Three Swedish Mountain Men Novels & Stories

Somewhere in the Scandinavian mountains, the brown bears, elk, gray wolves, wolverines, and lynx all were roaming, some in search of food, some to escape being one. In one of the spread pods, high and up away from the rest, lay a man and woman under the heated blanket, both naked. The woman’s body bore red and blue marks from her neck to her breasts. An agitating red bruise rested on top of her right nipple as a spectator of the times that erect organ suffered in his warm, starving mouth. Her thighs had fingerprints, proof of his mad hunger for his woman.

The mountain air was a sharp contrast to the humid, suffocating weight of Jakarta. As the three figures ascended the narrow goat path, the world below began to dissolve into a tapestry of deep greens and morning mists. Dewangga walked with a steady pace, his body aching but his mind clearer than it had been in years. Behind him, Sarah guided Davian, who moved with a newfound, albeit fragile, determination. They reached a small stone hut perched on a ridge that overlooked a valley so deep the bottom was hidden by clouds. This was the sanctuary Sarah had promised—a place that didn't exist on any map, owned by a man who owed his life to a secret long buried.

"Let's get down the mountain." I reached up. Our fingers touched. His were cold. Mine were cold. Neither of us could feel the difference. "You died," I said. He looked at our hands, locked together through the thin, cold air. "So did you." He pulled me up. The storm had stopped. The mountain was silent. And side by side, two dead climbers began their long walk home. They say seven people went to climb a snow mountain. No one ever came down.

Rory said. The moment Severin returned to his hotel room, he went to his bed and dozed off. When the sun was rising in the money, he was all ready to head to the mountain. Since he was unable to drive his car to the mountain, he hailed a taxi and requested the taxi driver to drop him off near the mountain. "Hey, handsome, are you going into the mountain to hunt for treasure?" Not long later, he heard someone talking to him from behind. He looked back and saw there were six people standing behind him. An old man with grey hair, a pair of beautiful twins, two muscular men, and one thin middle-aged man.

There would be a few people house-sharing just so they weren’t wasting bedrooms. The head of the Dwarves, an old man called Aage Ahlberg, affectionately called ‘Double A’ by the ones he likes. He’s driving his people hard and as a room was clear it was cleaned. Half were moving the other half were cleaning. He was an efficient man at the best of times and reliable as the mountain he hailed from in Sweden regardless of the times. He thumps his chest as he signs off to continue harrying his people. She smiles and nods, “Okay, what else? Oh, Dim, Dom, do we have any new ideas in surveillance?” They both grin and nod in sync.

I took his hand and shook it, hoping handshakes were a thing here. Apparently, they weren't, because he gave me a curious look. The man looked over at Fynn, who shrugged. "She's not from here," he explained vaguely to his friend. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, ma'am," the man greeted. "I'm Ragnar, son of the dwarves of Mistril Mountain."

Her fake tears began to fall gracefully again, creating the most pitiful expression anyone had ever seen. “Brother Arthur... Brother Jensen... Brother Redy...” Sarah whimpered in a weak, trembling voice, deliberately drawing the three men’s attention back to her. “Don’t fight because of me... I’m fine...” Sarah gently bit her lower lip, then looked toward Ivy with a deceitful gaze disguised as guilt.

Desperate people did desperate things, and Clara had seen what desperation could do. She watched as they reached the base of the mountain and began to climb, their progress slow and painful. The snow was deep, the incline steep, and they struggled with every step. One of the men slipped and fell, sliding back down the slope before the others helped him to his feet. They pressed on, their determination a testament to their will to survive.

"That might be a good idea. So tell me about your pack." "Well, like I told your friend earlier... It is in Montana near Spotted Bear Mountain." "That is a lot more detail than you gave my friend," I tell him laughing. "Yeah, I guess it is, but I figured we were playing the interrogation game." He says, shrugging his shoulders. "We have around Three hundred pack members. Travis is my Beta, and my best friend Nathan is my Gamma. None of us three were mated until tonight." We both smile at the fact that he is the first of them to find a mate.

His eyes were glossed over so she knew he was communicating with someone. “We’ve located the men. There’s about ten of them. They are camped at the south mountain.” Garold was sent back. “How many are with you?” Arkyn asked quietly. “Enough. Just Skarde and I.” Garold sent back a loud smile in his tone. “Take them out. Find out which pack they belong to. Save the heads.” Arkyn sent back quickly. “It will be done.” Garold responded shortly and cut the mindlink.