Chapter Two

.

I find myself in an endless void. Ink black smothers like a blanket, isolating me in a world of nothing.

Then, from within the nothing, appears something.

Pinpricks of light materialize in the far distance, numbering in the thousands. They are small, faint dots of hope. At least I have company now.

I blink.

The previously stationary lights are triggered into motion. They go streaking over, under, and around me, flying by at alarming speed. Or maybe it's me that's doing the flying? Who knows. I certainly have no clue.

The lights, the speed, the sheer unknown is too much all at once. My fingernails claw into the chair's armrests. No doubt I'm leaving indentations in the wood of this priceless piece of history. It can't be helped. I'm terrified of what might happen if I were to fall out of this thing.

Without warning, all movement stops, like a car hitting its brakes. My head whips forward and subsequently slams back into the chair.

I black out.

Reawakening is a slow, grueling process.

My head is light as a feather, and the grogginess is unreal. It takes great effort to force my eyelids open. And when I finally accomplish this once seemingly impossible task, I immediately regret it. A growing part of me wonders if I should just go ahead and close my eyes again. It would certainly save me a great, big headache. Because instead of the fancy rug of the library, there is a carpet of dry grass at my feet. Walls made of living trees surround me. And the ceiling... it's the bluest sky I've ever seen.

This definitely isn't the library anymore. The chair and I are in the middle of a forest clearing.

The sun is below the tops of the trees. I'm not sure if it's rising or setting. Either way, it doesn't make sense. I glanced out a window a few minutes ago. It was dark outside. Somehow, it is day again already. Did at least a dozen hours pass without me being aware of it?

Weirder still, the museum is nowhere in sight. Nothing I'm familiar with is around. This is London, for Christ's sake. There ought to be houses, businesses, streets... people. Even if I somehow ended up at a city park, I should still hear the sounds of traffic. So, where in the heck did everyone go?

Or, perhaps it's better to ask, where did I go?

I leave the chair to search for answers. Where the glade meets the forest is what I investigate first. Spiky green conifers reminiscent of Christmas trees are the predominant species. A few young oaks are scattered between the larger, faster growing softwoods. Their foliage is a beautiful yellow orange. I watch as one leaf falls gracefully to the ground.

It was early summer when I woke up this morning. The weather was comfortably warm. Flowers were in bloom. But look at it now. There's a chill in the air. Plants are readying themselves for dormancy.

Autumn has arrived.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Unsurprisingly, my strategy for remaining calm is not working so great. This is worse than I thought. An entire season went by without me knowing. Which, of course, is completely impossible! I must be having a severe nervous breakdown.

I need help.

I pull out my phone to dial the emergency number. I'm sure whoever answers will know what to do when a person (such as myself) is in a mental health crisis. They'll ask what the problem is and I'll explain the situation as best as I can: I sat in a chair and it took me on a magical journey.

It should be easy sailing from there.

The dispatcher will trace my current location thanks to my phone. Next, a police officer will come rescue me. Maybe even a helicopter will show up since I'm lost in the woods. It's likely I'll be taken to a hospital. Some nice, handsome doctor there will tell me the chair ride and forest were figments of my imagination. His no nonsense approach will cure me of all my unhealthy delusions. Then, we'll fall in love and live happily ever after.

Sounds awesome. Let's get this show on the road.

My optimistic outlook doesn't pan out. The call refuses to go through. No signal.

Tendrils of fear grow stronger and deeper. Something very wrong is going on here. I'm alone in a strange place with no way to communicate with the outside world. It's like I'm trapped in a nightmare or something.

Hmm. A nightmare...

That's it! I'm dreaming.

Why didn't I think of this sooner? I bet when I took that little break from cleaning the museum, I fell asleep in Alistair's chair. It explains everything!

Confusing a dream with reality, Bella? Ha! So dumb.

My self-deprecating laughter is drowned out by a deep rumbling. I think it's coming from behind me. I'm no expert, but it sounds very much like an engine. Yet, a voice of reason tells me this isn't mechanical in nature. This is a monster's growl.

Goosebumps cover me all the way to the tips of my toes. Even though I dread it, I force myself to turn around.

On the opposite side of the glade is a mountain of shaggy brown fur. Curved ivory tusks sit on either side of a long, flexible trunk. The skull of the creature alone looks to be near the same size as my entire body.

I pinch my arm, each twist to my skin becoming progressively harder. "Wake up, stupid," I hiss. "A pissed off wooly mammoth is standing over there. Open your damn eyes before he decides to take his anger out on you!"

The animal releases an earth-shaking roar. I go frozen, eyes wide with fright. The universe seems to pause with me.

That illusion shatters much too soon. The mammoth barrels in my direction with the force of a freight train. Only one thing stands between myself and a grisly death.

The chair.

I watch in horror as it's crushed underneath tons of stomping feet. Nothing is left except a pile of splinters. The sight of the destruction snaps me out of my stupor. If a sturdy chair can be broken that quick, imagine how easy it would be to break me.

I take off running for my life.

The forest is my only chance for escape. I weave through the trees, praying the fact they grow close together will block the giant from pursuing me. However, that isn't the case. The obstacles only slow him down. He plows through the younger pine and oaks as though they are matchsticks.

My legs ache. My lungs burn. The more I exhaust myself, the clumsier I become. Rocks, roots, and fallen branches bring me down with frightening regularity. Each time this happens, I have to scramble to get up before the mammoth makes a pancake out of me. One particularly nasty fall slits my palm. Although the injury is small, it bleeds profusely. The sting of it comes as an epiphany.

"Not a dream!" I pant as I run. "Definitely not a dream."

It feels like I've covered a marathon's distance. Without slowing my pace, I check the mammoth's whereabouts over my shoulder. I have a good lead at the moment. I don't see him anywhere... but I can't let my guard down yet. I still hear him stomping through the forest. Additionally, the trees in this section are spaced farther apart. It's mostly bushes and other small plants here, which is not good. Less obstacles mean that evil Snuffleupagus will be able to move faster.

Once again, I aim my sights straight ahead... just in time to collide face-first into something hard.

"Ugh!"

I fall backwards on my butt. The world spins. I'm surprised I don't have those cartoon stars circling around my head. I shake off the disorientation and look upward. My jaw drops. What I ran into isn't a tree, rock, or animal. There's fur, all right... but I also see skin. The filthy face of a man hides behind a thick, rusty beard. He wears an animal's fur as a cape... like a crazy person. It's draped around his shoulders and tied at the neck.

The weirdo just stands there, towering over me in absolute silence.

Our mutual astonishment is broken when he takes a cautious step forward. One of his hands extends from his side. When I realize he is reaching for me, I suck in a breath.

Cue the loudest of screams.

He stops in his tracks and cocks his head. While he is distracted, I crawl backwards like a crab. I have to get away! He could be a serial killer or something. If I'm not careful, he might use my hide as his next cape - and I'm sure as hell not going to let him turn me into some dumb fashion accessory.

I only manage to get a few feet away when a much bigger problem comes pounding through the underbrush.

The mammoth has found me, and he is not happy.

He slides to a stop nearby and gives me a threatening glare. I stand up slow as a snail from where I fell. I'm hoping he won't charge until after I'm running again. At the same time, crazy man snatches something from the ground. It is a long stick with a pointed rock attached to the end. He then goes on to prove how mentally unstable he is when he marches confidently toward the mammoth.

I don't believe this. He's confronting that thing with only a spear! Does he have a death wish?

The man yells in gibberish. He also waves the spear above his head... again, like a crazy person. The mammoth snorts and paws the ground, sending dirt flying behind. Neither of them attacks. They appear to be sizing each other up.

Peace, however, is fleeting. The mammoth charges. Crazy man stands his ground until the animal is practically on top of him. That's when he jabs with the spear.

Disaster strikes. The mammoth's trunk flails at this exact moment, colliding with the weapon.

The spear is flung far from crazy man's grip. Retrieving it is out of the question. The mammoth would never allow it. Escape is equally impossible - and I think the man knows it. The fear on his face is unmistakable. All he can do is brace himself for the inevitable trampling... until the most dreaded sound in all of history interrupts.

Beep, beep... beeep. Beep, beep... beeep.

Shit. My phone alarm!

Both man and beast pause in their showdown, their eyes glued to me. I scramble to stop the infernal noise before more unwanted attention is drawn my way. Naturally, I'm not that lucky. The beeping gets louder once the phone is freed from the confines of my pocket.

This does not help in calming the situation.

The mammoth must hate the alarm more than I do - and I'm the one who has to wake up to it every morning. He begins backing away while making a trumpeting commotion. My nerves are so rattled, my fumbling fingers succeed in dropping my phone not once but twice. By the time I've successfully shut off the damn beeping, Mister Scaredy Pants has already beat a hasty retreat.

That leaves just me and the crazy man.

He and I are caught in a staring match, both waiting for the other to make the first move. A minute goes by. The stranger ends the stalemate by doing the most baffling thing possible.

He fucking smiles.

A set of surprisingly white teeth are under that scraggly beard and dirty face. Smiling seems a friendly enough reaction, I admit, but I refuse to relax in his presence. For all I know, serial killers might take pride in showing off their excellent dental care.

He walks this way. I remain where I am. The only reason why I haven't run yet is because, A) he tried fighting a wooly mammoth for me, and B) he is unarmed. I'll at least give him a chance to explain himself. However, if he does anything too weird, I'm junk punching him before I make my escape.

He stops right in front of me. With no warning, he falls to his knees. Pine green eyes stare deeply into my own. It makes me uneasy. No one's ever looked at me this way before, like I've hung the sun and the moon. What if he's a stalker in the making? I take a step backwards just to be safe.

"Um. Whatever you're doing isn't going to work. I have a boyfriend." This is a big fat lie, of course. I haven't had an actual boyfriend since high school. Saying you have a boyfriend is a standard tactic when you are receiving unwanted attention. It's important for crazy man to understand he has no chance with me.

He continues groveling at my feet. My attempt at letting him down gently is a fail.

I huff. "This isn't a good look for you, buddy. Save your dignity." I jerk my thumb a couple of times. "Get up."

His eyebrows draw together. Oh so slowly, he rises from the ground and waits for further instructions. Since there's nothing trying to kill us at the moment, I take the opportunity to study him. Fur cape, clothing made of some type of rough fiber, and a general unkempt appearance. Even the "shoes" on his feet look to be made from things found in nature.

Hmm. Now, I don't want to jump to conclusions or anything, but this guy... He's giving me major caveman vibes.

That's the dumbest thought I've ever had.

Isn't it?

Worry starts creeping in. I've been so busy, I haven't had the chance to fully absorb what's been happening up until now. Let's see. So far I've ridden a magic chair, found myself in an unknown forest, bumped literally into a hairy stranger, and an extinct animal tried to kill me. All this occurred in less time it takes for me to commute to work. When I compare everything I have experienced, the conclusion seems too farfetched. I refuse to even entertain it.

There has to be another explanation. There just has to!

"Hi." I give the man a dorky wave in greeting. "I know we got off on the wrong foot, but - uh - can I ask a question? Is this place a Jurassic Park rip-off? That wooly mammoth animatronic was very life-like. Did you guys have that fight choreographed?" I manage a nervous giggle. "Nice costume, by the way."

He doesn't laugh at my pathetic attempt at humor. A succession of words come pouring from his mouth. I cannot identify any of them.

"Excuse me," I croak. "I only speak English. I don't understand what you're saying."

No reaction. He continues to look as lost as I feel.

Oh no. He doesn't understand me either. Could it really be true? Did that chair send me back thousands of years into the past?

Nuh-uh. No way. That sort of thing happens only in science fiction. There has to be another reason why he doesn't understand me. Think, think, think.

I know!

The chair only teleported me somewhere else on the planet. Like Siberia. They have frozen mammoths there, right? One probably thawed and came back to life. Yeah. Totally possible. And this guy is just some rando who happens to live in Siberia too.

I set up a test to prove my theory.

I bring my phone out of hiding and show him the screen. My wallpaper is nothing special. Yet, this guy is gasping at the very sight of sleepy kittens curled up in a basket. Even his eyes are bulging from their sockets.

People living in Siberia would have knowledge of modern day technology. But crazy man... It's clear he has never come across a smart phone before.

Rising panic chokes me. Fingernails claw into my scalp. I pace back and forth, whispering to myself. "This can't be happening. No, no, no. I'm in the ice age... I'm trapped in the fucking ice age!"

As I'm falling into madness, a warm hand stops me from yanking all my hair out. Crazy man tilts my chin to meet his worried gaze. Honestly, I should probably stop calling him that. He seems less crazy than me at the moment.

"Damara," he breathes soothingly.

He holds my hand. When he gives a gentle squeeze, I wince. My reaction confuses him. Carefully, he turns over my palm. The wound there continues to bleed. Weird. I had forgotten all about it.

He frowns. "Kuerzi da."

He lets go of me in order to dig through the small pouch hanging from his waist. A leaf with tiny hairs all over it is applied to my cut. He then wraps a leather cord around my hand, securing the leaf.

I blink my amazement. He bandaged me up with a freaking leaf. And you know what? It feels good. The leaf is soft and absorbent. Somehow, the dull sting of my cut isn't as noticeable either.

"Thank you," I tell him.

I suppose the tone of my voice conveys my gratitude. The corner of his mouth lifts into a half smile. Our moment ends when a gust of wind blows through. It chills me to the bone. My thin shirt and jeans are no match.

The man looks to the sky as I shiver. The sun is definitely lower than it was earlier. Night is coming, and it's coming quick.

He points in a easterly direction, toward a place I have not yet explored. "Uezzi. Pahhur ma ānz da."

I shrug, reminding him that I have no idea what he's trying to say. In response, he waves his hand in the universal signal to follow him.

I back away warily. "No! I mean... No offence. You seem like a decent person and all. But, um, it wouldn't be wise for me to just follow you to wherever. Ever heard of stranger danger? I don't know you, you don't know me..."

A menacing howl drowns out my rambling speech. The hair on the nape of my neck stands on end. Instinctively, I step closer to the man. "What in the hell was that? Don't tell me there's a wolf in this wooded hellscape?!"

His hand clamps over my mouth to shut me up. The distant howl is soon answered by another wolf, one that's much too close.

Crap. We might be dealing with a whole pack of them!

He removes his hand from my face. There's a trace of concern back in his eyes. "Kuwaās," he whispers.

The man jogs to retrieve his fallen spear. He continually scans the forest surrounding us even after he returns armed with a weapon. For a third time, he jabs a finger eastward, entreating me to follow. "Uezzi. Nuntara!"

I chew my lower lip and mull over my present dilemma. Should I go and spend the night with a primitive stranger, one who wouldn't know an Apple from an Android? Or, should I stay where I am, die from hypothermia, and thereby feed a pack of hungry wolves with my frozen carcass?

Hmm. Tough decision.

Yeah, right. Who am I kidding?

I release a long-winded sigh. "All right, Tarzan. Lead the way."

00000000000000000000

A/N - In honor of Bella meeting this wild man, I will show off my "cave person" language skills. Ready? Here it goes:

Hrm. Reviews good. Silence make sad. Me want hear your thoughts.

Happy New Year! And, thanks for reading. :-)