I laid a finger on his arm, muscles tight, as I hoped he wouldn't pull away. What a puzzle he was, this beautiful man who'd sent shivers of horror crawling up and down my spine the first time I'd seen him. This man who was a wolf. This man who offered his life and his service to Odin, flouting the ancient legends that claimed he would betray the All-Father and bring about the end of the world.
Fen's rugged profile darkened, his shoulders stiff like granite. But only for a moment. I guess he struggled with his own share of brooding demons.
I shuffled my feet, and a few loosened stones went tumbling down into the snowy slopes, scattering like my thoughts as I tried to think of something comforting to say to him. Compared to Fen's father, I could hardly complain about my own, so I mentioned a different not-so-nice father. "You know, you aren't the only one to have a crappy dad. Look at Aidan's dad. He sent his henchmen to kill his own son. That's way worse, in my opinion."
Fenrir tilted his head, a skeptical gleam in his eyes. "Loki meant to kill Aidan. I do not understand why you are not viciously angry."
"But I am viciously angry. Just not viciously angry with you! Come on, Fen. You can't let this whole thing affect you like this." I couldn't believe I needed to give advice to a being hundreds of years older than me, a being so powerful he could kill me with one blow.
He shook his head and turned to face me, a contemplative wrinkle to his brow as he laid a hand on my shoulder. "I had always thought that humans did not possess the capacity for purity of heart. I believe you are different."
"Maybe because I'm not human. Never was, never will be." I sighed, and my wings fluttered their answering sadness. A tiny part of me still yearned to fit in with humanity. But my own reality killed that option. I no longer belonged. I'd never belonged, never understood or fit in with the whole cheerleader, popularity-contest side of human life. Always on the sidelines, always playing new girl, never more than a temporary friend and freak.
"I do understand what you mean, Bryn," said Fen, "but it is the failings of humanity that I am referring to."
I bristled. "Failings? Are you saying you admire me because of my failings?" I clenched my fists, ready to follow my Valkyrie instinct into full-blown fury. Fen had me pretty off balance today.
"Yes," he answered enigmatically, moving to the edge of the precipice. My heart thundered in my throat, and when I swallowed, I might as well have taken a sip of solid stone.
What was he looking at? I inched forward and peeped over the edge.
He stared down, eyes focused on the black rocks and snow mingling in the hushed valley. "Your failings are what make you so special. You are not perfect, and that is a rather good thing. It is all that emotion inside you that makes you so different."
Different? Thanks for the reminder, Fen. At least now I know exactly what you think of me. Guess I was wrong to think I'd finally found a place where I belonged.
I clenched my fists and snapped at him, "I hardly see how different my emotions are from yours, or any of the other gods, for that matter." Odin's and Freya's natures were both fickle and capricious, selfish and selfless—an aspect of godhood I'd found difficult to understand at first. "Freya showed me that even the gods have their popular crowd."
"Popular crowd?" Fen glanced at me, a shadowed frown darkening his forehead, his ebony hair sweeping his shoulders.
"Yeah. The cool dudes. The hip chicks," I teased.
Fen scowled, though it didn't mess with his handsome face at all.
"Okay," I relented. "The people everyone wants to be like. That's Freya. And the haters, like Loki."
"Ah. I understand." He nodded, a sad gleam in his eye.
"The gods of Asgard are really no different from us humans, you know," I said, a satisfied smirk at my lips. "Unless, of course, you consider the whole thirty-foot-high size thing." I paused to gauge his mood before adding, "And the gods can die just like us, too."
Fen nodded, eyes still trained on the depths of the cavern.
"So what are we doing here?" I followed his gaze down into the valley. "I am so not jumping off any cliff to prove how not human I am. What are you trying to do? Check if I can defy death?"
"No, Bryn. This is part of your training." He spoke slowly with exaggerated patience.
"What is? To jump into oblivion when I can't fly? You're supposed to teach me how to fly—not force me to jump to my death!" I couldn't help it when my voice reached a shrill and almost hysterical squeak.
"How will you know if you can fly if you do not try?"
"Well, I certainly ain't trying to fly by taking a flying leap off the side of a frickin' mountain!"
I snapped my gaze away from him, folding my arms in a huff. My eyes traced the rocky pathway leading down into the valley's pristine depths, as if the scenic view somehow held the answer to Fen's psycho training plan.
Glaring at the view meant turning my back on Fen.
Big mistake.
I'd assumed he still stood beside me, lost in his funk, entranced by the silvery-white valley. But when my back suddenly warmed, as some large object shielded my body from the icy fingers of the gusting wind, every muscle in my body tensed. I glanced over my shoulder, my heart tripping.
Too late.
Too late to turn and defend myself.
Too late to stop him.
For a shadow of a second, I stared into his eyes, shocked, horrified he'd do such a thing to me. A thousand fears filtered through my frigid brain. Was he in cahoots with Loki? Or was he Freya's dog all along?
It took an eternity for him to blink. Even longer for me to blink.
Then Fenrir pushed me, and I fell off the cliff into pure white oblivion.
Chapter 5
I fell, tumbling and twisting in the arms of the frigid wind. Regret and hurt dived with me, and I screamed, a hoarse mix of fear and vicious anger at Fen. After everything he'd taught me, had it really come to this? How could he just shove me off a cliff?
Did he really mean to kill me?
Bitter tears froze on my cheeks.
Time slowed.
Embroiled in my icy rage, I almost forgot I was plummeting to the ground—until a gust tipped me forward and I had a sudden, clear view of the jagged rocks below racing up to meet me. Vertigo clawed at my head and churned in my gut, threatening to empty what little food I had in my stomach. I moaned, too terrified to scream.
I was going to die.
I sucked in a breath, tried to relax myself, grasping at the fast-disappearing threads of my calm. The temptation to close my eyes was almost impossible to ignore. But I didn't dare. Instead I remained paralyzed, unable even to blink at the oncoming rocks. My wings flapped frantically, loud and desperate in my ears. I wasn't going to make it. With a shudder, I went into full-scale panic, arms flailing, screaming like a banshee. My heart thrummed, beating so fast it thundered in my ears.
Between my heartbeat in overdrive and the roar of the wind, I almost didn't notice the other odd sound: a hollow flapping close behind me, like boat sails buffeted in a strong wind.
The sound of calmly beating wings.
I threw a desperate, hysterical glance over my shoulders. My jaw dropped. At my shoulders, my wings spread out in a dramatic array of gold-tipped, red-bronze feathers. As magnificent as those appendages were to look at, they'd never been much use to me. They were just there.
Until now.
Now they flapped and flailed about as crazily as my arms, scattering fluffy, feathery bits of dark red as I plummeted.
My wings were beating!
The only problem was, those random, frantic sweeps of my wings came a bit too late. The uncoordinated movements barely slowed my plunge toward the onrushing ground. Only on the very last hysterical breath before impact did I feel a tug at my shoulders, as muscles, wings and feathers struggled against the air.
Thanks, Fen. Too bad you didn't throw me off a higher mountain.
I hit the snow-covered ground and tumbled, head over heels, in an inelegant knot of feathers, arms and legs.
At last I came to a stop, face down in a thick bed of fresh snow. I didn't dare move a muscle.
I'm alive? I have to be alive. I doubt dead people feel this much pain.
Unrelenting fists of wind eagerly pummeled my limbs where bone had hit the rocks, hidden beneath the benign softness of the carpet of snow. My breath came in short, furious bursts as I shoved myself up into a sitting position, anger warming my limbs as I scanned the outcroppings above for Fen's betraying face. I sucked in icy air, scrambling to my feet.
Is this it? Are you going to come down and challenge me? Are you going to come up behind me and stab me in the back?
No sign of Fen on the ledge far above. Where was he? Fear mingled with anger, both as frigid as the other. I spun about, eager to protect my back in case Fen came racing at me, all wolf power and wolf speed, ready to pounce and finish me off.
The valley gleamed, pristine, a white so bright I had to squint against the glare. Nothing moved for as far as the eye could see.
My breath clouded in front of my face as the silence burrowed into my ears. I wasn't all that confident I could defend myself against the powerful General of the Ulfr Army.
If he caught me, I was dead meat.
A tiny avalanche erupted to my right. I squinted again, keeping my eyes on the tumbling ball of white dust as it descended the face of the mountain. My heart thudded faster and faster, so quick I felt lightheaded. I'd turned around and over so many times as I fell that my dizziness brought with it a touch of nausea. I knew I had no defense against this powerful wolf-man. But it didn't mean I would go down without a fight.