“I didn’t either.” She pushed a hand through her braids. “Look, I don’t even believe in this stuff! I was raised a … lukewarm Lutheran, and my father’s family in Mississippi are all Southern Baptist.” She winced, hearing the words coming out of her mouth.
- Shards of the Eld
- Bound by Blood
- Moments Lost
- Hudiksvall, Sweden
- Thomas Bradley, father
- Magdalene Bradley, mother
- Robert Bradley, brother
- Sia Starholm, girlfriend
- What's your name
- Katja Bradley
- How old are you
- It's rude to ask a woman's age
- What do you look like
- Black braids, black eyes, and with a flair for colourful fasion. Athletic, I guess
- Where were you at the start of the story
- Dealing with nightmares about the dead, after I a month earlier made a deal I didn't understand at the time. Still worth it, though
- What did you want, when the story started
- To further my career, and be happy with my lovely girlfriend Sia
- Who are your parents
- Thomas and Magdalene. Dad's African-American and came to Sweden during the Vietnam war. Mom was a model who turned sewing teacher after she met Dad
- What was your education like
- Fairly standard. Basic years in Hudiksvall, and went to Stockholm to study sewing and patterns. I always knew I wanted to become a fashion designer
- Do you make friends easily
- Oh, yes. Really easily infact. I love meeting new people
- Do you have a best friend
- Not really, though Andrej is a really close friend, and Sia's more than friends, but also a good friend
- Can you get people to do what you want them to? If so, how
- Yes, I have a knack for talking people into things
- Do you have scars? Where did they come from
- None as of yet, but I'm expecting that'll change
- Can you navigate without getting lost? To what degree
- If you put a map in my hand I'll … be sure to be lost
- Can you bake a cake
- Occasionally, but I prefer buying them
- Do you know how to perform basic maintenance on a car
- Very basic, sure
- Is there something you do that most other people don’t
- Sew, I guess. Fight with spears. Ride massive wolves into battle
- What is the most formative moment in your past
- I think, honestly, the fights my parents used to have. Made me quite certain to never tie myself up in a committed relationship
- Do you have any phobias
- Only if you count 'committed relationships'
- What are some of your bad habits
- I snore and pick my teeth
- Do you have a moral code? To what extent are your actions dictated by this code
- I never thought so. Lately, I'm not as sure
*First draft Written during NaNoWriMo November 2014
Friday evening, Katja’s train arrived at Tanum station. Sia met her on the platform, kissing her softly.
“Hey. How’s the dreams?” Her hands slipped around Katja’s neck.
“They’re fine.” Katja shook her head impatiently. “Not sure the same with me, though. I don’t want to think about it. Not right now.”
“We’ll have to foodshop before heading home.” Sia’s hand slid down to rest on Katja’s hip. “Anything you feel like?”
“Something light. Cheese and crackers?” Katja hugged her girlfriend close, kissing her neck teasingly. “Wine. Nakedness.”
“We do have an entire large—and largely unrenovated—farm to ourselves …” Sia chuckled, slipping into the driver seat of her car.
When they reached the farm, a large, wolf-like creature met them. He reached up to Katja’s waist, the head shaggy, in gray and white. Despite the menacing appearance his yellow eyes and the scar over his left eye gave him, he whuffled and nosed at Katja.
“Hey, Gråtass.” She scratched him behind the ears, struck by the bizarre juxtaposition between who he was and who he appeared to be. However, she reflected as she dug her fingers into his grey-and-white fur, if she could find someone to feed her and scratch her, maybe she wouldn’t object either.
You are looking tired. The glint in his yellow eyes matched his gravelly mind-voice and was distinctly wicked. He knew that she knew that he knew why.
“Yes, well, I’ve had a lot to do.” Nope. Not letting an ulv get the better of her.
You know what you need to do. He followed her back to the car as she grabbed the suitcase. She ignored him, refusing to think of the labyrinth and the chainmail hidden deep in her closet.
Sia carried the groceries in ahead of her, and Katja’s mood turned for the better watching her broad hips and the way the skirt accentuated her curves.
“That’s a sight for sore eyes,” she teased, setting the suitcase down in the large farmhouse kitchen.
“What is?” Sia unpacked the cold cuts, letting her hazel gaze run over her domains. The stone floor had several woven carpets, the old stone counters topped with new planks of oak.
“You.” Katja pulled her to her, stroking Sia’s hips from behind. “I miss you.”
“You could move here, you know … It’s not that far to travel, and you aren’t always needed in Stockholm.”
Katja released her, stepping away to busy herself with … something. Anything.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to, though.” Sia bit into her lip, and Katja cursed herself mentally.
“I love you,” she said, not answering either of the questions. “Let’s get dinner going, and then we can sit on your porch with a glass of wine.”