Chapter 59: Ulfhednar Preview
Astrid
I feel like if I had friends, they would have warned me.
Who knows, maybe I did have people who cared that tried to talk me out of this.
Generic plates say that I’m from London, even if my accent doesn’t, and the car packed with all my belongings said that I was leaving my life behind.
Everything in the Mini Cooper is as nondescript as the rest of me. Nothing feels personal. Half of the clothes, while feminine, are about three sizes too big.
I can’t help but wonder if someone, somewhere, isn’t worrying about me. Waiting for me to show up. If so, it’s been three weeks since I woke up behind the wheel with no memory of who I am or where I from, and whatever search party was sent has given up.
It is the most difficult feeling in the world to describe.
Half of me feels like I belong, and the other half of me just wants to go home. Regardless of driving, presumably a long distance on practical fumes, I had no ID, no papers, not even a phone to give me or my rescuers a clue as to who I was or where I was going. Let alone where I was from.
The only thing that feels remotely familiar is a little potted plant.
A very fussy thing that requires specific watering conditions.
Strange that I can remember that, like a feeding schedule for a persnickety cat, but not my own name. It’s not like the green sprout will whine its complaint or worse bite me in the backside, don’t ask, but I still feel indentured to the thing.
Regardless of the awkward sizing, the clothes I have are a far cry more comfortable than anything the locals have offered. I feel horrible for the thought. Thankless even. The people have been nothing but kind to me, regardless of me being as mindless and fickle as my pet plant.
It all feels so strange.
I know somewhere that I’m no stranger to frustration or adversity. At the same time, their old-fashioned clothing makes my skin welt, and it’s all I can do to get through most meals without being sick.
I failed miserably in my attempt to excuse myself from the evening feast the night we had venison. One bite of the stew made me violently ill for about three days. I stopped before my stomach rejected the boar, just by the smell, and so far, I can only manage a couple of fish that I know how to catch by some miracle.
I’m sure that it is wildly offensive to my hosts that I go into the forest, looking for berries and other things that I know are safe to eat. The worst by far were fat slugs and creepy crawly things that my instinct was to swallow without chewing.
I didn’t.
It’s not like I’m ever alone. The people are never too far from me, and part of me just hopes someone else comes along, so I can be left to my misery alone.
There is a feeling of absolute confusion, and never-ending upset with the looming hole constantly in my head. I can’t explain anything and feel as suspicious as I do guilty for the fact that I’m utterly helpless.
None of it feels right.
And yet, some things are ridiculously comforting.
Like I know what a phone is, and that it was strange that I didn’t have one. I know what a car is, but don’t find it odd in the least that there aren’t any in the village. The fact that lights are glowing rocks, which absorb the sun and only illuminate when the sun goes down is disturbing.
They have basic toilets and wash basins, but I’m craving a shower, as badly as a food I can’t name. Apparently I’m a ‘lightweight’, and don’t know how to drink. The sweet mede doesn’t make me ill, but I find that being even more fuzzy only makes my condition worse.
Water feels like it’s never been so sweet, and I could drink a gallon of it in one sitting.
It’s the time of night where we’re all supposed to go inside, and I’m not going to risk a repeat of my first night in Grimmory. When I was told that there are monsters who hunt at night, and that I couldn’t leave.
I wasn’t trying to pitch a fit or be disruptive, I just didn’t understand.
I could clearly remember the night sky. Watching stars and staring at the moon for hours. I was simply asking questions when the man who found me, Tyr, took me to the basement, tied me to a chair and gagged me.
The leader of the village, Jax, soon followed, offering me reassurance.
I was ready to wet myself, and felt more vulnerable than I ever believed possible. I didn’t think a body was capable of shaking or sweating the way that I had, and while I picked up a few words of the conversation, all in all, I was utterly lost in the guttural language the men spoke.
Once they were sure I wasn’t going to scream, Jax took the gag off while Tyr sat at the top of the stairs between me and the exit.
Soon after, shrills and blood-curdling screams came from the forest. I knew instinctively that they were no more natural than they were human. Jax pacified me with a considerable amount of calm and patience.
Explaining that they could not come inside or pass the village boundary. It was for my safety and protection that I didn’t go outside though. People hear different things, and many have been lured by the creatures in the past.
How anyone could find those shrills ‘enchanting’ is beyond my comprehension.
Still, it’s said that Draugr, the undead and those who walk again, are able to hypnotize us somehow. The entire night, Jax asked if I heard voices. Something told me that it was something I shouldn’t admit to even if I did.