Page 5 of A Snowstorm & A Stronghorn

“You’ll freeze out there,” he says, his deep voice steady and calm despite the situation. “Please, come back inside. I promise I mean you no harm.”

I back away, my gaze darting around the cabin. There has to be another way out. A window, maybe? But as I move, Bram mirrors my actions, always keeping himself between me and any potential exit.

“What are you?” I demand, my voice quavering. “Some kind of...of monster?”

A flicker of hurt passes through those amber eyes, quickly masked. “I’m a Minotaur,” he says patiently. “Half-man and half-bull. Well, that was the original way, but I come from a long line of just Minotaurs who’ve married other Minotaurs... That’s not important right now. I know it’s a shock, but—”

“A Minotaur?” I interrupt, hysteria creeping into my voice. “That’s impossible. They’re myths, legends. This isn’t real. It can’t be real.”

My back hits the wall, and I slide down it, drawing my knees to my chest. My head spins while reality seems to warp around me. Bram takes a step closer, and I flinch. “Don’t come any closer,” I warn, though my voice lacks conviction.

He stops, then slowly lowers himself to sit on the floor, putting himself at my eye level. He keeps a good distance between us, and his movements are deliberate and non-threatening. “I understand you’re scared,” he says softly. “This is a lot to take in, but I swear to you, Fiona, I’m not your enemy. I only want to help.”

I stare at him, my heart thundering. Now that the initial shock is fading, I force myself to really look at him. Yes, his features are bovine, but there’s an undeniable intelligence in those eyes, and despite his fearsome appearance, his posture is almost...sheepish. Like he’s more afraid of scaring me than I am of him.

“How is this possible? Minotaurs aren’t real. None of this can be real.”

He sighs, running a hand through the long mane of fur on his head. “The world is bigger and stranger than most humans realize. There are pockets of magic scattered across the globe, places where creatures like me can live in peace. Evershift Haven is one such place, hidden in a pocket universe.”

I stare at Bram, my mind struggling to process his words. Pockets of magic? Pocket universes? Creatures like him? Meaning there are more like him? It sounds like something out of a fantasy novel, not real life. Yet here he is, a living, breathing Minotaur sitting across from me.

“Evershift Haven,” I repeat slowly, testing the name on my tongue. “And it’s full of magical creatures?”

Bram nods, watching me carefully. “Not just creatures. Witches, fae, shapeshifters—all manner of magical beings who need a safe place to call home, and some humans who’ve found their way here over the years.”

I inhale and exhale slowly, trying to steady myself. “And you live there?”

“I do. My family has been in Evershift Haven for generations. We’re protected by powerful magic that keeps us hidden from the outside world.”

My head spins with questions. “But how? Why haven’t I ever heard of this place?”

Bram shifts, settling more comfortably on the floor. “The magic that protects us also obscures us from human perception.Unless you know exactly where to look, you’d never find us. Your car accident brought you to the edge of our territory—that’s why Grizelda sensed your presence.”

“Grizelda,” I murmur, remembering the name he mentioned earlier. “The one who told you to look for me?”

He nods. “She’s our town witch. Powerful, if a bit...eccentric. She maintains the protective barrier around Evershift Haven.”

I rub my temples, feeling another headache coming on, and the first one has barely faded. It’s all so much to take in. Part of me still wants to believe this is some elaborate hoax or hallucination, but the evidence is sitting right in front of me, impossible to deny. “So what happens now?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.

His expression softens. “Now, you rest and recover. The storm won’t let up for a while yet. Once it’s safe, we can figure out what to do next.”

I nod, suddenly weary beyond measure. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving me drained and aching. Bram must notice, because he slowly rises to his feet.

“There’s a bathroom through that door,” he says, gesturing. “It’s small by my standards but should be comfortable for you. Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll see about finding you some food.”

I eye the door warily, then look back at Bram. Despite his monstrous appearance, there’s genuine kindness in his eyes, and really, what choice do I have? “Okay,” I agree quietly. “Thank you.”

He nods and retreats to what I assume is the kitchen area. I push myself to my feet, wincing at the various aches and pains, and make my way to the bathroom door.

Inside, I flip the lock and look around, surprised to find a spacious, modern bathroom. It’s easily twice the size of my old bathroom back in my childhood home that I sold after Mom’sdeath. A large clawfoot tub dominates one corner, while a separate shower stall takes up another. The sink and toilet are oversized, clearly built to accommodate Bram’s massive frame.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror and grimace. My red hair is a tangled mess, while my face is pale and drawn. Dirt and small scratches mar my skin—evidence of my trek through the forest. I look like I’ve been through hell, which, I suppose, isn’t far from the truth. At least the icy level of Dante’s Hells.

The promise of a hot bath is too tempting to resist. I start the water running, then remember my duffel bag. Poking my head out of the bathroom, I spot it near the couch where I’d been lying.

“Bram?” I call out hesitantly. “Could you pass me my bag, please?”

He appears a moment later, carrying the duffel easily in one massive hand. He sets it just inside the doorway, careful not to invade my space.

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