"No, no! The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time." -Lewis Carroll

That was all it took to nearly drop the worn pages, bound together by more than just leather; the words were unified in their mockery of me.

In my hands, I held the key to my father's stories, which were apparently more worth their salt than than I ever would have imagined. That being said, the foreign language looked back at me from the yellowed pages, and it laughed at my ignorance.

Simply staring at the words wasn't going to make me magically understand them. Before I could even begin to learn from its contents, I'd first need to figure out the language it was written in. Even that was a fat chance, so I opened the drawer to my night stand and placed it inside, putting all this nonsense to rest for the night.

Absently, I rubbed my fingers over the sapphire around my neck. In that moment, I couldn't help but wonder, 'What secrets did it hold? Who were all of the women who wore it before me?' The questions kept stacking up. How had my life become such a freaking puzzle?

A knock at my bedroom door scattered my thoughts. "Come in," I yelled through the closed door. Then again, maybe I shouldn't have made assumptions about who was at my door these days.

Luckily, it was just my mom. A mop of fiery red hair appeared in the doorway when she poked her head in to let me know dinner was ready. She retreated to the dining area.

I washed up in the bathroom, splashing water on my face. Dewy drops fell from my lashes to land upon my freckled cheeks. Upon reflection, I realized I still looked the same, though I felt that I should have noticed some sort of difference from how I was just days ago.

After all, so many things had happened in my life. Not to mention, all of the horrors of the world, which predated my existence but of which I was constantly reminded. How was I supposed to successfully circumnavigate this world, and maintain my sanity? I could hardly walk through a door without accidentally walking through a portal, or whatever.

There I stood, staring at myself in the mirror—a clichéd Alice Through The Looking Glass. I even had blonde hair. I placed my fingers against the smooth surface. My reflection took control of its mirrored world.

It smiled menacingly at me. My fingers twitched, reaching for the dagger at my thigh. I didn't know if it would do me much good, though.

"Wake up," it whispered.

"What?" I asked myself, literally. It didn't have a chance to respond, though, because the mirror shattered, mirror-me along with it.

The floor beneath me gave way and I quickly forgot everything else except for the falling. I fell through floor and ceiling and earth and sky until I landed feet first on the ground. My knees nearly buckled from the shock of impact. A flock of black birds cawed and scattered. Mountain peaks rose up to touch the sky all around me.

Before me, stood a giant wolf. It rivaled my height, and it was the purest snow white. Claw scars marked an ice blue eye, but the eye it watched me with was muddy brown. It was the most beautiful example of heterochromia that I'd ever seen in real life (if you could even call this real life).

The moon shone through the mountain mist. I could feel the beast's hot breath on my face. Terror struck my heart and I tried in vain to slow its beating. We stood like that for an immeasurable amount of time. It could have been a minute, or an hour. My breath hitched in my throat.

The spell broke when a branch snapped, drawing our attention away from one another. Its seeing eye shifted its focus until it landed on something or someone behind me. I was too afraid to turn my back on it, though I was curious all the same.

"Anicka?" The voice was clearly directed at the wolf.

Its tail wagged upon hearing its name. It ran past me and the mountain flowers at my feet. I spun around in the same instant. The wolf greeted a dark, sun-kissed girl with long, black hair woven into intricate braids. A beaded necklace with a crescent moon pendant hung from her neck.

She spoke in a language that sounded like song. Being monolingual was really kicking me in the pants lately.

The girl—who couldn't have been older than seventeen—pet the massive arctic wolf like it was as non-threatening as a puppy. She wore tanned animal hide as clothing, and had soft leather covering her feet as well. She had black tribal tattoos all over her body, even parts of her face. She carried herself like a confident woman in her prime, not like a teenager at all. She held her chin up, chest out, shoulders back. She looked like proud royalty when she climbed on the back of Anicka, who turned back to look at me.

I thought the girl saw me too, momentarily, but she looked right through me, like anyone else would have in this world. Or so I thought, until she spoke. "Are you coming, or not?"

I gestured to my chest. "Are you talking to me?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Who else?" Her voice was heavily accented. She didn't seem impatient but I couldn't very well keep her waiting. It seemed unwise.

So, anyway, that's the story of how I ended up on the back of a rather large arctic wolf. Once she took off, I grabbed onto whatever I could. First, I tried holding onto her fur but it was too difficult so I ended up wrapping my arms around the girl's waist. My body was pressed against her soft skin. I struggled to maintain pure thoughts. This girl had to be years younger than me, after all. Still, her skin glowed in the moonlight and she smelled of dirt and evergreens.

Anicka ran us through the forest—past critters who hid from her, past streams and brooks, past saplings and great conifers. We dashed over a log that was used as a bridge to cross the creek. We skirted the edge of the mountain and felt the cascading waterfall on our backs as we traveled underneath it. We soon arrived at the mouth of a cave and I took the girl's lead in dismounting the wolf.

Bones hung from the trees above the entrance. Piles of skulls were arranged on either side...and I don't think that was ketchup squirted all over the rocks.. A fresher head was mounted on a pike. Its eyes weren't human. I stared at it long enough for the girl to feel the need to say something.

"Dragon," was all she gave by way of explanation. I was too dumbstruck to ask questions, which would no doubt haunt me later.

She lit a torch and motioned for me to follow her into the unknown. Against my better judgement, I did. With a wolf at our backs, we descended into the dank, dark cave. I could hear the dripping of water, gentle like the beginning of a song. Beams of light shone through holes from above. The air turned cool when the light of the torch was the only thing lighting our way.

The girl did not speak again, nor did her feet make a sound. The two of them tread quietly; meanwhile, I knocked into every rock in my path, like a bumbling clutz. The sound of my footsteps was soon masked by a rhythmic beating, which grew louder throughout our descent. The sounds of water also rose in volume. An underground river was close by.

The cave opened up dramatically when we turned a corner. The girl set down the torch in a holder that rose from the ground. It was now only one of the light sources illuminating the darkness of the cave. There were several of the torch stands, forming a circle around the room, placed along the walls.

A bonfire was lit alongside the wall furthest from where we entered. Spirals of smoke escaped through an opening behind it. A crowd gathered around the fire. There was chanting, dancing, and the playing of drums. The drums had animal hide pulled taut over them. I could hear other instruments too, like wooden flutes being played.

There were several tents and pelt rugs laid out in various places around the room. There were also merchants selling wares in tents: weapons, food, crafts, etc. The room was massive and filled with life and laughter.

More wolves were here. Some slept on the pelts. Some guarded the entrances. There were even children playing with puppies. A naked child bared its teeth at one of the puppies and played with it like it was a dog, too. Anicka stayed by our side while we made our way through the crowd of people. One by one, people stopped what they were doing to stare.

A fish merchant chopping his catch stopped mid swing. A child playing with a toy on string dropped it to stare. A mother feeding her infant gawked. A boisterous man drinking from a goat's horn paused mid story.

They had to be staring at her, except they all stared like paparazzi poised to capture a moment of juicy gossip from someone notable. This girl blended in with them, but I did not.

I decided to focus on the scenery instead. Stalagmites and stalactites flirted with each other, wrote each other love notes from afar. The river peeked out of one tunnel and exited through yet another. The closer we got to the fire, the more apparent cave drawings on the walls became.

They were simplistic sketches: white on a dark rocky background. There were painted humans, unicorns, wolves, faeries, dragons.. Battles were recorded. Hunting and fishing and feasts and famine were portrayed. There were too many scenes to process.

We finally reached the group before the fire. An elderly man with long, silver double braids met my eyes. He wore many beaded necklaces. The longest one held a wooden carving of a wolf. He had on the fanciest garb here. His long-sleeved leather tunic was painted and beaded, as were his matching pants. He had soft leather boots and a headdress made of beads and feathers. He took a long drag off of his wooden pipe, decorated with more of the same. "Shanti," he said, his tone reverent. He never broke eye contact with me.

Several cave dwellers repeated him. "Shanti, shanti, shanti."

"What does that mean?" I asked the girl, but she was no longer next to me. Traitor. She made her way to the old man and touched his cheek lovingly. They exchanged foreign words.

Anicka remained beside me. I stroked her head for comfort.

All eyes were on me. Men, women, children, and wolves all had their attention on me. This tribe of people all chanted "Shanti." The wolves howled with them but still no one told me what it meant. Anicka leaned her head into my hand.

I felt so alone in their sea of voices, save for the one beside me who remained silent. Their arms were outstretched toward me, praying to me or praying for me. I wasn't sure. Their voices were lifted higher until my thoughts were drowned out by them.

The voices were soon cancelled out by one singular voice. "Riona." No.

The fingers of one hand were still pressed to the glass, the other hand on my dagger. My reflection was still. Damn it! I had come so close to getting some kind of answer to what was happening to me.

"You okay in there, dear?" my mom asked through the locked door.

I hardly missed a beat. "Yeah, can't a girl shit in peace around here?" I shouted at her.

She didn't sound pleased, understandably. "All right, but your dinner's going to get cold." Her footsteps retreated down the hall.

In my mind's eye, I saw the wolf with its one blind eye. Shaking my head, I sunk to the floor. My fists were in tight balls. "If there is a god," I pleaded, "Could you not be so fucking cryptic?"

I pulled the slightly bent, heavy matte business card out of my pocket and regarded it apprehensively, then shoved it back into my jeans and went to have dinner with my mom. She tried to talk to me but I shut her out.

The food tasted like dust on my lips. I shoveled it down all the same and hurried to my room as soon as I could. I locked it behind me. Leona jumped up onto my bed and laid on my pillow.

Once again, I retrieved the card with his number on it. I pulled out my smartphone and created a contact for him. I opened a new message and typed out several different beginnings of a conversation before erasing them all. All I sent in the end was, "Come throw pebbles at my window, and maybe I'll let you in."