Male yeti-shifter x reader - Part One (sfw)
This story was shared exclusively on Patreon as part of my ‘Twelve Days of Exo-mas” extravaganza, where I shared a story a day for twelve days during the festive season. An anon asked if I had any yeti stories, and I asked my lovely former patreon supporters (it’s now closed but we still hang out on our Discord), if they’d be ok with me posting it, and unanimously they said go for it!
Contents: single dad yeti-shifter with a son who’s initially a bit hostile to the reader, getting lost in the snowy woods, sprained ankle Words: 6243
Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere.
This hasn’t been edited or changed since Patreon
“Come to Snowy Starfall Springs, they said. Live out the fairytale Winter Wonderland dream, they said,” you spat as you waded through knee-deep snow, way off the trail, lost, freezing your backside off, and with the daylight hours slowly burning out. “Fuck.”
The eerie stillness of the woods didn’t help either.
Short, stocky, slow-growing pines, their branches laden with snow, stood sentry against the approaching night, and the old, softened tracks of either a cervitaur or an actual deer were the only sign that anything else aside from you was even alive out here. You might not be for much longer unless you found that trail and headed back, but you couldn’t be that far from where you’d gone wrong.
You had driven three hours out of Starfall Springs into the Starfall Mountains, parked up at the trail head, donned your awkward snow-shoes, and plunged eagerly into the wilderness that morning. You’d only intended for this to be a four hour hike, but instead you’d missed a turning somewhere, and had ended up somewhere off the usual trails, in the arse end of Winter Wonderland. “Happy Solstice, eh?” you chided yourself.
You’d just stopped and resigned yourself to digging around in your pack for your phone and compass - having been assured that the trail would be easy enough to follow in a nice loop from the car park - when up ahead, the stillness broke as something shifted between the trees, and you froze. These parts weren’t known for harbouring particularly dangerous wildlife, but there were packs of wolves, and even feral werewolves if the stories were true, and you were easy picking like this. Tiredness seeped into your muscles along with the cold, and you flexed your fingers, frozen on the point of sloughing off your backpack.
To your utter astonishment, a young child appeared between the snowy pines. Unlike you, he was not really dressed for the cold, wearing only a sweater and scruffy jeans. He stopped, stared straight at you, and then laughed. It wasn’t a particularly kind laugh either.
“Shit,” you hissed, watching your breath fog across your vision for a moment. Your eyelashes were frozen, creating a thick border of white around your vision because you’d neglected to bring your goggles too.
The child bent and swept their hand through the snow in a rapid arc, sending a wide spray of powder glittering through the air, and amid the flurry, they turned and ran.
“Wait!” you yelled after them. “Wait! Is there a shelter around here?” As if you had no more sense than a jackrabbit, you plunged through the trees after him, immediately tripping on the toe of your snow shoe and pitching into a deep bank of snow, face first.
His hair had been a white blond, and his skin a warm, rosy brown, and somehow he looked like he belonged here among the sleeping pines and wild, endless skies. You, meanwhile, were making more noise than a bear in a city trashcan.
Around your fresh mouthful of snow, you cursed and rolled upright. It wasn’t easy to do, but you’d fallen over enough times on your way out from the trail head to learn how to pick yourself up. Faceplant, roll onto your front, rock up onto your knees, windmill your arms a bit, stand up. Rinse and repeat.
As you straightened again, you heard the boy’s laughter and froze. “Hello?”
It seemed to come from one direction and then, a moment later, from another.
“Fuck’s sake,” you muttered bitterly to yourself. “Listen, I got turned around and I could use your help. I’m going to freeze my butt off if I stay out here tonight. Can you help me or not?”
Empty childish laughter was your only response.
Sucking in a deeper breath - cautiously because if you breathed too deeply and too quickly you’d start coughing with the cold - you headed in the direction you’d last seen the boy prancing through the snow like a Solstice reindeer. How did he move like that? Could he be a fae? At that point you were almost ready to sell your left kidney for a safe place to spend the night, but as the thought crossed your mind you realised that maybe you were more desperate than you should be. You still had perhaps an hour left of daylight, and you had a compass and a detailed map in your bag.
Out of nowhere, a deep, bellowing roar split the silence, crystalline fragments of winter peace shattering as your ears rang and you stumbled, catching the front of your snow-shoe again. You went down hard with a grunted ‘oof’ and felt your ankle go. It didn’t snap, thank all the gods, but you’d sprained it before and remembered the shock and the sudden rush of heat. You couldn’t have helped the yell that left your lips as you went down even if your soul (or your left kidney) had depended on it.
Defeated, frustrated, and in a fair bit of pain, you just lay there, face down in the snow for a minute. Perhaps the bear - if it had indeed been a bear - wouldn’t notice you if you just lay there.
Heavy footfalls reached you not long after, the snow squeaking slightly as it was compressed beneath large feet.
Shit.
Summoning the strength to turn your head, you looked and found two enormous, fluffy white hind paws, tipped with thick, four-inch long, jet black claws standing right beside you. You didn’t think that polar bears lived in these parts, but by this point, your exhaustion ran bone-deep, your muscles were shaky and cramping with the creeping cold, and your reserves of courage had just run completely dry. And with that, you went limp.
The creature knelt beside you and turned you over, chuffing softly like a tiger and gripping your backpack as if it were the scruff of your neck. Your stomach swooped, and when you opened your eyes, you saw that you were five feet off the ground, in the claws of a creature you’d thought only existed in ancient fairy tales.
A yeti had you in its claws.
Stars danced in your vision and you went limp before you could process much more than the dull, deep growl that reverberated around pronounced canines and black lips.
Warmth washed through you and you wriggled gently before a flash of sharp pain shot up your leg and you stopped moving immediately. At the sound of your shuffling, something sat up straight beside you and you blinked again, trying to clear your vision a bit.
Covered by a soft, woollen rug, you were lying on a sofa in a wooden cabin, with an iron, wood-burning stove blazing away at one end of the modest space, and with vibrantly coloured rugs and throws decorating the floor and couch. Everything had a handmade look to it, including the house itself right down to the cement used to seal the gaps between the rounded logs of the cabin walls and the rustic wooden handles on the doors.
In a chair near you sat possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen in your whole life, and the first words out of your mouth when you spotted him were, embarrassingly, “Am I dead?”
He laughed joyously, his ice-blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His skin was a warm, rich tanned brown, his eyebrows steel grey, and his long, thick, wiry white hair tied back off his ruggedly chiselled face in a half-ponytail. He looked to be at some intangible age between thirty and forty, with laughter lines around his eyes and one or two between his brows. His lips were full and looked infinitely kissable, slightly chapped, and he had a thick, pale scar on his chin that stretched up his neck, over his jawline to his lower lip that just invited you to press your fingers to it and draw him closer for a kiss. Naturally, you did none of that, and just stared at him like a thunderstruck imbecile.
“You’re not dead,” he chuckled, and you immediately felt hot all over, under your skin. He had a beautiful, rich, deep, lyrical voice with a lilting, thick accent. “But you did twist your ankle pretty good. How do you feel?”
As you blinked again, you realised that it was dark outside and that the curtains had been drawn against the night. You shifted again, trying to sit upright, and you realised that your foot was cold. Staring down at it, you discovered that he’d strapped a plastic ice block to it, wrapped in a tea-towel. “Where am I?” you asked groggily. “What happened?” and then you added, “That kid… there was a boy out there…?”
“You mean that one?” the man asked gruffly, scowling and jutting his chin over his shoulder at a wild-looking boy standing at the other end of the cabin. He was resting his lean, wiry frame against the doorway to what looked like a kitchen area, though it was hard to see in the low lamplight. The kid, perhaps nine or ten, flashed you a wickedly sharp smile and disappeared into the other room.
“Yeah,” you said lamely. “He’s yours?”
“Yup,” he said, standing up and looming over you for a moment before backing off, mostly so you didn't have to crick your neck to look at him.
He was wearing a creamy, cable-knit jumper with an intricate pattern on, and pale scruffy jeans with a rip in the knee. Where he was tall he was also broad-shouldered, though there was a softness to his torso that spoke of a different kind of strength from movie stars and body builders. He was the kind of man who could lift a tree trunk without much difficulty, but probably couldn’t sprint for long without getting winded.
“Who are you?” you asked as he turned away and reached for a mug on a nearby table. It looked unusual and you realised a second later that it was carved from wood. Something in the back of your head said, with the voice of your late grandmother, that it was called a ‘kuksa’ by folks in these parts.
“Oh,” he said, pausing and glancing back at you over his shoulder. His hair was thick and coarse looking, hanging just down to his shoulder blades but you still felt the inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it. You frowned, wondering whether he’d slipped you something while you’d been unconscious. “I’m Arttu,” he said, drawing out the consonants in a way that made your mouth go a bit dry. His eyes were so blue that they were almost beyond comprehension. You’d never seen anyone with eyes that colour. “Here,” he added, moving back to you and holding out the kuksa.
You made no move to take it from him, no matter how rough and big and inviting his hands looked. “What is it?” you asked.
“Water,” he grinned. “You’re safe here, I promise.”
“You can’t blame me for being wary,” you grumbled, sitting up awkwardly and reaching for the cup. “Passing out in the claws of a yeti and waking up in the cabin of some supernaturally handsome guy…”
Arttu nearly dropped the kuksa as he handed it to you, but he laughed almost shyly at your words. “Well,” he said, oddly flustered and with his cheeks slightly flushed. From the other room, the boy yelled something in a language you didn’t speak or recognise, and Arttu replied more softly in the same.
You tried not to make an indecent noise at the sound of his voice, and looked away. You took in the way your foot was propped up on a cushion and, for the first time, noticed that your very unflattering snow-suit was nowhere to be seen.
When you looked back up at him, Arttu was licking his lips nervously and had stepped back even further. You drank and then set the kuksa on a nearby hand-made, pine coffee table. “I mean it,” he said in a soft, earnest voice. “You’re safe here. Are you hungry?”
For you? “Uh, yeah?” you said, suddenly realising how long it had been since breakfast as your stomach clenched almost painfully.
His lips twitched and he nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
You gazed around at the homely little space while he disappeared into the kitchen and proceeded to have a hushed and rather intense conversation with the boy in that strange language. There were little carved animals here and there, mostly reindeer, though there were one or two others tucked away on shelves and in nooks and crannies. The room was so quaint and so homely that you almost relaxed, until you realised that you had no idea what had happened to your backpack - which had your phone and a load of other important stuff in it - nor your snow-suit, nor your snow shoes. Nor did you know exactly where you were.
Removing the icepack from your ankle and rolling it experimentally, you found that the swelling wasn’t that bad, and that it was probably just a little twist; still painful, but nothing lasting. Easing yourself off the sofa, you padded awkwardly across the bare floorboards, heading towards the door.
“Where are you going?” a sharp, boyish voice barked from the doorway. His words were even more heavily accented than his father’s had been, and he had a nasty, feral snarl to his voice as he stared you down.
“I’m looking for my backpack,” you said flatly, trying to show him that you were unimpressed by his aggressive attempt at bravado. “You wouldn’t happen to know where it is, would you?”
“Maybe?” he said in an annoyingly sing-song voice and smiling innocently.
You fought the urge to curl your lip up at him and took a deep breath, letting it go slowly.
Before you could ask him for it again, his father emerged from the kitchen and lightly cuffed him up the backside of his head and growled something at him which made him disappear back into the kitchen.
“You probably shouldn’t be walking on that foot just yet,” he said kindly. “Your pack is there though,” he added, pointing at the little porch where your bag was indeed hanging off a handmade birch wood peg, along with your snow shoes and your snow-suit. He’d rolled the sleeves of his jumper up to his elbows, revealing thick, muscular forearms and you nearly didn’t hear what he said because you were so distracted by them.
“Thank you,” you finally croaked. “It’s got my phone in. Don’t suppose you’ve got a charger here, have you?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. We have no electricity.”
“Oh,” you chirped, surprised. “That’s fine. It should have a bit of juice in it still anyway. Not that there’ll be any signal though…”
Arttu looked at you like you’d sprouted a second head.
“What?” you asked with a slight chuckle.
“I… Never mind. Take it easy, ok? I’ll have some dinner ready in fifteen minutes or so. I hope you’re not vegetarian… And you should drink some water. You were out there a long time, according to Riuka.”
“Riuka?”
“My son,” he said, twitching his chin back towards the kitchen.
“Yeah, the -” you cut off just before you said ‘the little brat’, coughed, and said, “The little tyke was running around in the trees ahead of me for quite some time. I thought he was a fae or some wood spirit…”
Something complicated passed over Arttu’s face for a moment, and his great shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry,” he said. “As you can tell, we don’t… we don’t see too many people out this way… He’s… grown up pretty isolated…”
You sighed, softening a little yourself at the thought of Arttu trying to raise a kid out here in the wilderness on his own. “It’s just you two?”
He nodded. “Yeah. His mother died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” you said automatically, though you did mean it.
Arttu twitched another half-smile at you and excused himself back to the kitchen.
You grabbed your pack and hobbled back over to the sofa. Your phone miraculously had some charge, and so did your insulated battery pack, so you weren’t too worried. The fact that you had almost literally no one to tell where you were was a bit sobering, but by some further miracle, you did have some signal, and you shot a quick text to a friend back in Old Trollbridge.
‘Hey,’ you began, feeling a bit weird. ‘I know I haven’t messaged in a while, but I’m in the woods a few hours outside of Starfall Springs,’ and you added your coordinates according to your phone’s map. ‘I’m ok, but I hurt my ankle a bit. Luckily (?) this gorgeous wildman with a brat of a son found me and I’m staying the night. Just thought I should let someone know where I am… I’ll keep you posted? Hope you’re well…’
You didn’t get an immediate reply, and in the silence that stretched above the crackling of the logs in the burner, you thought about how you’d let your friendships drop over the last six months. You’d moved away from Old Trollbridge for a new job, and everyone else seemed to have just got on with life as if you’d never been there at all. It stung to say the least. No one had phoned or really messaged to find out how you were doing. Photos on social media piled up week after week of them doing things together, and you seemed to be little more than a fading memory to them. The thought that maybe you could just dissolve into the winter whiteness like another snowflake in a wild flurry out here crossed your mind, and you looked up to find Riuka staring at you again from the doorway.
His irises were a wild, arctic blue, in sharp contrast to the cinnamon brown of his skin and ice blond hair. He carried the promise of his father’s breadth in his young shoulders, but there was a snowy delicacy to his features that hinted at his mother’s genes.
“What’s up?” you asked.
He scowled at you. “You smell strange…”
You barked a laugh at that. “It’s been a while since I’ve taken a shower,” you admitted. “Long day too… You might smell strange if you’d hiked as far off the track and into the woods as I have.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you leave the track? What are you doing here?” he demanded with the directness of a falling icicle.
“It was mostly by accident,” you admitted. “I’d intended to do a six mile loop from the head of the trail at Trout’s Leap Creek. Guess I got lost.”
“You suck,” he huffed and turned on his heel, heading for a door you’d not noticed before and slamming it behind him.
He didn't emerge again and Arttu looked drained when he came back out into the living room with a bowl of fragrant stew in another, larger hand-carved bowl for you. The wooden spoon he gave you had a little deer carved on the end, and you turned it over in your fingers before asking, “Did you make all this?”
Arttu nodded. “I built this house,” he said. “Eleven years ago. Added to it over time, but this bit was built first,” he said, nodding to the rectangular living space where you now sat.
“Impressive,” you smiled. “It’s beautiful. I always dreamed of buying a little place in the woods like this and living off-grid. It’s a harsh life though.”
He shrugged. “It’s the only one we’ve got now.”
You frowned curiously, but he just twitched one huge shoulder again and fell silent, staring at the logs in the burner as they slowly crumbled into the licking red flames.
Supper was beautiful, and the rich, hot food made you sleepy after a while.
“You should get some rest,” he said as he took the empty bowl from you. You were about to settle down into the comfy sofa beneath you when he added, “Come on.”
“Come where?” you asked, more awake now.
“Bed. You can have my room.”
“No,” you said. He must have sensed your anxiety because he held up his big hands in a gentle gesture. “No, really…” you said more firmly. “That’s fine. I’ll take the sofa.”
“If you’re sure,” he hedged. “Take that blanket then. I’ll get you a proper pillow.”
He disappeared through the same door in the wall behind you that Riuka had skittered through earlier, and came back with a deep, fluffy pillow that, when you laid your head on it a while later, smelled like pine and something else, something warm and almost spicy. It was his own pillow, you reasoned, even as sleep reached up for you almost immediately.
Mercifully, next morning, you found that your ankle was pretty much better. Your friend had messaged back overnight to tell you to take care and to keep messaging with updates, and you promised gratefully that you would. As you pattered about, just about to start looking for a bathroom, Riuka came through the doorway and openly snarled at you. His teeth were sharper and his features feral. His ears had become pointed, you saw, and white hair covered his cheeks and jaw. His eyes burned a violent blue. You weren’t entirely sure what his father and he were, but now you knew for certain that they were not human. Werewolves, perhaps? Or even werebears, though they were rare, especially in these parts.
“Easy,” you snapped, though it came out as half a squeak. “I’m just looking for the bathroom.”
“Bucket’s outside,” he laughed. “Use moss to wipe your butt.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Unless you’re going to pee on the carpet like a dog,” he snickered, relaxing, although his features didn’t soften back to human.
From the open doorway, a gruff, deep voice snarled, “Riuka!” and he winced slightly, caught in the act like a scolded cub.
With a hearty sigh, Arttu joined you in the living room, and something in your brain short-circuited at the sight of him. His hair was tied up in a scruffy bun at the base of his neck, and his features were soft and muzzy with sleep still. He wore soft, faded-red tartan pyjamas and a moth-eaten grey t-shirt that clearly showed his slight paunch and soft chest. His feet were bare. He scrubbed his hand over his face and added something to his son in that unfamiliar tongue before looking at you and apologising again.
The kid vanished into the kitchen like a sprite and left the two of you alone.
“It’s fine,” you smiled, not wanting to kick up a fuss. “I am hoping he was kidding about the whole ‘bucket outside and moss’ thing…”
Arttu blushed. “Bathroom is through there if you want to wash,” he said, pointing down the shadowy corridor behind him. “Water is heated by a wood fire though, so I’ll get it going and we should have enough for you to have a shower shortly. I’m sorry I didn't do it sooner. I overslept. Though… uh…” He flushed and scratched the back of his head.
“What?”
“He’s kind of half right about the other stuff. If you need the toilet, the outhouse is a short walk that way…” he said, pointing outside.
“It’s fine,” you said, throat strangely dry still as you tried not to stare at him. To say that ‘dad-bods’ had always held a fascination for you would have been an understatement. And his was the classic ‘soft around the edges with a strong core’ that just made you weak at the… everywhere. It was enough to distract you from the idea of a short hop in the cold to visit their rustic toilet situation…
It didn’t take long for him to get the fire going under the copper boiler, and in half an hour, he had announced that there was enough hot water for you to go and shower. When you joined them again, this time stepping uncertainly into the small kitchen area, you caught the way that Arttu froze, lifting his nose slightly before turning to face you. It took only a fraction of a moment before he smiled, and Riuka, who was standing beside him in the kitchen, slapped his father on the arm with the back of his hand and snarled something unpleasant in their language.
Arttu snapped at him and then turned to you. “Everything alright?” he asked gently and you nodded cautiously.
“I feel much better after a shower. I felt like the back end of a bear yesterday after all that walking and getting lost… Riuka didn’t seem to think I smelled much better either, did you?” you asked with a playful grin at the kid.
“You still stink,” he said and snatched a plate off the counter before taking his breakfast into the sitting room and slamming the door behind him.
“I’m so sorry,” Arttu muttered, turning his back on you and staring out of the kitchen window at the snowy forest beyond. He braced his weight against the counter and leaned down, lowering his face and letting out a deep sigh. His hair fell forwards, a few loose strands dangling in front of his incredible eyes.
The wind had picked up and was dragging the snow from the pines around the house with a constant ‘flump’ as piles fell onto the already settled snow. The set of his enormous shoulders looked so despondent then, and as he sighed again and started to make a pot of coffee to go with the breakfast he’d prepared for you on the top of his wood-fired stove - a mix of eggs, smoked meat, a delicious looking flatbread with a fragrant jam to go with it - his hands shook a little.
Standing, you limped over to him and laid your hand gently on his lower back. He jolted slightly, and perhaps you heard a brief, soft purr, but you withdrew your touch almost immediately, worried that the gesture wasn’t welcome after all. “Hey,” you said softly. “It’s ok - you don’t need to apologise for him - or anything. I didn’t expect to find anyone out here at all… And you didn’t have to help me… I didn’t mean to intrude on your life out here.”
“He… Riuka… We… We haven’t had anyone here since…” he struggled to put the words together. “It’s… It’s been a long time. We don’t even go into Starfall Springs all that often any more…”
“It’s ok,” you said again. “I’ll be good to head back to the trail head after breakfast, if you can point me in the right direction. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
His jaw ground and his throat worked oddly, as if he were holding back tears. “Yeah,” he said roughly. He shot a quick look out of the window again and added, “The weather isn’t looking too good though. I wouldn’t advise going today, but you’re obviously welcome to leave any time you want... I’ll walk you back to the trail head myself if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” you said, eyeing the way the branches outside were shaking and waving in the worsening wind.
“Listen, I need to go and chop some more wood for the store,” he growled. “Help yourself to… whatever…” He waved vaguely at the cabinets and cupboards around the kitchen, and at the stove where the remainder of the breakfast waited on the hot iron top, and then stumped out of the house without a backward glance.
He hadn’t poured the coffee, so you pushed the plunger down on the cafetiere and let the heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee fill the room. Nursing your mug in your hands, you watched him go over to a large tree stump not far from the house and while he hacked away at the wood with a steady, hypnotic motion, the swish-crack of the axe began to disappear behind the rising wind. It was a real treat to watch him work though, and you didn’t mind lingering there in the warmth of the kitchen.
Not long later, the front door slammed and Arttu was joined by his son. You studied the two of them and in no time at all you could see an argument brewing. It broke suddenly however, though not in the way you expected. Riuka heaved without warning, doubling over and half falling forwards. Arttu dropped the axe in the snow and lunged forwards to catch him around the middle to stop him landing face-first in the snow. The child’s body began to convulse slowly, as if waves of sickness or pain were passing through him, and all the while, Arttu stroked his soft, pale hair, crouching down, but the boy snarled in his face and you gasped as white hair bristled all over his young face. He was shifting fully this time into whatever his other form was.
Riuka’s delicate features changed, broadening a little, his nose widening, his jaw thickening as hair covered him all over and he ripped the shirt he was wearing into ribbons as his body grew and bulked out a little more. In no more than thirty tense seconds, a small yeti stood in his father’s grip, breathing hard in the snow, the tatters of his clothes surrounding him. With one final snarl, he took a harmless swipe at his father with a clawed hand, clearly not intending to connect with the delicate skin of his face, and then he raced off through the trees, disappearing into the white snow in a heartbeat.
Arttu crouched there, breathing heavily for another few seconds before sighing heavily. Lifting his own t-shirt off over his head, unbuttoning his jeans, he set them aside and prepared to shift as well. Standing naked save for his black boxer briefs - which he was apparently willing to sacrifice for the sake of your modesty and his dignity - he shot a quick, knowing glance over his shoulder at you. He had clearly been aware that you were watching so there was no point in your pretending otherwise, and he bowed his head once before shifting as well.
If watching the boy shift had been alarming, watching an adult change was almost harrowing. You’d never witnessed a shifter like a werewolf changing from one form to another, but as he jerked and twitched, soft growls emanating from him like a hacking cough, claws sprouting out of his nailbeds, thick, white fur rippling across his body, his shoulders cracking and convulsing until finally, a seven foot tall yeti was thundering off through the powdery snow, sometimes running on all fours like an ape to gain a little extra ground, and you were left staring after him in awe.
You weren’t sure what had happened between the two of them, but you were pretty sure that you were the cause of the uneasiness between father and son. Riuka didn’t like a stranger - and a human to boot, if his comments on the way you smelled were anything to go by - defiling their sanctuary, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. Nobody liked an unwanted house guest…
Sighing, you gathered your pack and belongings and donned your snow-suit. Thermally-lined and thick as a winter duvet, it wasn’t attractive, but it was waterproof and would keep you snuggly warm as you trudged south-west towards the trail head. You’d spent some time studying your maps while you’d waited for the water to heat up earlier, and had worked out where you were from the coordinates on your phone. It wasn’t as far off course as you’d thought, and would probably only take you three hours or so to get back if you cut directly towards Trout Leap Creek, rather than looking for the trail again.
Thinking that you should at least thank him and let him know what you were planning, you wrote him a note and left it on the coffee table.
‘Dear Arttu and Riuka,
I can’t thank you enough for finding me yesterday and bringing me into your home. You offered a stranger shelter, fed me and kept me warm, and I’m so grateful for your kindness. I’m heading back to the trail head from here, going directly south-west. With my snow shoes and a compass, it shouldn’t be too hard.
Take care of yourselves, and know that I will never forget your kindness.’
You signed it hesitantly and left it on the shiny surface of the handmade, wooden coffee table. Slinging your pack onto your back, you put your woolly hat on, strapped your snow-shoes on, and stumped out of the doorway as a small flurry of snowflakes whipped around you.
It was a beautiful walk, despite the wind, and with your compass in one hand, you found the way alright. After two hours of trudging - having only fallen over a few times (snow shoes are tricky, alright?) - you caught the sound of something else beyond the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet and the whistle of the wind in the pines.
Rapid footsteps in a steady three-beat rhythm like a cantering horse made you stop and look around. Expecting to see perhaps a lone reindeer, or even a cervitaur, you found your eyes going wide as not only one large yeti loped into sight, following your trail, but also a smaller one a few paces behind.
“Arttu?” you yelled and he bellowed something at you. If there were words in his call, you couldn’t make them out. To your surprise, however, you noticed that he had a satchel slung over his back, going over one shoulder and under the other. Riuka carried nothing, and kept up just fine, following in his father’s footsteps. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”
He drew to a halt, chest heaving, breath filling the air around you, nostrils flared.
“Can you talk like this?”
He nodded and Riuka snickered. “He’s just got fat these days…”
“Quiet, you cheeky cub,” Arttu panted, adding an affectionate little chuckle afterwards.
“What’s wrong?” you repeated, taking a small step back and just looking up at him. He was so impressive like this; all bunched muscle and thick fur, with a soft belly that made you ache to put your hands on it.
“Dad totally panicked when we got back and you weren’t there,” Riuka laughed.
“I left a note,” you said, staring at them.
It was only then that you noticed the really small ears on the side of his head, catching the movement as they swivelled back to lie flat against his fur. “Oh. We… we didn’t find anything… I just thought you’d… Uh… So… you’re alright? How’s your foot?”
You waggled your ankle experimentally in your thick boot. “It’s ok. I’m not going to be walking far on it tomorrow, that’s for sure, but it’ll be ok to drive back to Starfall. I’ve got a small apartment that I’m renting there.”
A moment hung between the three of you then, with Arttu looking awkward and embarrassed, and you tried not to be insulted that he seemed surprised to have found you in one piece, while Riuka looked between you and his father with an unreadable expression on his fuzzy face. He looked like a giant teddy bear and it was frankly adorable, but you tried not to patronise him. Kids his age probably didn’t want to feel cute and adorable.
“You going to walk me back to my car or are you heading home now?” you asked eventually. The wind was still there, whipping around your face and stinging your cheeks, tugging snow from the branches in showers of glittering powder.
“You… You don’t mind?” he asked. His voice carried the same warmth and lyrical intonation, but it was much deeper like this, and it had a slight lisp to it, as if his large canines made it difficult to talk around, which was also actually rather sweet.
You shook your head. “I don’t mind, but I’m getting cold standing still. You’re welcome to join me, but I’d understand if you’d rather get back home.”
He looked at his son, who just shrugged. “You mind if we go with?” Arttu asked him, and he shook his head just a little.
“No,” he said, his blue eyes looking from you to his father again. “You can babysit though,” he added, frolicking off through the snow and kicking a load of powder up into your face as he left. You staggered, and would have toppled over had Arttu not instinctively put out one huge paw and steadied you.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Laughing, you shook your head. “Thanks. How does he have so much energy though?” you asked as Riuka bounded off and startled a grouse from its hiding place and chased it until it vanished down another hole somewhere, snarling at it like a wildcat all the while.
Arttu just shook his fuzzy head and motioned for you to step out first. He let you take the easiest path, picking his way around trees and rocks to give you a better time of it.
To be continued tomorrow (nsfw)
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