The Impossible Girl Ch. 01

A note from the author (boring stuff):

I'm not entirely sure how well this will encode online, but only time will tell. Angelica speaks English, however it has been transcribed differently to normal; using different characters formerly used in old English, and some others which I have taken to replace other common sounds in our language. (Note: these sounds are from a Northern-English dialect, thus sounds may sound different to R.P or Standard American). The reason for the addition of these characters is to subtly alter the sound of Angelica's speech and to create a sense of difference to Jessica's. A brief (and rough) translation follows:

Ð ð The <th> sound from "that", "this" and "the"

Þ þ The <th> sound from "thought", "bath" and "death"

Ʃ ʃ The <sh> sound from "shut", "shark" and "should"

Ƿ ƿ The <wh> sound from "what", "where" and "when" (note: aspirate the <w>)

Ç ç The <ch> sound from "chocolate", "chance" and "chop"

Ŋ ŋ The <ng> sound from "cunning", "running" and "jumping"

Æ æ The <a> sound in "cat", "fat" and "sat"

Å å The <a> sound found in "all", "fall" and "altogether"

I have also used <ff> where a <f> is normally used; this is due to the fact that in a language such as Welsh <f> makes a <v> sound, whereas <ff> makes a <f> sound; such as in the English word <of> compared to <off>.

Another note from the author:

This is the beginning of a romance, not wild sex. The wild sex will come later. The only reason that this doesn't get so far sexually is because it would be too long; I want to write something substantial. Treat it like a chapter; then move straight onto part two. Please indulge me in my desire for the poetic, rather than the raunchy. I don't particularly care that this one won't receive a massive score ratings-wise.

But for those of you who enjoy the finer things in life; enjoy!

The strange polar twilight lit the land of eternal cold; the great ice-shelf that lay beneath the mountains of iron stone and under the dull leaden sky.

They said that on a clear day one could see uncanny lights flickering in the heavens; that at those times it was the land of creatures supernatural: the silkie; the sea-girl with the flesh of a seal, who would lurk at the precipitous edges, where ice met water, basking in the unnatural glow. The Vila; daughter of storms and swans, who sped with the geese on feathered wing on whatever unknown journey they made. Scheznyk; the killer, destroyer, disappearer of wanderers; of ghostly form she took, stalking the wastes to take the unwary.

Yet presently it snowed. It had snowed for two hundred hours. It would likely snow for two hundred more.

I felt no danger from eerie existence, nor feared for my life that it should be taken by the inexplicable. Greater the threat from wolves, thin ice and the cold.

The rest of my people lay one hundred miles behind; I had chosen to travel ahead of the main party, seeking out the herds of wild reindeer, snow elephants and other such creatures destined to be tamed or eaten, so that they may be better caught later.

One girl, a "tracer", who travelled alone, companied only by her sleigh dog team and the yawning vastness of the wilderness. Food, furs, knife and a rifle.

It was a statement; eighteen, desperate to prove my worth, my autonomy, my humanity. Just old enough to trace alone. A stupid decision. Not a naïve decision; for I knew myself and, as far as one could, I knew the land. Yet somehow fated.

It had been a difficult trail; not impossible, but barely manageable; coercing the dogs and sleigh across a boulder field thirty miles wide. I had woven a slow path between the larger rocks, dragged my entire baggage through the smaller. I was getting tired and the dogs were slowing; perhaps in the lands of day and night, light and dark, the sun was setting; out here such human constructs could not survive. I pressed ahead a little longer, promising to stop shortly and set my yurt.

When I was but a little girl I could have believed the stories the old wise women told; the fantastical tales of vila and silkie. But on that day I met the impossible; the truly unimaginable. A girl, naked in the snow.

The dogs came across her first, drawn to her foil in the freezing air. In truth, even I could smelt it, despite a nose feeling as of ice and the subtleness of the scent. The smell of alien flowers of some far off land. She lay face down in a great drift, the snow having been billowed out as if she had fallen heavily. A parachute of bright orange silk blossomed out behind her like a flame, perhaps desperately trying to escape; some peculiar foreign bird in my polar wind.

An impossible girl; unconscious but alive. Perhaps only having lain there for minutes. Any longer and she would have been dead. Tanned skin pale with cold, dark hair laced with ice crystals. I wrapped her in furs, lit a fire, and built the yurt about where she had fallen.

She lay there seemingly for an age. Skin slowly becoming ruddier. At first I tried to rub life back into her limbs but eventually I sat across the fire to her, drinking hot tea and watching her.

Not older than me. Perhaps very much the same age. A face of perfect prettiness, long locks, my skin snow white, hers a warmer shade. I wondered, from the other side of the fire, what colour her eyes might be. Not steely grey as mine; for her hair was auburn, not creamy white like I. I prayed that she might speak the same tongue as I, so that I may ask how she came to be lain upon the snow, fallen from the sky, nude. Slim, cultivated from a life of careful living, rather than physical exertion; perhaps not a girl, perhaps rather an icon of femininity. In her unconscious stupor her countenance was lit by a beautiful expression. A recent scar ran across her breasts.

'Åm…?'

The impossible girl's first utterance. A soft gentle noise of incomprehension. Her eyes opened: a gorgeous chestnut brown.

'How are you feeling?' I said, voice cracking with recent under use.

'Åm… ƿere æm I?'

She spoke strangely; understandable, but with an accent I had not heard before.

'Safe now…'

I stood to go closer to her. She flinched back and tried in a flurry of activity to sit. I moved back. Her confusion was unusually comely.

'But ƿere æm I? Saffe isn't a place…'

'You're out of danger, anyway. You're on the ice shelf below the Eastern Mountains'

'Ƿere's ðæt?'

'You don't know?'

'No…'

'What can you remember of how you came to be here?'

A wolf howled somewhere in the distance. She shivered.

'Ƿy æm I so cold?'

'We're only seventy miles south of the pole…'

'Ðe arctic?'

I nodded.

'How did you get here? Can you remember anything before?'

'Not muç. Æ passenger cabin… åm… æ fight…'

'The scar upon your breast…'

'Åh…'

She looked down under the furs, suddenly seeming to realise she was nude. Her face flushed with anger.

'Ƿere did you put my cloðes!? Ƿy've you taken ðem!?'

'I didn't: we can go out and look for them later, perhaps, if they're not four feet under the snow'

She fell back with fatigue.

'Ƿy aren't I dead?' she whispered to herself.

'I don't know. I found you. You had fallen as you are now. Just an orange parachute'

'I'm sorry. Ðis… doesn't make any sense…'

'Can you remember your name?'

She thought for a moment.

'Ængelicæ… I þink'

'Jessica'

'Åh… I'm sorry. Ʃit, I can't think of anything. Åm… þænk you. Ffor saviŋ my liffe I mean'

'Please, don't worry about it'

I stood and went and knelt beside her.

'If you remember anything. Just tell me. I'll see if I can get you home'

Her reply was a small, quiet sound

'Þænk you'

'You need to sleep. We both need to sleep'

I gave her a mug of hot stew to drink while I prepared for bed.

I began to undress, removing layer after layer of thick furs and piling them neatly, away from the fire, on a dry sheet. When I was completely naked, I turned to Angelica and saw that she had covered her eyes with one hand and held the furs tightly about her with the other.

'What's up?'

'Åm, just ƿere I come ffrom we aren't so… open, nudity-wise…'

'Oh! I'm so, so sorry. But we really have to be close out here'

I stood by the fire for a moment before continuing.

'Look, you can take your hand down if you don't feel uncomfortable with it'

Slowly she slid her hand away, but kept the other holding the furs tightly.

'Åm… ðis ffeels straŋe, I'm sorry'

'Okay, but I'm going to need to get into bed too. I can't stand here all night…'

'Go æhead…'

'Well, I would, but you're being rather jealous with the blankets…'

She looked down.

'We ʃare?'

'Erm… yes. To conserve body heat…?'

'Åh… do we hæve to… cuddle?'

'If you don't want to die particularly'

'Åh God. Well, okay…'

'I'm sorry if you feel uncomfortable…'

'I understænd. I'll just hæve to get over it'

'Thank you for being so understanding'

I climbed under the furs with her, and she turned away, I only momentarily caught a flash of her chest and the cut that ran across it.

I held her in my arms; at first she lay stiff and uncomfortable, but gradually she relaxed, becoming accustomed to my touch. Her skin was still cold and I rather think she needed my warmth to keep her conscious. I kissed her hair, upon the crown. It still smelt of exotic flowers.

She tried to turn her head towards me. She asked, very softly

'Ƿat was ðe kiss ffor?'

'Oh…' I replied caught out. 'It was automatic. It's just something we do out here'

'I liked it. It wæs comffortiŋ'

She turned back and relaxed. I felt her legs fidget, brush against mine and then pull back hurriedly. There was quiet. Not silence; but instead the unique hush of the wilderness. The flump of snow, the fire burning down, the sniffle of sleeping dogs. Then, Angelica's gentle voice.

'Jessicæ…?'

'Yes?'

'Iff you hædn't ffound me so soon… how loŋ until I would hæve died?'

'Minutes. I think being unconscious helped. Kept your body on "standby"'

'I wæs ålready unconscious?'

'It looks as if you gave yourself a nasty crack on the head when you landed'

'Ðank you ægain'

'Really, it's nothing'

A moment of quiet. Then another slow conversation.

'I've never done ðis beffore'

'Free-fallen naked?'

'Slept wið a girl…'

'There's a first time for everything'

'You?'

'Never with a girl my age. Before; with my mother or older female relatives. Later, with younger sisters and cousins'

'Åh'

She seemed to think for a while.

'Ænd you like it?'

I considered the situation momentarily. It was true. I hadn't thought of it up until now. I was enjoying it. More than I felt comfortable with.

'Um… sort of'

'I… æm…': a confession

'Oh'

I felt her hand upon my thigh. It had crept there unnoticed. I waited to see what it would do. Nothing. Just remained planted upon my inner leg, temptingly soft. I kissed her hair again.

'Your hair smells sweet. Do you know what it is?'

'Ƿat smell?'

She couldn't tell, having become used to it. It was her smell; ground in.

'A smell like flowers. A nice smell'

'Åh…'

I kissed again and held her tighter.

A minute later she had fallen asleep, and all I recollect is a few minutes holding her dozing form, before I too left the land of the waking.