Page 2 of A Bear Ski Instructor Christmas (Holiday Shifters of Frost Mountain)
Present Day
Rudolph the Stalker Reindeer
“I said, stay back !” Rachel snapped, waving a stick in front of her. “Why are you following me?”
Standing less than thirty feet away at the edge of the woods, the reindeer did not respond. It simply stared back at her, its ear twitching a little. Its flank was covered in flecks of snow, and Rachel was pretty sure ice was forming on the creature’s antlers, but it didn’t seem the least bit bothered, not by the snow, not by the cold, and certainly not by her empty threats.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Rudolph,” she growled. “I’ve got a stick, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
Still no response. Rachel imagined that if reindeer could speak, this one would be laughing at her right now. The stick she’d snagged off a tree branch in the woods was short and crooked, incapable of inflicting much damage.
If truth be told, she hadn’t ever seen an actual reindeer before. Like most people, she connected them with Christmas, like Santa’s elves and the North Pole. The fact that there was a live one barely thirty feet away from her was something she’d definitely bring up during her next session with Diane, assuming she made it out of there in one piece.
She’d been trudging down the mountain through the dense, snow-shrouded woods, wondering how much farther until she reached the bottom when the creature stepped out from behind a tree and began following her. The reindeer had tailed her out of the woods and onto the wide, snowy path that stretched between the trees like a bumpy, sloping highway. Even out here in the open, Rachel couldn’t help being creeped out.
But she couldn’t let the reindeer know how unsettled she was. If there was anything she’d learned over the decades, it was to face adversity head-on. You’re a fierce young woman, Diane used to tell her. You don’t cower in the face of problems. You fight them head-on. That’s an impressive quality.
She wasn’t about to cower. Her best chance was scaring the animal off.
At least her opponent wasn’t a polar bear or something. If that had been the case, she would be roadkill by now. Still, the sight of the reindeer sent a chill to the base of her spine. Why the hell was it just watching her?
“Look,” she called, feeling fairly foolish at the realization that she was talking to an animal, “I’ve had a pretty rough couple of days, okay? I don’t need you to make things worse for me right now.”
How long had it been exactly? Two days? Something like that. Two days since she opened her eyes to see Flight 18 come apart, sending several of its passengers to their deaths. Two days since, the parts of the plane that had remained intact crash-landed, not in a city in Nebraska but on a massive, snow-covered mountain. Two days since she climbed out of the wreckage, surrounded mostly by dead or unconscious passengers, and began traveling downhill, desperate for the one thing that mattered most to her now: her survival.
The wind whistled gently in her ears, and she shuddered against the sudden gust, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her.
Crap, she thought.
Her stomach growled just then, reminding her that she hadn’t had anything to eat yet except for some berries she’d yanked off a bush this morning. They were clearly low in calories, which would’ve been great if she was back in Vegas, keeping her body in shape for her next runway event.
Only this wasn’t Vegas. On this mountain, in this darned weather, she needed all the calories she could get if she wanted to live.
Double crap.
The reindeer’s ear twitched again, drawing her attention. She could definitely use some protein, but that meant killing the creature, and Rachel wasn’t about to approach the damn thing with a tree branch, much less try to take its life. As if.
And even if she did manage to find something to eat, what were the odds that she’d survive out here? This place…something about it filled Rachel with discomfort, and it wasn’t just the fact that she was surrounded by snow. That was a huge problem, though, and it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet. When she’d left Las Vegas, there had been no signs or reports of snowy weather, yet it looked like it had been snowing for years here.
And where the heck had this mountain come from, anyway? Hadn’t they been flying over Nebraska when she’d fallen asleep? How had the plane managed to crash-land on a mountain that looked like it could give Everest a run for its money?
Maybe the crash had caused her to hit her head. She must’ve hit it hard because she’d completely lost track of time and was now imagining things. Or maybe her instincts were right, and there was something very, very wrong about this place.
She’d been traveling for two days now, headed downhill in hopes of finding some town at the bottom and getting help from the locals. With any luck, they’d be able to come back up and find any other survivors on the mountain before they froze or starved to death. But no matter how much farther down Rachel traveled, she never seemed to be getting closer to the bottom. She couldn’t even see anything that looked remotely like it.
Just how massive was this mountain exactly? She glanced around. For miles, all she could see was snow, trees, and jutting rocks, and all she could hear was the sound of a river rushing nearby. There were no other people, no houses, no signs of civilization.
But she couldn’t possibly be the only living person on the mountain. If she’d survived, someone else must have as well. Not to mention, there could be other people living on this freezing rock. Rachel wouldn’t put it past a couple of wackos to retire from the city and try to start a new life out here in the cold.
And where was she exactly? It didn’t look like anywhere in the United States, nowhere she’d been, at least. A snow-covered mountain this massive would have been registered on a map.
She lifted her gaze to the sky. By now, emergency services should have shown up, but there were no helicopters overhead and not a single sign of human civilization.
Rachel swallowed, a deep sense of loneliness descending upon her. Out here in the cold, with nothing but a jacket to protect her, her chances of survival were slim, slim enough to appear on a runway in Vegas. If the crash hadn’t killed her, something else on this mountain—the cold or a wild animal—would before she managed to get to the bottom.
With a shudder, she looked back at the reindeer, which was standing almost completely motionless, staring back at her from the edge of the woods. Rachel knew it wasn’t going away anytime soon, and if she moved, it would simply follow. From what Rachel knew, deer weren’t exactly carnivorous, but that didn’t make Rudolph here any less creepy.
Unwilling to let herself be completely overcome by fear, she waved the stick one last time. When it didn’t work, she dropped it and scooped up a handful of snow, shaping it into a ball.
“Wanna play dodgeball, Rudolph? She hated that the name kept springing to her lips. Somehow, it reminded her of Santa, which reminded her of Christmas. Between that and all the snow around, Rachel couldn’t help wondering if she couldn’t wake herself up with a pinch on the arm.
She lobbed the snowball at the reindeer.
It landed ten feet away from it.
The reindeer simply stared back at her.
Rachel cursed under her breath. This had to work. She needed to scare off the damn creature. It was freezing out here. The more time she spent standing in one place, the more likely she was to become the first popsicle in elf history. But if this creature kept following her, she was never going to make it anywhere.
Within seconds, she had another snowball in her hands. “I’m warning you…”
When the reindeer didn’t respond, she pulled her arm back and hurled the projectile as far as she could. The snowball sailed through the air and met its mark, crumbling against the deer’s nose.
The creature immediately backed into the woods, out of sight.
Rachel released a breath she’d been holding.
Finally.
Another rumble filled her stomach, and a light wave of nausea swept over her. She turned her gaze downhill. It was a long way to the bottom. How far exactly, she still had no idea. But she had to keep moving and find something to eat before her body gave up on her. Three pressing needs filled her mind, each as urgent as the next: food, shelter, warmth.
“I’m going to die out here,” Rachel muttered. “And Sam’s gonna inherit my Gucci skirts."
Hopefully, she’d stumble on a stream or something on the way down. The snowy path with frost-covered trees on both sides stretched farther than the eye could see, es. Aside from a few bumps here and there, the path seemed pretty smooth. Safe enough to drive through, perhaps.
Or ski.
Come to think of it, where had these marks in the snow come from? It had to be—
Her thoughts were cut short by a piercing scream that echoed across the mountain and seemed to surround her. Rachel turned slowly and froze.
“What in the world…?”
At first, all she registered was a black dot, a speck in the distance, making its way down the mountain. The figure drew closer, growing larger in her line of vision and it was moving quickly, snow billowing in its wake as it hurtled down the mountain.
Another shriek cut through the air, and the hairs on the back of Rachel’s neck rose to attention. As the hurtling figure headed straight for her, she could make out a pair of arms and broad shoulders and the distinct shape of a man’s head.
“Get out of the way!” he screamed.