Chapter 7

Mila inhaled softly, tasting the air.

She was in a different place than where she had fallen. Someone had moved her.

She had felt herself land face-down on the forest floor. Now she was on her back in a strangely dipped area like she was laying in a cot.

She opened her eyes slowly. Above her was a bare, wooden ceiling. There were cracks and holes where it hadn’t seen a proper patch-job in one too many years and dust motes floated around.

It smelled musty. Even before the apocalypse, this place hadn’t had many visitors. Carefully, she sat up. Whoever had brought her here had simply deposited her onto what looked like an army surplus cot. They had rid her of her sword and crossbow, but they hadn’t done a thorough search. Under her tunic, she could still feel the ceremonial daggers.

Sitting up, she could see more of the space she was in. It was an old cabin, probably a hunting retreat or part of an old resort. Besides the cot, there was little else. A single hardwood cupboard leaned heavily to one wall across from a potbelly stove that was just wide enough to allow a stew pot sit atop it. Next to it was a large, porcelain tub with clawed brass feet.

The tub had a single tap. She supposed the purpose would have been to fill a pot with the cold water, heat it on the little stove, and fill the tub for a bath.

There was a single door for an exit and two tiny windows. Neither window appeared to have been built to open and she had an easier time seeing through the cracks in the ceiling than through the grimy glass. If she was to meet the wolf pack who had brought her here, there was only the door to be opened.

Mila reached out toward the door. It stuck a little, the wood having expanded and contracted dozens of times since its installation. She had to throw her shoulder into it.

The door opened judgingly to a serenely beautiful landscape.



They were in a meadow surrounded by ancient, tall trees. Mila’s was not the only cabin. There were many, several larger ones in a neat circle, all seeming focused on a pavilion.

Mila was surprised by the number of people. There were dozens of people. She hadn’t seen so many grouped together since the apocalypse, yet here they were.

They didn’t look unhappy either. They weren’t refugees on the run from the aftermath of the apocalypse. They were healthy and thriving here.

As Mila watched, she even saw children playing together. Some were in wolf forms, still unable to completely control the change when it took them.

It was so beautiful, it made Mila’s heart clench.



A tiny bleat made her aware that she wasn’t alone in watching this heartwarming scene. In the light of a full sun, the unicorn’s pelt was nearly transparently light.

It stood to the side of the door as though it had been waiting. No one had attempted to tether the creature, it was still completely free, but it had stayed for her. It caused a lump to form in her throat.

She reached to pet its nose softly. The wind kicked up, making its mane and tail ripple like steam. Its ruby red eyes blinked peacefully.

“Never thought I’d see a unicorn,” A young man called over.

Mila looked to the owner of the voice. He was a young wolf, perhaps still in his early twenties. Though it was harvest season in Canada, he wore light clothing. A simple t-shirt and loose fitted pants. He had a shock of copper hair and his brown eyes were friendly, but searching.

He wasn’t alone either. Next to him was a surprisingly petite woman with dark blond hair. She was still clearly a wolf, but she must have been a lower tier. She was too small to be an effective fighter for the pack.

She carried a small stack of towels with her and her eyes darted nervously between Mila and the unicorn. Mila realized that by comparison, she must look feral. Mila didn’t mind roughing it, but she must look truly filthy to these polished people.

Mila stiffened as they came closer, the man reaching out to introduce himself. “I’m Dillon, this is Winnie.”

Mila almost cringed at shaking hands. It was such a pre-apocalypse gesture. “Mila.”

“And what’s his name?” Dillon nodded politely to the unicorn.

Mila frowned. Names something humans used. In the ocean, talking aloud wasn’t necessary and depending on depths, there was little biodiversity that needed to be distinguished. Unicorns generally didn’t have names and seeing as this was the only one she’d seen in years, she hadn’t called it anything.

“It’s ‘the unicorn’,” She said dumbly. “Does it need any more uniqueness than that?”

Dillon took a moment to ponder that, finally giving a wry chuckle. “Guess not.”

Winnie shifted nervously at Dillon’s side. “It’s nice to meet you. How are you doing? Kody said you passed out in the forest.”

Mila couldn’t control her expression. Her face pinched a little at the reminder. “I seem to have intruded.”

Winnie’s eyes widened in alarm. They were a light hazel. “No no! You’ve clearly had a hard go of it since the humans... no, don’t worry a bit. You-you must be exhausted. Here, let me help you.”

Winnie pressed closer with her towels. Dillon moved with her like they were a single entity. Perhaps they were what was known as “mates”.

Mila stepped back through the doorway, allowing Winnie and Dillon to usher through.

“I’m sorry, we don’t get hot water out here. I’ll go get you a pot and kindling. We can get you a fire going and heat some water so you can have a bath. Then I’m sure you’ll want to eat something.”

Winnie was talking fast. She seemed really nervous. Dillon moved between her and Mila, making a buffer, possibly in case he deemed Mila a threat to Winnie’s safety.

Winnie turned on the tap. It made a sick sort of gurgling for a minute before choking up a spurt of brown water. “We have to let it run a minute before the water clears up. I’ll be right back with the pot.”

Mila watched them scurry back out, leaving the towels on the cot. She closed the door after them and put the stopper in the tub once it began to run clear. She wasn’t concerned about the water being cold.