wrapped themselves in furs and skins, living in small, nomadic groups, as quick to murder each other as they were to trade. In those days, not much distinguished them from other herd animals, but they had made leaps and bounds as a species in the time since.

Wonders never ceased. As infuriating as they could sometimes be, they were also fascinating.

“I remember too much, too early.” Astrid said it like it was a fault. “Not being born, of course, but a lot of what came after. That’s another thing that sets me apart from others. It’s not exactly a short list.”

“They didn’t understand you.” Her teachers, her classmates, her parents.

“But Perchta did.” Astrid smiled, meeting his eyes. There was a light there that wasn’t when she was sharing her earliest memories. “She saw winter’s touch in me and knew I wasn’t meant for a human life. My Hexe training began after she brought me to live with her. She might not have birthed me, but she’s the mother of my heart and soul, and her home the warmest and happiest I’ve ever lived in.”

Wanting touch, he leaned against her and stayed there, vicariously sharing in this quiet joy. As if he could absorb a piece of it for himself. With his arm pressed firmly against hers, there was no passing off the contact as another accidental bump or brush of bodies. When she did not pull away, a strange fluttery sensation took flight in his chest.

In a lifetime that spanned thousands of years, it was little moments like this that made him forget the slow slog of time. Listening to Astrid speak, watching her rebuild what had been destroyed, thrilling in her fierce tenacity.

It made him want to fight for himself. For his own happiness. It didn’t feel so far out of reach when she was beside him.

“When other kids my age would’ve been celebrating Einschulung on their very first day of school, Perchta decorated the tree we lived in with garland, homemade paper streamers dyed with berries, and ornaments she made from ice—all so I could have my own Schultütenbaum. Then she had me climb it to get my Schultüte cone, which she tied to a branch with ribbon.”

Astrid touched the end of her braid. The silk blue tie holding her hair in place was so worn and faded it was nearly threadbare. “The cone was filled with all sorts of things. Lots of baked treats, a slate board, a box of white chalk, primers in reading and mathematics, vials of ingredients for potion making, a hunting knife.” Her smile brightened. “All because she didn’t want me to miss out on a tradition I would’ve grown up with if I’d chosen a human life.”

“It sounds like you had a good childhood with Perchta and that she prepared you well for a life in the forest.”

“I really did. I’ve learned so much from her and have much more to learn still. I’m to become a hag soon.”

Both her heartbeat and the excitement in her voice rose, emitting a bubbly energy that was addictive. What if he tookup a new hobby? Or found a new goal to pursue, something grander than gardening and eating people? Hope bloomed, too, at the possibilities this news meant. He didn’t know how long hags lived, but if she became one, he wouldn’t lose her after a few short decades. He could have her company for a millennium and a half at least.

“You’ll really have to compete with me then when the time comes for us to take down our enemies. Who knows? Maybe I’ll have to save a few for you.”

He marveled at her use of “us” and “our.” He’d never been a part of an “us” before. There’d always been a degree of separation between him and the other beings he interacted with during the more sociable stretches of his life.

It made him want to take Astrid back to his den, tuck her into the warm curve of his body, and hold her close until the sun came up. An ally, a friend, someone to treasure in the heart of all that he was.

“You’ll make a good hag. Of that, I’ve no doubt. If there’s any who’d beat me in a challenge, I’m sure it would be you, cunning, clever witch. I’ll never forget how close I’d come to eating your poisoned Plätzchen.”

The rosy tinge to her cheeks, put there by the cold and her gardening labors, deepened. “Luckily for the both of us, that’s not what happened.”

Lucky, indeed.

Row after row they dug and planted, the late hours of the night ticking away. Astrid didn’t show any signs of stopping, even though her pace had greatly slowed, and her breathing had grown heavy again, deep circles forming beneath her eyes.

Stubborn, hardworking witch.

Dusting off his hands and flicking dirt from his claws, Gudariks said, “I’m going to take a break. Would you like to join?”

Astrid looked to the sky, and the moon’s trajectory, then back at him. “I completely lost track of time. Let’s stop here.”

Rising, he held out his hand to her, which she took readily, their hearts fluttering in tandem at the contact. Should the weight of someone’s hand in his excite him so? He was wholly unaccustomed to such feelings, and yet they settled nice and warm in his chest cavity.

Her movements were stiff, so he gently helped her to her feet, catching her elbow when she stumbled and swayed. “I’m dizzy” was all she said before burying her face in his chest and clutching his frame, her voice barely a whisper. “Don’t let me fall.”

He wrapped his arms around her. When her eyes went glassy, and she slumped against him, he held her like she once held him. Offering comfort in the face of the most elusive enemy—time, and the things he could not remember, not in full. He would’ve held her until sunrise and beyond, but within moments the light returned to her eyes, and she straightened—that dip in and out of consciousness brief.

Gazing up at him, her lips parted, words on the edge of her tongue. But nothing came. Just the intake of breath and the feel of her fingers grasping his fur, pulling lightly. He was holding on to her longer than necessary, he knew that, but thishug.

The pressure, the molding of bodies so different—coolness to his heat, small where he was large, and each of them by turns soft and hard—and yet in such harmony.

We fit well together.

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