Yuletide Charms and Orcish Arms: A Christmas Paranormal Novella (Mates of Holiday Harbor Book 3) by S.M. Lark

Author:S.M. Lark [Lark, S.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Twelve

-Eirlys

I pull on my mittens, the fuzzy inner fabric comforting against the chill. A snowmachine growls before me, a hulking beast of metal and power. It’s intimidating, to say the least. I’ve never been one for extreme sports or dangerous adventures. Since I stopped forcing myself on Durok and Callon’s adventure, I realized I’m more an elf of comfort, of books and cozy firesides and quiet moments under the stars.

A knot of fear twists in my stomach, a gnarled reminder of the decision I’ve made to help search for Callon. Doubt creeps into the corners of my mind, whispering words of caution. Had I been too hasty? Too stubborn? I’d always had a knack for jumping headfirst into situations, letting my emotions guide me rather than logic.

I glance back at Durok who is talking to the grizzled elf going with us, finding his gaze already on me. His eyes are a storm of emotions — concern, fear, admiration. It’s the last one that takes me by surprise.

Why would he admire me? I’m not brave. I’m terrified. I’m a librarian, not a hero.

Durok approaches me, his gaze studying my face.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his neck.

Am I? I’m about to venture out into a blinding white arctic ice, our only guide a surly and intimidating elf who could probably wrestle a reindeer to the ground. But I nod. Because bravery isn’t about not being afraid. It’s about being afraid and doing it anyway.

He gives me a small, encouraging smile and knocks lightly on my helmet, the sound echoing around me. It’s a soft, comforting gesture, the kind that warms me from the inside out, like a sip of hot chocolate after a winter walk. He pulls his own helmet on and swings onto the snowmachine with a grace that belies his size.

He motions for me to climb on behind him, and with a deep breath, I do. The machine vibrates beneath us, and I grip onto Durok’s waist, wishing I could press my cheek against the dark fabric.

As we follow the tracks leading into the white expanse, my mind begins to race. The world outside my helmet turns from a magical village to the inside of a ping pong ball. The roar of the engine is the only sound, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I’m surrounded by white. It’s disorienting. Disconcerting. There’s a loneliness to it, a cold isolation that seeps into my bones. I’m pressed against Durok’s back, yet I’ve never felt so alone.

The isolation is a living, breathing entity, wrapping its icy tendrils around my heart.

Is this how Callon felt?

My fingers clutch at the fabric of Durok’s jacket, the only anchor in this sea of white.

Fear begins to creep in, whispering doubts and what-ifs in my ear. What if we get lost? What if a storm kicks up? What if...?

But then, I remember Durok’s gaze — the concern, the fear, but most of all, the admiration. I remember the way he knocked on my helmet, a small gesture of encouragement.

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