Page 2 of It’s A Little Bit Bunny (Fangs on Ice #4)

One

Nikolai

I took it as a personal offence that fresh air and exercise actually helped with my depression.

My therapist had suggested forest walks, and I hated hated hated that they made me feel better.

The audacity!

I caught myself scowling at the forest as if I had beef with every single fir and laughed uncomfortably.

Someone explain to me how I got lost in a damned granite labyrinth in the middle of Germany, and how the fuck I ended up on this lonely forest path?

You are fucking useless, Nik. You can’t even go on a walk in nature without messing things up.

I huffed derisively at myself again.

Come on, Lorenz. Get a grip on yourself. One minor inconvenience and you’re being a whiny bitch again. Stop it.

It was about time I got better, too.

My brain has been in a weird place for the last couple of months. My life grew darker and darker until the Big Sad drowned out every good thing in my life.

When not even the dogs I occasionally ran into on my way to the rink could lift my mood anymore, I knew I needed help.

Like any good hockey player, I’d told my coach, and he had answered.

Jerke had stared at me impassively for a long moment, then the man went into emergency mode.

Within a few minutes, he had arranged an appointment at a local hospital. He took me off game duty but still wanted me to be there for training.

“Physical exercise is the most important thing you can do when you are depressed. And we have to maintain your routine, son. We’re in this together.” He had gripped my shoulder and squeezed it. “We need you, Nikolai.” Not ‘Lorenz’ like he usually called me.

Nikolai. Son.

Before I had gone to see him, I wasn’t sure if it was the right move. But my gruff coach acting as if my mental health was the most important thing to him already made me feel marginally better.

The hospital set me up with a neuropsychiatrist: Doktor Theodor Schmidt.

A low snort escaped me. I’d expected an older man, maybe tall, lean, and with white hair. Instead, Schmidt turned out to be a Badger hybrid with a colourful mohawk and eighteen visible piercings who wore round glasses.

Not my type, but pretty cute.

Halfway into our first session he scheduled me in for more tests and gave me a piece of paper filled with tree outlines.

“What’s that? Colouring in for adults?”

He grinned at me and nodded.

He gave me an outdoor challenge. I despised him—only a little—for guessing that gamification was the way to motivate me to do almost anything.

Except for guitar lessons. My mother had tried to get me to play. But hockey had always won. The sound and feel of the ice under my blades, my team, the fans, the happiness that came with the sport… Hockey was my first love.

I stomped down the forest trail as if it had personally wronged me. It felt like the entire world hated me which probably explained the extent of my mindfuck.

You’re suicidal, Nik, admit it.

But three weeks into their emergency plan I was sure that wasn’t the case. I didn’t want to die. I just needed help to get out of that dark place.

I wanted to get back on the team as soon as possible, so I vowed to be the best depressed person ever. I’d win this fucking challenge and excel at therapy. Schmidt would have no other choice but to give me the all-clear soon.

Jerke still expected me at practice so at least I got a bit of a hockey fix.

Fuck, I miss competing.

I was there at every game they played in Veitsreuth. Watching from the stands hurt like crazy, and watching them on TV was even worse. I hated having to sit alone in my tiny flat with a bottle of water and a healthy snack and watch the rare moments when Arne’s calm held back the team. He hardly ever got penalties and liked his game clean. Bo and I? We fought dirty when we had to. They needed me.

Focus on your challenge. You’ll be back on the ice in no time.

After my appointment, I’d pinned the piece of paper from Dr Schmidt to my fridge and bought a packet of coloured pencils so I could colour in the leaves as I completed them. At the same time, I’d picked up one of these colouring books for adults, too.

I’ll be so fucking zen in no time.

Then I’d sat down at my laptop and did a search on KrakenMaps. I’d flagged everything that looked remotely interesting, which was about everywhere in the Fichtel Mountains.

Every weekend, I’d vowed, I would go on an adventure. No matter how shitty I was feeling, or how tempting holing up in my apartment on the edge of Veitsreuth’s court garden sounded, I would go.

Today was my first outing. I’d picked the granite labyrinth, which, in all honesty, didn’t live up to its name.

Unless you’re smaller than a fox, I suppose.

I walked around, following the path. The walls were so low, I could see the middle of the labyrinth. But I still had to walk through it to get there. I was a little offended that I found a parallel between this place and my life.

I could sort of see the goal but insignificant obstacles stood between me and my happiness. Like me feeling like a burden to everyone around me, and the loneliness that plagued me. Feeling lonely in a rink full of thousands of people and as a member of an amazing hockey team was one of the shittiest things I had experienced in my life.

I still nurtured the childish hope that I would find something in these woods, perhaps even myself.

Again, I stopped and turned on the spot. There were no markers on the trees that indicated a path I could follow, no signs pointing back to the labyrinth, the car park, a village... anything .

I had spaced out only for a moment as I entered the forest behind the granite blocks and somehow found myself on this lonely path.

That was over an hour ago.

And what had begun as a pretty Saturday afternoon had turned dark and gloomy.

There’s a storm brewing.

I needed to find my way back, and fast. If growing up near the Alps had taught me anything, it was that you didn’t want to be outside on a mountain range in a storm.

Yet, even turning around immediately hadn’t helped. I must have zoned out for longer than I realised and somehow lost my way.

Perhaps I can find shelter.

The state usually built huts in the forest so people could seek shelter in storms. I wasn’t too worried about freezing. It was May, and as a professional athlete, I should have enough strength to survive one night outdoors.

On autopilot, I checked my phone.

Wasn’t it Einstein who said that doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results was the definition of insanity?

I huffed at myself. For the last hour, I had gotten no signal. It was as if this neck of the woods didn’t exist.

Damn. What if I had had an accident, and this was a figment of my imagination?

I stopped and crouched down in the middle of the path to give myself some space to think. My water bottle was empty, and I had no food on me. The latter didn’t worry me, but I should try to find a water source.

Straightening, I peered up at the skies. Dark grey clouds hung like a heavy blanket over the forest.

And I better find it and shelter fast before darkness falls and all hell breaks loose.