A Winter's Tale - Book I
Wintertime - Reynard

My name is Reynard and no, I'm not answering questions. Here's the rundown. I'm half Yeti and half-human, yeah let that sit in that gutter of a mind ya got for a second. If you want to figure that out you go right ahead. I'm not about to draw you a picture, ya pervert.

Anyway, my family kicked me out the minute my human father died. Like that twist in my half-breed lover story? He did apparently. Now stop thinking too deeply about it, you're grossing me out.

Anyways, my mother holds no appreciation for, well being a mom. She was never built for it, or maybe it was my fault. I wasn't a Yeti like her, not enough anyway. So in the dead of night, she told me to kick rocks. Then they all left and I was exiled, forced out on my own.

Is it normal behavior for a Yeti to be on his own? I don't know, I don't have the books on our history to tell you even if I wanted to. I don't even think we have books. I can read and write thanks to my father, that's not the issue. I just don't think we would be the type to sit and write a memoir is all.

"Fucking blizzard."

Now you're asking yourself how a Yeti that should be thousands of miles away from the North Pole is, in fact, at the North Pole. Simple, I walked, stole a few boats, cursed a lot, and highjacked a small plane or two. It wasn't easy I guess. Nothing big though so don't get your panties in a bunch.

Why the North Pole? Why not some snowy mountain I can waste my days away doing nothing but moping on? I guess I am answering questions.

I heard a story when I was a kid from my dad. It was a tale of home and hearth for all creatures lost and looking for protection. My father believed in good ole Santa Claus, and maybe I did too. Maybe I still do. A place where I wouldn't be judged for my looks or mannerisms.

I got a present every year no matter what mountain we were holed up in, so that's got to be something. A sign that Father Christmas is really there, waiting to welcome me.

I don't know. Maybe losing him lost me my mind as well. At the end of the day, I think I was hoping to replace him by coming here. Instead, I was just freezing my ass off thinking of the past and what I could've done to make my mother hate me so much.

It just didn't seem right, but then she never was quite right. She was with a human man, after all. I'm not kink-shaming them but it seems like a questionable decision or two was made. Still, they stayed together so maybe I'm just being spiteful.

They had one child, me, and she never wanted to hold or cuddle me as a child. That can't be normal. I think that shit just sticks with you, ya know? Like a claw in the heart or something.

It's not like I was useless or something. I hunted for my family, my mother's parents, and her siblings who were with us. I made sure we had a dry spot to sleep in, warmth from animal furs, and food to eat. It wasn't easy, but I thought it would all mean something.

I guess I just thought if I did everything perfectly she would love me or at least respect me enough to not look down on me. It was all a lie, and I hated myself for feeling so weak under her thumb. I could've left sooner and made a better life for myself.

I couldn't get the image of her and my father out of my head though. The smile she had for him was blissfully sweet, neverending love pouring from her soul to his so easily. Sure my father loved me, and showed me how to do everything I could now, but she looked at me with disgust. There was only enough positivity for my dad.

Maybe it's because I don't look like her. I'm far more like my father, human in appearance. Well, mostly. My hair, white as the snow, was my mother's genes all the way. The fact that I'm a little over seven feet is from her as well, to be honest.

"A gargantuan waste of time."

As I kicked a pile of snow I wanted nothing more than to give up. This whole journey was a waste of time. I was throwing away my immortal days on some hope for what? A land of misfits?

Just like my damned birth giver, my lifespan was frozen in time around the age of twenty-eight to thirty. I stuck around so long for my father, to hold his hand in old age, but it had been hard not to run. If I had left sooner I would've never had to watch him die.

I could've pretended for the rest of my life that he was out there somewhere, exploring the unknown and loving my mother through her sour moods. I could think of him smiling. Instead, I couldn't get the image of his cold, dead face out of my mind's eye.

It wasn't something I would want for my own children. Not that I want kids or anything. I probably wouldn't be the most joyous dad. Plus I would want to stay in one place with my offspring, give them a community for love and support.

I didn't have that so how could my kids ever know such a thing? Hell, I was standing in a blizzard and thinking about what my possible future kids could have. Clearly, I wasn't mentally stable enough for a child either.

Looking off into the distance I could only take in a chilling breath as a light caught my attention. A fire? No, it was too still for that. A lantern? How long had I been trekking through this storm? That wasn't there a minute ago

"The North Pole."