Chapter 2: Am I In The Afterlife?

Freya’s POV

I woke up to the sound of a crackling fire and the savory smell of beef stew.

My eyes opened slowly. My memories were still very hazy and distorted. Am I in the afterlife? All I want now is peace.

I tried to get a grasp of where I was, and my horrible past memories enveloped me, causing me to flinch. How had I landed here? I thought I was dead. All I remembered was weeping as I drove back from my child's grave, a sudden flash of light as I came face to face with an eighteen-wheeler truck, a loud crashing sound, and the sound of shattering glass. That was all I could remember; I didn't remember anything else.

The overpowering smell of beef stew seemed to serve as a stimulant, and I gathered enough strength to raise my head slowly and turn my eyes to observe my surroundings.

The room was small, a wood cabin by the looks of it, with the door barred shut and small windows that let in narrow rays of moonlight. A dim lantern hung on the wall, doing little to really illuminate the room.

A wooden cane chair was in the corner, and several clothes were dumped into it. Stacks of firewood were in the corner, and a pot was cooking somewhere, pervading the whole atmosphere with the aroma of beef stew.

A sudden movement made me flinch, but it was just a cat – a black cat. It had been hiding behind the cane chair but slunk out now and casually leaped on the chair and out of the small window.

"Finally. You are awake." A voice suddenly jolted me back. The voice came from a dark corner of the room.

I sat up suddenly in alarm and fear. I was sure I was the only human in the room. Where did this voice come from? My eyes trailed the direction the voice came from, and an old woman walked out from the corner where the voice had sounded.

"Who...who are you?" I stuttered. My tongue felt heavy, as if it had lost the ability to move after such a long period of inactivity.

Was it me, or did my voice actually sound different? Much deeper than my usual high-pitched feminine voice. The old woman ignored my question and continued to inch closer to me.

"Who are you?!" I asked more forcefully this time, my claws extending from my fingers.

"Rest, dear. You do not quite have the energy for shouting or fighting," the woman said, glancing at my extended claws. She looked aged, but her voice was surprisingly clear.

The woman finally reached me and pushed me slowly back into a lying position. The old woman was strong, or perhaps I was the one who was too weak to resist.

"Who are you? Where am I?" I asked again. This place doesn’t look like the afterlife; I should be clothed in white, and everything should look mystical.

"Who am I?" The old woman replied. "My name is Morgan. I am a healer. This, this is my house."

I watched as the woman inched away again, this time in the direction of the cooking pot. She moved slowly on a wooden cane.

"How did I get here? What happened after the accident? How come I am not... how come I am not dead?" I asked in a rush. I needed answers, and my curiosity was eating me up.

"Oh, you'd have been dead, had it not been for me," the woman said. She got to the pot, opened the lid, and a sudden stream of smoke cascaded from it, leaving the old woman in a coughing fit.

I wanted to help the woman, but I couldn't even stand yet. My legs felt too heavy to lift, as if they were not mine.

The smoke finally dissipated, and the woman's coughing subsided. "As to how you got here," she continued when her coughing finally stopped, "Little Trevor watched as your car smashed into the truck. He managed to rescue you from the wreckage and bring you here."

"Trevor?" I asked, surprised.

"My cat," the old woman replied.

"Your cat rescued me from the car wreckage?" I asked, with a furrowed eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"Trevor… Trevor is not your regular everyday cat. He is different," the woman said.

"So, after that, what happened?" I prompted eagerly.

"Trevor brought you here, and luckily… lucky for you, I mean, I had the right ingredients to treat your wounds and… um… transform you as best as I could."

A silence settled between us as I tried to understand all she said. The old woman was now ladling spoons of beef stew into a plate. I still had several questions raging in my mind.

Where exactly was this place? How far was I from the pack? How long had I been here? Was there a way I could get back to the Pack?

The old woman spoke again, jolting me from my thoughts.

"Beef stew?" she asked, walking towards me, a bowl of that wonderful savory beef stew in her hands.

"Yes, please," I replied and sat up again. I had not realized how hungry I was. As I sat up, I noticed something uncomfortable I had been lying on.

I picked up what it was and saw that it was a mirror. I looked into the mirror, expecting to see a scarred face from the accident, but what I was looking at alarmed me and scared me more than anything I had ever experienced.

Why were grey eyes looking back at me from the mirror, in the same surprised expression I wore on my face when my eye color is blue? Why does the person reflected in the mirror have blonde hair when my hair is brown? Why do I have a long pointed nose when my nose is small? Where is the small mole beside my nose? Why are my eyebrows bushy when in reality, I have scanty eyebrows?

I looked up slowly to find the old woman looking at me, a sad expression on her aged face.

"I am sorry, dear," the old woman said slowly and sadly. "It was the only way I could have saved your life. Your old body… your old body was so damaged. You would have died. The only way I could have saved your life was to use another person's body for you. I had to give you a new face. I had to give you a new body."

I barely registered what the woman was saying. I continued to stare, transfixed in horror at the mirror as I let out a blood-curdling scream into the silent night.