There Was a Time

from Leanne's "Above Sea Stories"

(Go to All The Above Sea Stories.)

If you’re new to The Môrdreigiau Chronicles, welcome! Mostly I share the journals and letters and novels that I found kept in a trunk found in my attic that were written during the Regency period (or shortly thereafter) and involve a small group on quests to find Arthurian treasures that will enable them to save the world from ecological collapse. Oh, and there are shapeshifting sea dragons. I know, sounds like a fantasy story, right?

It was time. Autumn pulled on her puffy jacket and boots, grabbed her keys and headed out the door with an eager step.

At last, at last—first snow. She waited every year for this.

She walked through the town. The narrow winding streets left but a skerrick of a footpath to walk upon. Following the main road, she ascended the hills directly behind the town, abandoning the road for the public footpath that crossed the ridge.

At the top of the escarpment, Autumn stopped, taking in the all-too-familiar view rendered magical by the approaching weather. Already a light dusting of snow coated the hills on the far side of the valley. Soon, the snow would reach the town’s slate-grey rooftops and then finally come to her.

She watched the snow fall in gentle waves, gradually thickening until she no longer saw the hills. She inhaled the crisp cold air, letting the chill of it settle deep in her bones, exhaling puffs of moisture—dragon breath, she had called it as a child, called it still. She bounced on her toes, filled with the weather’s promise of wildness, of change, of natute’s raw power.

The first flurry arrived, fat white flakes drifting down out of the leaden sky. Autumn looked up, letting the flakes fall upon her face, feeling tension she didn’t know she held dissipate.

“I wish…” she whispered. Wishing on the first snow was more powerful than wishing on a star. “I wish for a true companion and lover.” Autumn wished this every year. Maybe this year it would come true.

She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, hoping to catch a snowflake. She closed her eyes, letting the ice crystals fall upon her eyelashes, her cheeks. She huffed a happy sigh. Maybe she should wish for more first snows instead.

A low rumble sounded behind her, ending in a definite snarl.

Turning slowly, she faced a large grey wolfhound. Tall and lanky, its lips curled, baring sharp incisors.

“Hello, puppy!” Autumn kept her voice soft and light. “Aren’t you a pretty one?” With care, she extended her hand for the hound to sniff.

The dog’s nostrils flared. The growling ceased and its tail spiraled wildly. Its nose pushed under her hand, nudging it to lay atop its head.

Autumn obliged, delivering the requested scritches behind the ears. “Who’s a good pup,” she approved. The dog reared onto its hind legs, forepaws coming to rest on her shoulders. It licked her cold cheek.

Laughing, she gently took hold of its forelegs and stepped out of its dogged embrace.

“He’s not usually like that with strangers.” The man’s voice had a soft burr, holding a small note of apology.

“I think he knows a dog person when he sees one,” Autumn replied. The hound pressed against her side, demanding more attention.

She looked up from the sweet grey wolfhound. The dog’s owner had broad shoulders. From under his knitted cap, dark hair turning silver peeked out. His gentle smile peeked through his short-cropped beard. “What’s his name?” she asked.

“Canna,” the man replied. “Based a bit on the Latin for dog but also because he canna obey a command.”

Canna’s head bumped against her hip. Autumn grinned. “Canna or willna?”

“Not even if there are treats involved.” The man heaved a long-suffering sigh. Canna’s ears twitched at the word “treats” but nudged Autumn with his head as if to say “Don’t stop patting me now!”

She rubbed Canna’s ears. “He’s lovely.”

The man shrugged, smiling. “It’s why I keep him.” He drew closer. A head taller than Autumn, she gazed up into crinkled blue-grey eyes. Eyes the colour of snow clouds.

“Thank you for sharing him, at least for a little bit.”

His broad shoulder shifted in an enigmatic gesture. “It’s because he won’t heel.”

Autumn surveyed the handsome hound and his good-looking owner. “I suppose I should let you continue your walk?”

Canna barked, leaping away from her. He raced a short distance, ran back, skittering around them as if it say “come on!”

The man regarded her. “Would you … would you like to join us?”

Autumn waved him away. “I wouldn’t want to disturb—“

Canna barked, circling and giving her a firm nudge.

“I think Canna is insisting.” He waited for her to choose.

Autumn reminded herself of what she had just wished for: ‘a true companion and lover’. Was this man and his dog a two-for-one deal? As much as she wanted to linger and enjoy the first snow, walking through it with someone might even be nicer.

They strolled in silence. The falling snow blanketed both road and town noise until she heard only their breathing and the crunch of ice crystals beneath their boots. Shades of white and grey surrounded them. Black fingers of leafless trees and bushes loomed and faded along their path.

The snowflakes fell faster and thicker. Canna, running ahead, disappeared into the white.

He came barreling back, running into Autumn. She slipped on the slick ground. Arms flailing, she lost her footing.

The man grabbed her, pulling her against him.

Startled, breathless, she gazed up into his too-close face. His jaw tightened, the muscle working. “Forgive me,” he muttered.

He kissed her, his lips ice-cold against hers. They didn’t warm on contact, but burned and numbed.

He broke away. “I should not have...”

Autumn stared up at him, stunned. She imagined that cold mouth upon other parts of her body. The snowy air felt warm in comparison. “Why, why did you do that?”

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Cheeks so red, those hazel eyes with flecks of gold, your … your utter joy in this weather. I couldn’t resist.”

She brushed her gloved fingertips across her frozen lips. “I—I didn’t mind.” Autumn set a small distance between them.

His hold relaxed but he didn’t completely let her go, seemed unable to.

“It does make this next question awkward.” Autumn’s fingers curled into the braided wool of his cream jumper. “Your name?”

His lips twisted in a half-smile. “I have got this all backward. The name’s Wynn. You?”

“Autumn.” She looked around. The snow threatened to become a storm. In the swirl of white snow, she easily imagined them the only people in this world… She gave herself a shake, dislodging snow from her shoulders. “I think this is going to get worse before it gets better.”

Wynn inclined his head. “There’s a small shepherder’s cottage up ahead. It’s a bit tumbledown but most of the roof still holds.”

She hesitated. It was utter madness to follow a stranger but so was staying out in this weather. “Lead on!”

By the time they reached the hut, the wind had picked up, almost blinding them with ice and finding every gap in her clothing. Wynn struggled to open the door but soon they were safely inside.

They sat on a rather ratty sofa, Autumn having beaten the dust out of the cushions and hopefully scaring off any small creatures. A small camphorwood chest revealed a faded, ripped quilt.

The three of them sat under it in front of the fire Wynn had built in the small fireplace. Canna draped himself across the two of them, his large head resting on the sofa arm by Autumn’s elbow.

“Sorry about him,” Wynn muttered.

“Extra warmth.” Autumn smiled, scratching Canna’s neck.

“How has life been for you, this past year?” Wynn shifted his weight, and by extension Canna’s, letting his knee rest against hers. The cold bit through her jeans, probably from a rent in the quilt, but she didn’t want to break even the accidental contact.

“Just this past year?” She guessed life stories could wait. Maybe if the storm lingered they could fill in the gaps. “I retired last year, so this year has been all about discovering what to do with the rest of my life. A little volunteering, playing with all kinds of art. Finding joy, like the first snow. What about you?”

“Semi-retired.” Wynn rested his head on an open palm, watching her. “I consult on air conditioning.”

They talked, their voices level with the susurration of snow pelting against wall and windowpane. They spoke of their favorite foods and films, past pet stories, the last good book they each had read.

They settled into a comfortable silence. The fire popped and sizzled from the damp wood. Canna snored.

Autumn experienced an unbearable longing for this man, a stranger until today. All her senses were alight in his presence. “Why… why did you kiss me?”

“Because …” His blue-grey eyes darkened into slate-green. “I’ve hungered for your touch.”

Autumn twisted in her seat to face him. Canna grumbled, but fell back to sleep. “We only just met.”

“Ah.” Wynn scratched at his bearded chin. “It’s been a year since…” He cleared his throat. “When I stopped your fall, something just … clicked. That what I’ve missed this past year is…” He stared past Autumn into the fire. “—is you.” He rubbed his chest. “I felt it here.”

Autumn regarded him. “I felt it too,” she whispered. “I thought I imagined it, but I didn’t, did I?”

She could lose herself in his even, serious gaze. “No, you didn’t.”

She leaned in, grasping the back of his neck, still cold from the snow. Her skin tingled but she drew him to her and he bent forward willingly. His lips chilled hers and slid on, down her neck, making her gasp.

Canna idly kicked at both of them, bringing them back to their senses.

“I guess that old saying is true,” Autumn murmured. “The first snow does grant wishes.”

Wynn stared at her in horror. “No. Autumn, you didn’t.”

She nodded, frowning at his odd reaction. “When the first snowflakes fall on you, make a wish and it will come true.”

“That’s not how it goes.” He dragged his hand through his greying hair. “It’s ’make a wish and payment comes due’.”

“Payment?” Autumn’s lower lip trembled. “What payment?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Wynn tugged her to him, dislodging the wolfhound. “We have now.”

Autumn woke in her own bed in the small terraced house deep in town. She stretched, feeling the ache of over-used muscles from yesterday’s hike. Rolling out of bed, she stood at the window, watching the flakes continue to fall. So beautiful.

She wondered if yesterday’s wish for a true companion and lover would come true.

Wynn Terry stood on the narrow footpath, Canna’s fur warm beneath his icy touch. Dawn’s pastel kiss had already faded into the glow of morning. He looked up through the falling snow, watching Autumn McKenzie stare out at the sky from her window. She wore nothing but an over large sleep shirt, her auburn hair shot through with silver.

If she saw him, she gave no sign. Nor would she, Wynn knew, for payment had been made and it was always the same. She had forgotten last night, just as she had every year when one season ended and another began. Ice crystallized from his tear-ducts.

Next year. Perhaps next year, they would fall asleep together, wake together and she would remember that she loved him and he loved her.

Next year.

There were a number of writing prompt challenges going around in December. Why write several when you can combine them into one! This includes Day 1 from Tamsin G., two from the first week of Luna Asli Kolcu’s winter prompts and the First Friday prompt by Wild K. Nebula.

In short, Winter puts Autumn to sleep, two strangers share the last warmth by a fire (I took on the bonus tone, twist and theme), when the first flakes fall you make a request—but there’s a payment asked for in return; and finally, to include the line “I’ve hungered for your touch.”

Thanks for reading! Would love to know what resonated or sparkled for you in this story. Please share in the comments below, or drop me an email/DM.

If you’d like to read short stories about shapeshifting sea dragons, you check them out in The Red Book of Rhiannon.

(Go to All The Above Sea Stories.)