A Strange Welcome...

Darkness surrounded me as I stepped into the Shadow unsure of where it would take me.

The voice of Me’shwara rang in my mind one last time. “The one you once called El Diablito holds the key to finding Alexa, although he may not yet realize it.”

Just as I tried to wrap my mind around this little nugget of wisdom, I was hit by a blast of cold air. I soon found myself knee deep in frigid snow, my feet crunching through the top crust and slipping on the icy rocks below. It was so painful I dropped my clothes and gear out of shock.

Before I bothered to look around, I started grabbing articles of clothing and throwing them on as quickly as I could. The cold quickly numbed my hands—I could no longer feel my feet at all—so getting dressed became an exercise of frustration that involved more than a little cursing.

The clothing I had with me was hardly designed for a hard winter. I had a pair of ragged black jeans, a long-sleeved black turtleneck shirt, a pair of ankle high black leather boots and the black leather biker jacket I had worn more to hold gear and cover my batons than for warmth. I didn’t have to worry about getting cold before.

I strapped my batons back into place in their special drop holsters on each wrist before slipping into the jacket. By time I was fully dressed I realized that while I was still feeling very cold, I was able to put the discomfort out my mind and force my limbs into working properly.

Standing up straight again, I finally took the time to survey my surroundings. I took a deep breath, tasting the cold, clean air infused with the tangy taste of the surrounding pine forest. It felt so strange to breathe again that it took me a moment to realize that not only could I smell and taste the scents in the air, but I could feel the rushing pulse of a heart pushing blood through my arteries and veins.

I reveled in all of these fresh sensations even as my fingers and toes began to ache with the cold and my stomach let me know that a single fish wasn’t going to last very long.

Layers of fresh snow covered the field of battle, but there were also any number of fresh animal tracks leading up to and around a number of suspicious looking lumps that seemed to correspond to where many of the enemy had died.

A broken shaft of wood protruded from the nearest mound only a few dozen feet away. I pushed through the thigh-deep snow to reach the spot and pulled on the shaft. It came loose with a little effort, revealing the butt end of a thick spear. I used the three foot long shaft to clear away some of the snow to reveal a pile of rotting Reaver carcasses. Their formerly human faces twisted in grim snarls, forever frozen in this final, nearly forgotten death.

Looking down at the remains of these poor bastards, I debated the merits of rifling among the bodies to search for any weapons that might help me take down some fresh dinner, but the distant, high-pitched whine of a motor echoing through the forest caught my attention instead.

I stood up and concentrated on pin-pointing the sound. It could only mean that someone else was nearby. Whoever it was, they were coming closer, perhaps even coming to this very clearing.

I considered whether to hide or not, but decided that meeting an enemy would be better than not seeing anyone at all. I began to plough through the snow towards where I estimated the snowmobile was coming from.

Before I could reach the edge of the clearing, a single snowmobile emerged from the tree line along a path that I failed to notice before. The rider pulled up the machine and disengaged the transmission as soon as he saw me.

The rider was a big man, a rugged man by the look of his clothing. He was dressed in furs from the neck down, including heavy mittens and boots that had a home-made appearance. The only concession to modernity was a heavy black motorcycle helmet with a full-mirrored visor. I could tell that he was a man though by the long, thick beard that pushed out beneath his visor, even if it did almost blend in with the furs he wore. He had a long, large caliber rifle slung over his shoulder and a holstered revolver strapped to his side. Trailing behind his snowmobile was a small sled that was packed high with gear.

The man stood up on while still astride the idling machine and lifted his visor before calling out to me. “Howdy stranger. Are ye the one called Bones?” He spoke with such a thick, rolling accent that it took me a moment to puzzle out his words.

I nodded. “Yes, Agent Rusty Bones. Were you expecting me?”

The man pulled off his helmet, letting his full head of long hair and his thick beard flow freely. He was sweating profusely even in this cold. “Ah, it’s good to have this blasted thing off, but better’n getting poked in the eye by a stray branch, eh?” He stepped off of the snowmobile, leaving the helmet on the seat. “Agent Bones, I’ve been waiting and watching for you for the better part of three months now. I cannae tell you how glad I was to finally see the alarm go off.”

“Alarm?”

He nodded as he pulled of his right mitten and reached out his beefy hand towards me. I shook it, amazed at the feel of another person’s skin in contact with mine. The warmth was quite welcome.

“It’s more like a gemstone I reckon. It was given to me by the fire-haired witch friend of yours, Ravyn, I think she called herself. It lights up whenever magick is used in this clearing. She said you might return this way and asked me to keep an eye out for you.”

“Well, I’m glad that is alright, she was hurt when I had to leave.”

“Ooch, she’s a right tough one, that one is. But I like my gals a little meatier, if you know what I mean.” His left hand clomped me on the shoulder with that comment. “Now, the Frau, she gets my juices flowing, as they say.”

“Was the Frau here as well? I don’t remember seeing her at the battle.”

He shook his massive head. “I don’ rightly know, mate. I wasnae there meself. I was asleep when all of the ruckus took place.” He loosened his gun belt and dropped the belt with the holstered sidearm onto the small sled. He slipped the sling of the rifle over his head and placed that into a special slot on the sled before kneeling down to unhitch the sled from the snowmobile as he continued to talk.

“I don’ want to be rude, mon frere, but it is time for me to get back to my home. This place is too warm for my liking, why this global warming is going to drive me crazy.”

Once the sled was unhitched, he pulled out a very large, loose looking harness and snapped it into place. He then slipped into the harness and nodded towards the snowmobile with the balck helmet sitting on the seat.

“This machine, she’s for you. There’s a GPS unit on the dash and enough fuel to take to the cabin that has been set up for you by your friends.”

“What about you? How will you get back?”

He rocked his head back with a hearty laugh. “Ooch, I’m heading north, my friend. Donnae worry for me, I’m in my element. Adieu, Monsieur Bones, until we meet again. Give my regards to the Frau.”

With those final words, the giant man shouldered his even larger harness and began trudging north through the snow.

"Hey, who should I tell the Frau sent the regards, what is your name?"

With a throaty laugh, he called out one word. "Raxgar!"

I was less than surprised to see his body begin to shift into the form of an extremely large grizzly bear. “That helps to explain his infatuation with the Frau.”

(To be continued…Tuesday, August 5.)