Greenland, Present Day

Muffled Danish words wake me up from pleasant dreams of nothing. Only white noise and everlasting peace exist in my head. Björn has stopped telling his story when I close my eyes, but hopefully, he can tell me the parts that remain untold himself.

Peeking out from layers of blankets--which smell wondrously of him-- I spot Mikk across the room, speaking on the phone. He wears nothing except a pair of green boxers and seems no worse for wear despite the chilly nature of the room. Pale morning light illuminates his impressive physique, allowing me to admire him in detail--which wasn't quite possible during last night's frenzy. He doesn't carry the kind of muscles you see on admired models or famed actors, sculpted for optimal visual effect, but rather exemplifies the kind of body born out of activity and labor. Being a man of Greenland, his sturdy frame is also padded with a layer of insulation--which I supposed explains why he rarely seems to freeze--making each limb rounded in shape but hard underneath.

Who cares about models or actors when you have such a sight in front of you? Not air-brushed or posed, but authentic and real with hair that is matted in the back and eyes that are still foggy from sleep.

Upon realizing I'm awake, Mikk smiles at me, pointing at the phone and holding up a finger to signal that he's soon finished. My sleepy brain, which can barely distinguish Danish words even when awake, manages to interpret Mikk saying something about someone minding their own business from now on before he hangs up.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." He approaches the bed. I swallow hard to focus as I notice how low his boxers sit on his hips, revealing lines that appear to point downward. "I just had to call Mads to tell him I'm not coming to work today."

"What did you tell him you were doing?" I ask, assuming he didn't mention anything about werebears or immortal Vikings.

"Just that I needed a day off. I never use any sick days and rarely take a vacation, so I figured that wouldn't be too much to ask." He sighs, sitting down on the bed next to me.  His hand starts to pat my leg below the covers. "But Mads didn't agree. He said he needed every man on deck since we're running more tours than usual because of the eclipse tomorrow."

"So you have to go to work anyway?" I ask, worried I will have to try to find my way back to the cave alone. Because not going there doesn't feel like an option either. I have to untangle all the knotted threads of this saga somehow, or my mind will be forever lost in its yarn.

"No," Mikk assures me, leaning over for a kiss. His lips wrap around mine as if they belong together. "I reminded Mads about him blathering about my personal affairs at work, which made him much more agreeable. I will run double tours next week to give him some time off, and he'll call in his cousin to cover for me today and tomorrow."

"So I have you all to myself for two whole days?" Stroking my fingers through his hair, I pull him in for another kiss.

"You have me for as long as you need me."

I need him forever. But I don't say that. It's way too early for such declarations.

And once I've sorted out the tangled yarn of Björn's saga, I'm going home.

Or am I? Except for my work--which I'd rather avoid anyway since Stefan will be there--I don't really have any obligations at home. My parents and sisters are there, of course, but there are ways to stay connected to them from afar.

Perhaps sensing that his statement has rattled me, Mikk places a kiss on my cheek. "Should we get going?" he asks. "Since we don't know how long it takes to get to the cave it may be good to start early."

With his almost-naked body pressing down on me, warm and alluring, getting up is kind of the last thing I want to do, even though I know we should. "Can't we just stay in bed for like fifteen more minutes?" I put my hands on his well-shaped back, pressing our hips together.

"Fifteen minutes?" He asks, a cheeky grin on his face. "You certainly don't have much faith in my endurance..." Hovering above me in plank position for a moment, he pulls the blankets away to unite his bare skin to mine.

I never knew Greenland was such a hot place. But as my body feverishly pulsates against his, the island appears as scorching as the sand dunes of the Sahara.

An hour later, we finally get out of bed. Hopefully, Björn will understand the delay.

***

After following the road to where I walked out of the wilderness yesterday, we begin our trek. I only have a vague conscious idea about the direction to go in, but my subconscious seems to steer me as we stumble across rocks and duck under branches. My instinct tells me where to go, not unlike messenger pigeons always finding their way to their target.

But despite trusting my gut on where to find the mysterious cave, I'm grateful I'm not walking alone. Mikk holds my hands as we trek over creaks swirling with glacier water and sweeps branches high over my head so I can pass. We walk mostly in silence, letting the silence of nature be the soundtrack to our adventure.

As we lean against a boulder for a short pause to drink and breathe, I break the silence with a question that has been lurking in the back of my mind since last night.

"How can you believe me, Mikk?" I blurt out. "Like, you didn't even question my words yesterday, even though I know how crazy this must sound."

"Why would I question you, Saga?" His gaze is fastened in the distance, looking over bays that are scattered with ice now, in the midst of summer. "I mean, I see no reason why you would make up such a story, so then the logical conclusion is that you're telling the truth."

"I'm not sure there's anything logical about this story," I mumble, finding his hand for strength. "This is all madness."

"Logic may not look the same here on Greenland as elsewhere." Mikk cradles my hand in his, warming my already numb fingers. "And this is not the first time I've heard a tale of a bear acting in unexpected ways. So that may have made your story easier to believe."

I raise an eyebrow. "What weird tales have you heard of bears before?" I ask, relieved I might not be the only one on these shores who is missing a few marbles.

"My grandma told me many stories when I grew up. Most of them were just that: stories. Tales told for generations that were meant to teach us about the world around us. But one story always seemed more real. I asked her to tell me that story every time I visited as I child. I couldn't get enough of it."

"What was the story?"

"It was her own story. Nana told me about when she was just a small girl, probably not more than seven or eight, and she walked home from school along the shoreline. Back then, there were no busses or anything so she walked an hour each way every day. Fall was turning to winter and the rocks closest to the water became slick with ice. So as she skipped along, like kids do, she slipped and fell into the cold abyss. With the water approaching freezing, a child wouldn't last long before drowning."

"But she survived?"

"Well, I'm here aren't I?" Mikk smiles, making me feel a bit silly for the dumb question. Obviously, his grandma must have made it through the ordeal. "This was the part of the story I loved as a child because it was just so magical. Nana told me about feeling something tug at her coat to pull her out of the water. She remembered sharp teeth against her neck, gently carrying her to safety. When she opened her eyes, she lay on the ground, wet to the core, and saw a giant white polar bear look back at her. After that, she must have passed out. Her father found her shortly thereafter, soaked but alive, and hurried her back home."

"The bear saved her?"

"That's what my grandma claimed. But maybe she was just delirious from the cold. Perhaps she saved herself. That's how I used to explain it at least. Until..." His eyes waver, looking away from me toward the sea in the distance.

"Until what?"

"Promise you won't find me silly."

"I think we're way past silly, Mikkel." I let my hand flick through the curls at the nape of his neck.

A sweet smile adorns his lips as he turns to me. "Only my mom uses my full name," he notes, his nose crinkling slightly. "Makes me feel like I'm getting scolded."

"Well, I'm not scolding you." I move his worn baseball cap out of the way to sneak in a kiss of assurance. "But after everything I've told you, I think you should trust me to believe in your words. I won't laugh at you."

"Sorry, you are of course right. I do trust you." He leans in for another quick kiss before starting his story. "I just haven't told anyone this before. It happened right after Nora left Greenland. I was alone and bitter at myself for fucking things up. So one night, I just went into the wilderness. I didn't even have proper outside gear on me. And I got lost."

"I thought you knew your way around the wilderness?"

"I do... but I was young, dumb, and also a bit drunk."

"A lethal combination."

"One that's killed many young men. But I didn't die. Not that I can thank myself for that, as I definitely tried my best to perish. I just walked randomly into the cold night and suddenly realized I had no idea where I was. As I sobered up, I tried to find my way but everywhere I turned there was only snow. And that's when the polar bear appeared."

"There's always a bear," I mumble. "That's certainly my experience of Greenland at least."

"First I was afraid of the animal, but it didn't seem inclined to attack. The bear just walked slowly away from me. Thinking it may walk toward the shoreline, from where I could find my way to civilization, I cautiously followed it. And suddenly, after many hours, my parents' house appeared in the distance. The bear had led me back home. But when I looked toward it again, the animal was gone. So maybe it was just the liquor talking all along."

"You don't really believe that though, do you?"

He shakes his head. "No, I believe the bear was real. I believe it looked out for me when I couldn't myself."

"Then so do I." I flick my fingers through hair that is starting to curl from sweat. The strands stand up in a way that is quite adorable, which compels me to kiss him again. We're never going to get to this cave if we keep kissing at this frequency. "Should we get going?"

Mikk snatches his hat back from my grasp but sneaks in another kiss before placing it upon his now-messy hair. "Let's do it." He rises from the boulder and reaches a hand toward me.

We follow my hunch once again, walking on a rarely traversed path upward, beyond the treeline. Scattered snow lay on the rocks, making the path slippery. The sky above is light gray, and so is the ground below us. All the color of the landscape has disappeared into a dreary fog.

That's where we meet him, between heaven and earth. Björn. He stands in the liminal space where everything is possible.

White fur blends into the pale backdrop. I know it's him. His eyes, his posture, and his desperate gaze are the same, no matter the skin he wears. He's come to show us to his cave.

Author's Note: This chapter turned out a bit fluffier than expected, but I hope that is alright :). The werebear shenanigans will continue in the next chapter.