I couldn't feel my feet and I knew that was bad. It could be really bad, like frost bite or something. They had almost no protection from the ankle-deep snow that kept scraping my skin as I trod through the crust. I tried to follow in Frey's exact footsteps but his legs were longer than mine. I had given up trying to communicate. He tended to ignore me when I talked. Firstly because he couldn't understand English, and secondly because he realized by the end of the second day that I wasn't asking him for anything he could give me.

It was dusk but the temperature wasn't too unbearable; there was cloud cover and we were socked in by a dense forest of blue pine trees. They were literally navy blue trees. When I first saw them I thought I was going crazy, like everything finally caught up to me and I was hallucinating. Actually, I still hadn't given up on that theory. Maybe I was crazy.

Frey was carrying the sled, disassembled in his pack. It was too dense with trees to ride and the wolves had disappeared as soon as the sun set, probably to hunt down their dinner. I felt weak with hunger. Or cold. Or exhaustion. I was just about to work up a way to ask Frey if we could stop for the night when we broke through the last of the blue pine trees and found ourselves on the top of a hill overlooking the best thing I'd seen in three days: civilization.

If I wasn't so tired, I would have probably cried from the excitement of the prospect of hot food or a hot shower or the internet. We didn't pause to rest but continued towards the lights. The last leg was the worst I'd had to endure. It took forever to wind down the hill that actually turned out to be a mountain side. It was if the town was a mirage, always just out of reach. An hour must have passed and the clouds cleared to reveal unfamiliar star constellations. Frey seemed to quicken his pace in his own excitement of reaching the end of our solitude. I had a hard time keeping up and I kept slipping and falling on ice and mud. The guy never once turned to help me up. My palms were scraped from catching myself and I was shivering by the time we passed by the first house on the outskirts of the town.

It was whitewashed and had a domed roof like some sort of permanent igloo. The lights in the windows were more than I could handle. I wanted so bad to knock on the door to that house and ask to stay there. I stared hard at the warmth inside each house we passed and began to notice something odd: all the lights were flickering. With a sinking feeling I realized it wasn't electricity. It was good old fashioned fire that was heating and lighting the homes.

I was too cold and tired to ponder that much. I kept putting one foot in front of another. We were walking for the first time not on dirt or snow, but a cobblestone street. It was very clean and it took me a moment to understand why that struck me as odd. It was because I felt like we were in some Dark Age reenactment, but that was supposed to feel really dirty, right? There were no open sewers or animal droppings or soot stains or even litter. All cities had at least a little bit of trash lying around. New York was the worst about that. Trash everywhere. You sort of ignore it, but when it's not there, let me tell you, it's unsettling. Like the town's fake or something. Disneyland-ish.

Every house was the same, too, with the same white paint they must all got a discount on, and the same rounded roofs. Some of the houses had more than one dome, or the domes were different sizes, but they all felt like carbon-copies in some way, with the flickering lights in the windows and the curved silhouette they made against the sky.

Not many people were outside, but those who were, were walking as well, bundled up against the cold. At first glance they looked human, like Frey, with pointy ears. But there was something off about their proportions. Like their arms or necks were too long or something. They eyed me curiously like a new species of animal. I probably looked stumpy in comparison. I found myself shrinking into Frey like a shy kid. He continued to ignore me.

We wound our way through the streets and finally finally finally we stopped in front of a massive multi-domed mansion, one that would put some houses in Aspen to shame.

A woman with black hair burst out of the front door. It sounds strange, but she was one of the most beautiful beings I'd ever seen. She hesitated when she saw me, but recovered quickly. She pulled Frey into a long kiss as I gawked at her, and more people spilled out of the front door into the courtyard, some of which were shorter and thinner than me, but looked like adults.

Three kids, the last one looking like she just barely started walking, pushed their way between Frey and the woman. The oldest, a boy, looked like a copy of his mother with dark hair and eyes, while the younger sisters had bright orange hair that popped violently against the emerald green dresses they wore.

Frey unlatched himself from his family and pulled me towards the house by the back of my arm, and began to explain my presence to them in a voice loud enough for the neighbors to hear. My face flushed with embarrassment. No doubt he was telling them how useless I was at surviving in the wilderness, and how disturbing it was for me to show up in the middle of nowhere. That I was some sort of idiot. I could feel my face burning in the cold. All the females were in dresses, so I probably looked even weirder than I felt in Frey's spare trousers. People with odd elongated proportions who didn't speak my language stared at me like I was an ostrich at the zoo.

Frey finished speaking and pulled me by my arm inside. I wanted to be mad at the elf-guy for putting me on display like that, but inside the door, it smelled like heaven, or at least hot dinner. My skin prickled in the warm air and I tried to see everything at once.

The walls were filled with art; statues, tapestries, paintings from every corner. There were what appeared to be musical instruments I had never seen before hanging on the wall - a mix between a miniature harp and some sort of brass horn. A small young man with a shock of white hair dressed completely in brown was singing quietly as he polished one. He had paused to stare at me when I entered. Frey gently pushed me forward and I realized with a start that I was blocking the door. There was a small crowd standing behind me waiting to go in. I rushed inside, careful not to knock anything over.

The woman with the shiny black hair brushed past me, saying something to the boy what was polishing. Frey pushed me again and I stepped into what looked to be a living room, but had a low stage. We moved through a small but impressive library with huge plush chairs and old scrolls on display in glass cases, and down a set of stairs. The heavenly dinner smell grew stronger until we emerged into a kitchen lit by oil lamps and a fireplace. Just like all the other rooms, the ceiling was domed, giving the impression that the room was expanding upwards.

I felt like I was in some fever dream. I'd sort of felt that way for days. It was unsettling. And just when I was coming to terms with being alone on a planet with an elf-guy and surviving the harsh cold, we had to walk into some sort of weird fantasy town I could almost, but not quite recognize.

A cook and three more white-haired servants (I was just guessing that's what they were) all dressed in brown were setting a table with plates of food. Frey and his family sat down, the two older kids at the talking loudly at him at the same time as he shoveled food onto his plate. The woman sat opposite Frey and watched him with doe eyes, chin resting in her hands, elbows on the table, food untouched.

I stood unsure of myself, forgotten, until one servant, after getting over the shock of me, spoke matter-of-factly, and ushered me over to a place a few seats down from the family, as if I was not invited to be near them, and handed me a shiny wooden spoon with an ornately carved handle. I peered into the closest dish, a deep pot, and found what looked like rice and vegetables. The steam brushed my face and my stomach growled loudly.

She continued to talk at me as I heaped food onto my plate, and her voice did make me feel a little better. I was getting used to not being able to speak to anyone. Awkward silences were what I had to offer until I learned the language enough to figure out how to tell people I belonged on either Asgard or Earth.

They let the baby totter around on uncertain feet, occasionally plopping down to pick something up between two curious fingers and taste. She was quietly content on her own. Her mother didn't seem concerned and the servants and cook stepped around the baby expertly.

It was hot real food for the first time in forever. I tried to eat slowly, but I found my plate empty before they had finished half of theirs. I didn't hesitate to refill. Somehow the second plate was better than the first and I began to worry I would need thirds. Just the feeling of hot food in my mouth was a huge relief, let alone the feeling of my stomach expanding.

I felt tiny fingers grip my legs. The baby girl stared up at me with wide blue eyes from under the table, a halo of orange hair framing her face. I couldn't help but smile at her. She watched me, unblinking then moved, hand over hand, to the side of my chair and held chubby arms up to me as if she wanted me to life her into my lap. I glanced at the woman, who was now holding hands across the table with Frey.

I bent, wrapping my hands around her soft middle and lifted her. She put her her arms around my neck, resting her cheek on shoulder. Her soft warmth filled my heart almost as much as dinner had. With each little breath on my neck I felt something grow. A glimmer of hope trickled in and then expanded, encapsulating my vision of the future so that everything seemed like it would be ok. It was the first time I realized that I could do it. Be a mother. This wasn't so bad, holding a baby. It was actually really nice to have a little person who seemed to like me for no reason. I could do this. My vision swam as and I looked down at the top of her unruly vibrant orange hair.


I melted into the hot water, relaxing for the first time in days. My eyes closed, blocking out the marble stone work of the tub and backsplash that climbed up the three encompassing walls, up to the high domed ceiling tiled with more stone. There was a drain and a faucet. Under normal circumstances this would be expected. But I was on another planet. A planet where technology seemed to be hit or miss.

Across the small square bathroom, a hand-stitched light blue nightgown was draped elegantly over a decorative chair. My clothes — actually the elf guy's spare trousers and shirt — had been confiscated quickly and probably burned as a hazardous material. I'd been sitting, sleeping, hiking in them for three cold, anxious days and they weren't even clean when Frey loaned them to me. I didn't know where my actual clothes had ended up. Now that I thought about it I really wanted them back. I'd have to ask for them in the morning.

My body was thawing out, my toes were like prunes, but the wrong shade of yellow. My legs were unshaven and woefully un-muscular looking. I should have dancer legs. I lamented this fact every time I caught myself looking. And of course my belly. It was a modest round, warm place no bigger than a meal-sized bloat. But I wasn't used to seeing the shape, the soft curve instead of a flat stomach I worked so hard for. And it would only be getting bigger. I sunk under the hot water, plugging my nose. My ears filled with exaggerated silence and the distant rumble of my heartbeat pulsed in my ears.

The comfort of a home, as alien as this one was, unwound my anxiety like a ball of yarn. I felt that, as soon as I had a full night's rest in a real live bed, under a roof, I would be able to figure this all out. I could find a way to either get to Asgard or Earth. I had to. There was no way I was staying here with the strange elongated elf-people and their domed houses. The hope that had blossomed in my chest had expanded and filled me with peace.

So much peace that I fell asleep in the tub. I jolted awake in lukewarm water. I forced myself to stand up, dry off and dress in the borrowed nightgown. I blew out the candle, nearly at the end of the wick, wrapped the towel around my head and crawled in between the cool sheets of the bed.

I woke up breathless, after what seemed like a few hours. The covers of the bed pressed down on me like a bad premonition. I swung my feet to the cool floor, feeling goosebumps travel up my legs. I hadn't been dreaming recently, or at least not that I could remember. And then here on this wrong planet, I had the most lucid dream I could remember having.

I had been with Anouk in Aspen, in the dream. The Aspen I used to know before Amora destroyed it. We rode the gondola to the top of Aspen Mountain and sat on the deck of the lodge, peering out over the valley and grassy mountains. Ravens kept flying in, landing on our table, dropping small things for us, pinecones, rocks, leaves, until a pile grew, covering the top of our table. The birds wouldn't stop coming and we had to fight them off. Finally two ravens brought a skull between them, gap-eyed and grimacing. And I knew, somehow, in the dark way that dreams work, that it was Steve's.

After a moment in the quiet dark, I stood, unable to be still any longer. I paced to the window to look out. It was just a dream, I knew, and I tried hard to shake it off, but I couldn't help feeling that I had left Steve on Earth, that years had passed while I was on this planet, and that he was dead and that I would be stuck here, alone forever. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I couldn't see outside. The world was too black. In a burst of agitation, I strode to the massive and thick bedroom door, and turned the handle. I pushed it hard, expecting it to be heavy. I miss judged and in a moment I realized I had pushed too hard. The door hit something solid before it was halfway open.

The something grunted and knocked a metal cylinder statue over. The art crashed to the floor with a clatter and rolled to the wall beyond, pinging off and rolling down the hall with a dissonant ringing noise.

My heart was beating out of my chest, and my fingers tingled. After a moment, I peeked around the corner of the door and found heap of a man crumpled on the ground, the side of his face mashed inward. Blood leaked under my door, black in the dim light.

Before I could scream, before I could even process anything, another figure hurtled out of the shadows. I reacted automatically, grabbing the closest thing I could, a heavy ceramic statue in the shape of a wolf, and swinging with all my might. It hit solidly. A second later, light and pain erupted from my face. I staggered back into the wall and I felt a strong hand pin me.

I immediately clasped a around the wrist, twisted the arm away, and rolled to the side just as the wall behind exploded. I blindly swung my wolf again and was rewarded with a grunt of pain. I kicked a knee sideways, and in one more enormous effort, brought the wolf down on the top of a skull.

Light reached my eyes before I could hear anything over the sound of my breathing. I don't know how long I stood there. Seconds? Minutes? I couldn't take my eyes off the unconscious person at my feet. I had done that. The light flickered - a fire - candle. It wavered before my face and I saw the wax drip onto the fingers that held it.

I felt a grip on my shoulder and I swung my weapon again.

A yell of surprise, and then I was disarmed and strong hands pulled at me. I knew I wasn't thinking right. I couldn't focus. The hands touched my face and I found myself looking into Frey's eyes. They were steely and I felt my confusion ebb away as I heard his voice.

I swallowed. My mouth was dry. I blinked and took a deep breath. I nodded, looking at Frey fully conscious again. He gripped me a second longer and then, deciding that I had returned to myself, he let go of my face and my arm.

He began questioning me in a tone that demanded an answer. I knew vaguely what he wanted, but didn't know the answer. I shook my head no, looking around at the scene I had created. I didn't know what happened, who they were or how I had done that. Someone had lit the candles on the walls to drive the darkness out. Two men lay at my feet, blood spilling from both onto the tiles of the floor. I had done that.

How had I done that?

Frey was talking again as he rolled the men over, checked their faces, put a finger on their necks for a pulse. Another figure stepped around Frey: his wife, her shiny black hair reflecting the candlelight softly. She picked her way carefully around the puddles. I felt an enormous weight squeezing my chest and I could hardly look at her and she came close to me. And then she was pulling me into her, hugging me. I couldn't get my arms to respond, but I did feel something break inside, and I began to cry into her shoulder.

She let go and pulled me so gently away from the scene that I hardly felt I was moving until my bare feet slipped in the blood. She caught me, spoke to me softly as if I were a horse she was trying to calm. I followed like a horse, unable to stop my tears. Through my blurred vision I saw the her son standing in his the doorway to his bedroom watching us with guarded eyes.

The entire household had woken up, and three male servants stood at the end of the hallway watching us apprehensively. Frey's wife spoke to them. One brushed past us, moving towards the scene, the two others nodded curtly and left us at a jog. She led us into a bathroom adjacent to her and Frey's bedroom, and sat me down on a stool with a rag.

I wiped my nose and started to feel foolish for crying like a child in front of her. I feebly commanded myself to get it together. I rubbed at my eyes but stopped with a gasp when I felt the sharp pain from my cheekbone. A massive headache washed over me. She squatted in front of me and took the rag out of my hands.

While she cleaned my face and my hands and my feet, she kept up the chatter. I watched her move from the sink and back, watched the pink water as it dripped off the rag. My heart began to calm and everything slowly came back into focus. My mind caught up with reality.

I had never fought anyone like that before. And won. I had never thought I'd be strong enough to do that to someone. Two people. I had taken out two men. By myself. Steve had spent a bit of time trying to instill in me some self-defense skills, but that felt like years ago. That had been right before...Aspen. I remembered that one good moment before it all crashed down on me. The moment I had taken what Steve had taught me and applied it to a mock situation and won. The moment I didn't have a panic attack when he was coming after me in the gym. The moment I had listened to my instincts and they didn't betray me.

Frey stuck his head into the bathroom and said something to his wife. Her hand went to her mouth and she stared at him. Frey reached out and touched her cheek and then looked at me for a long moment. He stepped into the small room and knelt down in front of me. I looked into his face and saw something completely new, something I didn't recognized. It was not his usual annoyance or curiosity or disappointment. He smiled shyly, his eyes were soft, and his cheeks flushed. He pulled my hand from my lap and slipped a metal ring off his middle finger and onto my thumb. He looked me in the eyes with...respect. He kissed my hand and said the same short word three times.

My mind reeled. He was thanking me. Frey was thanking me for what I did. I had never once before been the hero. I felt my face flush with embarrassment and pride and shy smile found it's way to my lips.