communities of people, places where she could be safe among her own kind. People like her, those who tended to exist in the imaginations and mythologies of ancient peoples or fairytales. Some people called them shifters, others demons or ghosts. In all honesty, Emily had never really known what to call those like her – all she knew was the consequence of her birthright. That from time to time, the Bear would awaken from its hibernation, an instinct flaring like a match in the dark cavern of her subconscious. It was always there, that animal alacrity, pulsing in her veins. Waiting to get out.
She shrugged and turned up the music again. She couldn’t escape the foreboding sense of isolation and loneliness. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen another car in either direction for over an hour. She gulped and tried to focus on getting to Fairbanks before the sun disappeared over the horizon. Already she could make out that first hint of golden light, signaling the night.
She refolded the map with both hands, steering with her knee, and stuffed it haphazardly back into the glove compartment. Another envelope fell out. She stopped, transfixed by the manila piece of paper, and hesitated before picking it up and setting it on her lap. She bit her lip and unfolded the requisition form – ‘Emily Jones, Registered Nurse – Fairbanks, Denali Center’ and a starting date for her internship at the hospital.
As the forest pulled away slightly, she could make out the orange glow of the city, and soon she was idling down the main stretch. It looked like a sleepy town. Here and there she could see several of the residents wandering to and fro, an inn with the ‘Vacancy’ sign flickering, several bars that blared annoying pop-tunes through their open doors. She gulped again, trying to settle her nerves, and followed the hastily scrawled directions on the envelope.
At the northern end of the town, hedging the river, she found the correct address and double-checked it in the glare of her headlights before parking on the side of the road. It looked like someone’s bad idea of a neighborhood – half a dozen rustic looking cabins following the bend of the river, looking out across the rocky flats and the mountains in the distance. Just above the horizon, the sun was sinking between two peaks, and finally winked out just as she approached the series of cabins.
“Number 2.” she voiced to herself, walking down the sidewalk.
A couple dressed in pile jackets and heavy hiking boots gave her a curious look as they passed, and Emily blushed, realizing that she was dressed only in a T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of running shoes.
“Excuse me.” Emily asked.
The woman turned and Emily could see the wide high brim of her cheeks, the auburn skin and hair that was as black as water underground. She smiled. “You look lost.” The woman laughed, unwinding her arm from her partner, a taller man with a thick coarse beard.
“Uh, yeah… I just, just got in, actually. I’m looking for the Klondike Kabins…the second cabin, I guess?” Emily explained, holding up the useless directions on the envelope.
“You’re in the right place,” the woman said, “they’re just down there. Sam runs the place, but he’s probably… out, right now. He mentioned he had another tenant coming in.”
“I’m Emily,” she said embarrassed, quickly holding out her hand.
The woman took it with both hands, a gesture that surprised Emily. “I’m Lily, this is Mark. We actually live in Number 4, so we’re technically neighbors. For a little while…we’re building a house further up the river, but we’re staying here for now.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Emily said quickly, trying to cover her accent. “Actually, I’m supposed to be working at the
She shrugged and turned up the music again. She couldn’t escape the foreboding sense of isolation and loneliness. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen another car in either direction for over an hour. She gulped and tried to focus on getting to Fairbanks before the sun disappeared over the horizon. Already she could make out that first hint of golden light, signaling the night.
She refolded the map with both hands, steering with her knee, and stuffed it haphazardly back into the glove compartment. Another envelope fell out. She stopped, transfixed by the manila piece of paper, and hesitated before picking it up and setting it on her lap. She bit her lip and unfolded the requisition form – ‘Emily Jones, Registered Nurse – Fairbanks, Denali Center’ and a starting date for her internship at the hospital.
As the forest pulled away slightly, she could make out the orange glow of the city, and soon she was idling down the main stretch. It looked like a sleepy town. Here and there she could see several of the residents wandering to and fro, an inn with the ‘Vacancy’ sign flickering, several bars that blared annoying pop-tunes through their open doors. She gulped again, trying to settle her nerves, and followed the hastily scrawled directions on the envelope.
At the northern end of the town, hedging the river, she found the correct address and double-checked it in the glare of her headlights before parking on the side of the road. It looked like someone’s bad idea of a neighborhood – half a dozen rustic looking cabins following the bend of the river, looking out across the rocky flats and the mountains in the distance. Just above the horizon, the sun was sinking between two peaks, and finally winked out just as she approached the series of cabins.
“Number 2.” she voiced to herself, walking down the sidewalk.
A couple dressed in pile jackets and heavy hiking boots gave her a curious look as they passed, and Emily blushed, realizing that she was dressed only in a T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of running shoes.
“Excuse me.” Emily asked.
The woman turned and Emily could see the wide high brim of her cheeks, the auburn skin and hair that was as black as water underground. She smiled. “You look lost.” The woman laughed, unwinding her arm from her partner, a taller man with a thick coarse beard.
“Uh, yeah… I just, just got in, actually. I’m looking for the Klondike Kabins…the second cabin, I guess?” Emily explained, holding up the useless directions on the envelope.
“You’re in the right place,” the woman said, “they’re just down there. Sam runs the place, but he’s probably… out, right now. He mentioned he had another tenant coming in.”
“I’m Emily,” she said embarrassed, quickly holding out her hand.
The woman took it with both hands, a gesture that surprised Emily. “I’m Lily, this is Mark. We actually live in Number 4, so we’re technically neighbors. For a little while…we’re building a house further up the river, but we’re staying here for now.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Emily said quickly, trying to cover her accent. “Actually, I’m supposed to be working at the
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