Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I woke up hungry and determined.

I grabbed my mother's basket and looked at what I had left of the food. I found one of my mother's delicious sandwiches and a few krabbelurer left from last night, with white sugar and cinnamon on them. Krabbelurer is the consistency of bread and American pancakes, but you fry them and add sugar and cinnamon. They are yummy, and one gets full easily. I decide to have the last Krabbelurer and save the sandwich and the last of the strawberry soda for my journey. Before I start to eat, I need to go to the rundown bathroom in the hut to use the toilet.

When I came back into the room to start eating, I saw that where I had sat before, something was shimmering on the blanket. It was a small gift bag with sparkles that caught the sunlight. I felt panic grab my heart.

With trembling hands, I grabbed the gift bag. I opened it to find a large velvet box. I recognized that box well. It's an old, soft velvet box, worn from the years, but you can still see the coat of arms on it. It was the coat of Oxenstierna af Södermöre. Below it was the noble last name, which says "Oxenstierna." I was never allowed to touch this box growing up. My mother was protective of it. She told me once it belonged to her great-grandmother’s mother and it was a mating gift from her mother.

A precious gift and heirloom.

I opened the box carefully and remembered when I was five years old, and my mother found me looking through her jewelry boxes, and I opened this very box. It was the only time she hit me. No one was allowed to touch it. But she had shown me that time, after she had apologized with much regret. Now I am holding the box she had told me she would never part with until she died. I am looking at the aged necklace with matching bracelet and earrings, and it had a tiara too—mind-blowing craftsmanship behind this jewelry. With an unsteady hand, I touched the necklace, almost expecting someone to hit me. Inside it was written in gold letters, “Made with care for Sigrid Oxenstierna”

I can’t resist it; I trace the gold letters with my finger. This box of jewelry is 175 years old; it was made for Sigrid's mating in 1851. Sigrid was the last of her line as an Oxenstierna af Södermöre. Now, Oxenstierna is a dead lineage and name of the past. Just a ghost of the past. Sigrid took her mate’s name, Ekeblad. I feel for Sigrid's sad life. She was murdered by her mate’s mistress when she was heavily pregnant with her second child. The tales say the unborn child died, and the mistress carved the pup out of her tummy while the mate watched. It continues by saying the unborn pup was female. Sigrid's mate supposedly uttered, good riddance, no one wants a girl. In the story, Sigrid's firstborn son watches from the shadows with tear-rimmed eyes.

I am about to put the box back in the gift bag when I see a letter. It was my name on it in my mother’s cursive handwriting. I automatically trace her letters in awe, almost.

My dear daughter,

Remember, you are loved.

Remember your past and where you come from.

Keep the jewelry safe; don’t show it to anyone. When your youngest daughter is born and has grown up, give her this as a link to her family. Please take your kids home to see me even if I am dead and buried. It would be great, please, to observe my grandkids from the afterlife as my tomb.

It is with grief in my heart that I know we won’t meet again in this life. I so much want to see you settle down with a man to give you the love you deserve.

With eternal love,

Mom

I hadn’t noticed my tears until they fell onto the paper. I folded it neatly, tucked it in the envelope, and put it in the bag with the jewelry box.

I took a krabbelur in one and sat on the dirt floor looking at my small luggage. A life put into two backpacks is not much to show for.

I know my mother must have been keeping an eye on the hut so she could leave this for me. I am not sure if she will come back, but I will leave the basket for her.

I take my bags and, with resolve, leave for my new life. I decide to head south until I reach the city. There is a human city where I can take the train to get farther south. I entered the city and started to search for a small diner to get something to eat.

The city is a remnant from the Middle Ages with some parts still intact. I find a cozy café in a basement on the main street going through the city center. I walk down the old and ragged stone steps. Entering the cozy café is like being transported back in time. There are no electrical lights; only candles and old oil lamps light up the walls and tables. I walk up to order my food, and I have to rummage around in my backpack. I know I put my savings there. It should be enough for my meal and for a train ticket. I get a few bills and place them on the counter to pay for food and drink before I go and choose a small table with only two chairs in the far end in a corner. I sit down and am about to put the change back into a smaller pocket on the backpack when I find a thick bundle of money in there. It can only be my mother’s doing. A rising conflict of emotions, relief to know I will get by for a while without the panic of finding work, the other side of it is why. Annoyance and the question, why would she do that?

I look around me, and there are people at almost every table in the café. No one is looking at me. I am not ignored as at home. I am just one out of many in a city where no one takes special notice of me. Here, I am not the weak wolf. Not a disappointment. I am just a girl sitting at a table in a café.

A female voice: “Excuse me, miss, I have your order.”

I look up and see a girl who seems a little older than me, maybe 17. She is holding my plate of food and my drink of soda. I hurry to reply, “Thank you. I was miles away in my thoughts.”

Her giggle is contagious. “I could tell. I hope you enjoy your food.”

I smile and respond, “Thank you very much. Could you tell me where I can find a place to stay for the night?”

Her smile dropped, and she looked worried.

“it’s just that I am new and town and just got here.”

“if you dare, I live in the outskirts of the city, and I get off my shift in 30 minutes and you can spend the night at my place.”

I smile and start to eat my food. It tasted amazing. Best I've had in a long time, if I don’t count my mother’s cooking. The longer I sit there, the more I wonder whether it was hasty to agree to stay at a stranger's house. I don’t even know her name. I am alone in this world. I was getting more worried when suddenly she came back.

“Are you ready? Oh yeah, I apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Ingeborg.”

“It's alright, and mine is Kristina. Sure, I am good to go.”

I walk behind Ingeborg up the stairs to the exit to the busy street. She grabs my hand and walks with a spring in her step. I thought we would never get there. We turn off a busy street, and suddenly it's as if all the people disappeared. She turns to me and says, “Usually my father has friends and some uncles over to watch soccer or some sport on the big screen, but don’t worry we can just stay in my room.”

We keep walking for a bit before we turn down another street, then right again. God, there's no way I can find my way back. It will be impossible to find my way to the train station tomorrow. Then we turn again, and this time it’s a parkway that leads up to a large house. It was two stories. We enter, and there’s a man who suddenly stops dead in his tracks. He stares me dead in the eyes. Ingeborg says cheerfully,

“Hi uncle! I brother a friend home to spend the night. “

“Hello, girls. Nice seeing you both.”

He walks off with long, rushed steps. He says something to a tall, lean man. The man sidesteps a bit so he can see me. He looks worried and something else I can’t define.

Ingeborg joyfully exclaims, “Hi daddy, I brought a new friend she’s only spening tonight then she will go okay?”

“Yeah, yea. Fine, fine.” And he leaves.

I hear Ingeborg mumble, that was weird even for him. She grabs ice cream, and we walk to her room, which turns out to be the basement. A large basement is like an apartment. It's divided into a kitchen area, living room, and bedroom. She looks uncomfortable, maybe because my eyes must have turned wide. “Its better for me down here, especially when my father has friends over.”

I can’t tell Kristina that every person in this house is a mythical creature from fairy tales. My father and a few others are werewolves, but he usually has vampires and other creatures over as well. My father is the chairman of a mythical affairs, so it means a lot of different kinds of creatures visit our house daily. I want to be out of their way and be invisible. I don’t want Kristina to think I am crazy. I really like this girl and would love to have a normal friend.