Chapter 1
My brother? What... I have a brother?
I look at Sami and Joe, who are standing silently by my side.
Oliver steps aside from the door before holding it open for us to enter the cabin.
“Take off your shoes,” he instructs as soon as we step inside.
We comply, and I unlace my boots before placing them on the shoe rack by the front door.
Once I straighten up, I take the opportunity to look around. The habit of scouting for escape routes is deeply ingrained in me after years on the run from Rick.
The cabin isn’t large, but it’s warm and inviting. The walls are built from thick horizontal logs, just like the exterior, and decorated with small picture frames filled with old black-and-white photographs. My gaze lingers on them as my heart begins to race. I can’t help but wonder if one of those faded pictures might hold the faces I’ve searched for my entire life. Do they have photographs of my parents? Of my mother? The thought alone is enough to make my chest tighten.
At the far end of the room is a modest kitchen with a counter running along the back wall, a white refrigerator and a black wood-burning stove.
In front of the kitchen sits a round wooden table surrounded by four matching chairs. Beneath it lies a beautiful red rug woven with winding patterns in shades of blue, green and gold.
The room is open-plan. A faded green sofa faces an old television, while a narrow hallway leads deeper into the cabin.
To the left of the kitchen is another door which is closed.
“Welcome. The bathroom is through there,” Oliver says, pointing to the door beside the hallway.
So the closed door must be his bedroom.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asks as he walks into the kitchen. He opens one of the cupboards and pulls out a kettle.
“I’ll have a coffee, please,” Sami says before making herself comfortable on the sofa as though she’s been here a hundred times before.
“I don’t have any coffee. Just tea,” Oliver replies, filling the kettle with water before placing it on top of the wood-burning stove.
He reaches above the stove for a box of matches, strikes one against the side and lights the fire beneath it with practiced ease.
“Tea it is then,” Sami sighs dramatically.
I can’t help but smile.
“Maya?” Oliver looks over at me once the fire has caught. “Would you like some tea?”
“I’d love some, if you have red tea.”
I walk over to the table and take a seat while he reaches into another cupboard to collect three cups. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sami pat the couch beside her. Joe reluctantly walks over and sits down.
“And what about you, brooding fellow?” Oliver asks, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glances at Joe, whose expression is as unreadable as stone. “May I interest you in a cup of tea?”
“No, thanks,” Joe replies curtly.
I follow Oliver with my eyes as he takes down a teapot from one of the cupboards. He then opens another cabinet and retrieves a small metal tin filled with loose tea leaves. Setting it on the counter, he carefully measures out spoonfuls into the teapot, quietly counting each one under his breath.
The kettle begins to boil vigorously on the stove.
“Oh,” he mutters to himself before quickly lifting it off the heat.
The fire continues to crackle softly as he pours the steaming water over the tea leaves.
“It needs to steep for fifteen minutes,” he says before pulling out one of the chairs and sitting opposite me.
Only then do I notice the faint scar running across his forehead and disappearing into one of his temples.
How did I miss that before?
“Have we met?” I ask again.
His ice-blue eyes meet mine.
“Did you know the town you drove through to get here, Coldfoot, is famous for its Northern Lights?” he asks instead. “Have you ever seen them?”
I frown.“No...”
“The Northern Lights, or Aurora Borealis, are rivers of green and blue light that dance across the night sky.” His voice grows softer, almost distant. “Sometimes they move so gently you barely notice them. Other nights they come alive, twisting and swirling above the mountains.”
He pauses for a moment before continuing.
“Our people believe you should always show them respect. Legend says they are the souls of the dead dancing across the heavens. If you mock them or whistle at them, they might come down and take you with them.” A faint smile touches his lips. “The Moon Goddess allows our fallen warriors to visit the earth by dancing through the darkest winter nights.”
I don’t know whether to think his explanation is beautiful or completely insane.
From the corner of my eye, I notice that even Sami and Joe have turned on the sofa to listen.
“Oliver, isn’t it?” I ask, trying once again to steer the conversation back to the questions burning inside me.
“Yes.” The chair scrapes loudly against the wooden floor as he stands and walks over to the teapot. He lifts the porcelain lid and peers inside.
“Almost ready,” he murmurs.
“You’re... my brother?”
“Yes.”
Nothing more.
He opens one of the cupboards and retrieves a small glass jar of honey before placing it beside the cups. Then he pulls open a drawer, takes out three teaspoons and carefully spoons honey into each cup.
“Do you know anything about my family?” I ask, clasping my hands tightly together in my lap. “I mean... our family? Mom and Dad?”
He lifts the lid again. Thin curls of steam drift into the air. “The tea is ready.”
My shoulders sag.
He carefully pours the deep amber liquid into each cup with almost frustrating precision.
“Oliver,” I plead as he places the teapot back on the stove.
“Yes?” he asks, looking at me as though I haven’t spoken.
He picks up one of the cups, walks over to Sami and hands it to her.
“Thank you,” she says awkwardly before blowing gently across the surface.
The floor creaks beneath his boots as he returns to the table. He places the remaining cups in front of us before taking his seat again.
“Please,” I whisper. “I would appreciate if you could answer my questions.”
He slides one of the cups towards me and I wrap my hands around the warm porcelain, but it is almost too hot to hold, forcing me to set it back down.
Instead of answering, Oliver calmly takes a sip from his own cup.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” he asks. “Can’t we sit here and enjoy a good cup of tea first? The herbs were harvested and dried here in the village. One of my friends makes the finest blend in Coldfoot.”
He nods towards my cup.
“Taste it.”
I sigh quietly.
“Answer her,” Joe growls.
Oliver slowly lowers his cup onto the table before turning towards him.
“If you’re going to be disrespectful in my home,” he says, his voice suddenly colder, “you can all leave.”
’Joe, please don’t upset him. I need to ask him about my family,′ I plead through the mind-link.
’I don’t trust him,′ he replies before leaning back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.
“Don’t mind him,” I say, offering Oliver an apologetic smile. “He’s a little grumpy after the long journey.”
Oliver studies me for a long moment before his expression softens. I lift the cup and take a cautious sip. The tea is a beautiful reddish-orange colour with a gentle sweetness, followed by warm notes of ginger and rosehips. It’s unlike anything I’ve tasted before.
“Delicious,” I admit.
A small smile appears on his face before he takes another sip himself.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask.
“Twenty years.”
“Without a pack?” Sami asks from the sofa. She has turned around completely now, kneeling with her cup balanced against the backrest.
Oliver keeps his eyes on me as he answers.
“Yes. Without a pack. Most of us were slaughtered during what we call the Purge. Hunters roamed these mountains, determined to wipe out every winter wolf they could find.”
“Why?” I whisper.
He lets out a humourless laugh.
“They wanted our pelts, our blood... even parts of our bodies for whatever magical nonsense they believed in.” He shrugs. “Or perhaps they simply hated shifters.”
My throat tightens.
“Is that what happened to our family?” I ask quietly. “Did the hunters find them?”
Oliver rises without answering. With the cup still in hand, he walks to the sink and sets it down. He grips the edge of the counter with both hands, lowering his head.
“You should leave.”
I stand as well.
“But Oliver... I’ve travelled all this way.”
He raises one hand, stopping me before I can continue.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.”
He opens a drawer, pulls out a sheet of paper and quickly writes something down.“Meet me at these coordinates.”He folds the paper once and hands it to me. “I’ll do my best to answer your questions then.”
Without another word, he walks through the door beside the kitchen and closes it behind him.
I stare after him in confusion.
Joe and Sami exchange a glance before shrugging.
Sami gestures towards the hallway, and after giving the closed door one last look, I silently pull on my boots.
We leave the cabin without another word.
It isn’t until we’re back inside the rental car that Joe finally breaks the silence.
“What a weirdo.”
Sami snorts in agreement.
“We have to be patient,” I say quietly, still staring at the cabin through the window. “We’ve come all this way to learn about my family. This can’t all be for nothing.”I place a hand on my stomach.
Sami starts the engine and slowly turns the car around.
“What are hunters?” I ask, looking at Joe.
“In the old days, hunters fought werewolves because they feared us,” he explains. “The knowledge was passed down through generations. I haven’t heard of any active hunters for years, but they certainly existed once. Most packs learned to live peacefully alongside humans, and eventually the hunting faded away.”
“You think there could still be hunters up here?”
Joe looks out of the passenger window. “I hope not.”
The rest of the drive back to our rented cabin passes in silence. I watch the snow-covered mountains rise against the horizon and can’t help wondering whether winter wolves still roam those peaks...
...or if the hunters succeeded in wiping them out.
