Chapter 5

Mikalina

Iarrived at Mini's house later that evening for dinner. Andrei had knocked on the door and escorted me over, the conversation he started during the short walk friendly.

I was thankful he was eating with us, simply because if not it would be one hell of a clusterfuck trying to communicate with Mini. Not that I wouldn't try, but I didn't want to frustrate her with the language barrier.

And as I sat on her flower-printed, ancient-looking couch, I felt her eyes stray to me repeatedly. I felt strange around the older woman—not in a bad way, but more likeshe could look into my eyes and know everything I was thinking.

I felt as if she knew a secret about me—a very important one—that I wasn"t even aware of. Like she knew the outcome of my future.

It was unnerving, to say the least.

It was a strange feeling to be so open and bare in the figurative sense, despite not being able to communicate with someone personally.

Mini insisted I sit and wait for dinner after I offered my help. She looked so aghast at me helping her cook that I felt my eyes widen and saw Andrei smirk and shake his head.

"It's not personal," he said as he came to sit on the couch beside me. "It's her way. And they are set in stone."

I nodded, although I couldn't say I understood. I'd never known anyone like that. "My grandmother goes to a country club every weekend," I said with distaste. "She"s about as loving as a snowball to your face."

Andrei started laughing. "Things are much different here than your home."

"You have no idea," I murmured and looked around. Mini's living room was small but cozy, with the colorful folk decorations that somehow made me feel comfortable and right at home. She had a small TV that sat atop a polished table, a large lace doily underneath. Andrei had turned it on, telling me his grandmother liked to listen to the shows even though she didn't look at the screen.

The current show was what I'd call a soap opera, although I wasn't sure if it was called the same thing here. The woman was dramatically crying, clutching the strand of pearls around her neck as she clearly begged for the very handsome man in front of her to stay. She'd reach out to him only to snatch her hand back and glare, then start up with the crying again.

Although I assumed she was distraught he was leaving, I couldn't understand what was being said, so for all I knew, she could be cursing him out for having a small dick and not satisfying her in bed.

Mini started shouting from the small kitchen, and Andrei rose. "Dinner is ready. I hope you brought your appetite. My grandmother doesn't get to cook like she used to, so she's made a feast."

I smiled and followed him into the dining area and felt my eyes widen at the spread on the table.

"Oh my," I said low, my stomach growling at the sight and smells. Everything looked incredible and delicious. "She had to be cooking all day," I added absently, embarrassed that it had come out of my mouth.

"Oh yes. She was very excited to prepare dinner."

Mini gestured to the dishes and started rattling them off, which Andrei would then translate.

Sarmale—cabbage rolls. M?m?lig?—polenta. Mici—grilled minced meat rolls, or something to that effect Andrei translated, as he wasn't sure of the exact English translation. Cozonac—sweet bread. Papana?i, which looked like tiny donut holes with delicious cream and jam on top.

He went on to name five other dishes, more desserts, and I was so overwhelmed but incredibly hungry.

I was grateful, never having anyone—not even from my family—go to this kind of trouble. I thanked Mini many times, and her smile coupled with a chin lift right before she waved off my gratitude told me she was proud I was pleased.

We sat down and began to eat, and Mini started speaking, Andrei once again translating. She described each dish and a memory attached to it, and I found myself transfixed with the stories, wishing I had a fraction of the upbringing she had.

She and her family didn't have much in the way of materialistic things, but what they did have was love and coming together as a unit over cooking and eating.

And to me, that sounded like heaven.

It was a far cry from my stiff, somewhat distant upbringing, where my modern-day parents were strict to the point they were cold at times. There hadn't been wonderful dinners where we sat around the table and talked about our days. There weren't memories attached to the dishes cooked or recipes passed down from other family members.

And wasn't that just sad as hell?

We sat there and ate, an hour and a half passing yet it seemed like no time at all. Mini stood and started clearing off the table, and I tried to help. I went to pick up a plate, but Mini spoke fast, her tone very disapproving as she shooed me away. Andrei just shook his head and smirked, gesturing for us to head out into the living room.

"Set in her ways," he said as if that was the key to everything.

She came out with coffees for us, then shuffled back into the kitchen. I felt bad I couldn't be of more help, but it seemed as if it would be an offense to her, so I followed Andrei lead us to the couch where we sat down.

The conversation between Andrei and me was light, with him asking about my life in the States. I reciprocated by asking him about his life here in Romania. I was fascinated to learn how different things were, how much harder he had to work for the things that had come so easily for me. It was also very clear that the normal day occurrences and conveniences in my life… I clearly took for granted, because to Andrei, they seemed as though they were luxuries.

Mini came and joined us shortly after and stayed silent as she sipped her tea and listened to Andrei and me speak about easy, normal things. But then the silence descended upon us, and I could feel this weird thickness in the air. I knew Andrei felt it as well, because he shifted on the couch, seeming as if he was uncomfortable with whatever was being charged around us.

That's when Mini started speaking, but not in her normal quick pace like I was accustomed to in this short time, but slow and steady, her eyes staring right at me as she continued to speak.

The way Mini spoke had a shiver racing up my spine, had goose bumps raised along my arms and legs. And the whole time, she stared right at me, looked right in my eyes, as if she were pleading with me, as if what she said was imperative.

"What is she saying?" I asked Andrei without breaking my focus on Mini. The older woman gestured toward the front door, presumably to the thick forest right outside. I didn't know why or how I knew what she was referring to, why I felt so strongly about it, but it was as real as the air I inhaled deep into my lungs.

I heard—and felt—the rise and fall of Mini's voice as she spoke, the tone and pitch of her words telling me she was explaining a story, telling a tale.

I glanced at Andrei, and he listened to his grandmother with this raptness on his face, as if he was hearing it for the first time as well. I glanced back at Mini, her old, wise eyes still on mine. Finally, she stilled, stopped, and leaned back, finishing her tea as she clearly waited for Andrei to translate whatever she just said.

I glanced at him, waiting expectantly.

He ran a hand over his jaw and shook his head.

"What did she say?" I asked with impatience, not meaning to sound that way, but feeling like I was at the edge of my seat, waiting for the finale of a story.

"She tells a story she heard when she was younger, about one of the wolves in the woods that frightens the villagers."

Mini said something else, and for some reason, I knew she was saying, "Tell her all of it."

But for some strange reason, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when I heard Andrei say "wolf."

"She says the story is of wolves. But they are different. They are..." He spoke to her again, and she answered immediately, her voice even and clear. "Lycan. She says they are not wolves but Lycan. Part man, part wolf-like creature."

My heart started racing for some reason at that, and I found myself glancing out the window. How strange to have this very physical reaction from that alone.

"The Lycans are a species that have been around millennia, before man, and will still be here after humans are gone." Andrei started speaking to Mini, and I focused on them again. He exhaled. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure why she's insistent on me telling you this. It's not to frighten you. She says you must know what lurks in the woods, because you being here is no accident."

I swallowed and knitted my brows. "I don't understand. No accident?"

He shrugged as if he didn't understand either. "She says nothing is coincidence. Everything happens for a reason. We are born tofulfill something."

Mini started speaking again, and I watched her, so engrossed for some reason that I actually found myself leaning forward, hanging on to the words she spoke that I couldn't understand.

"She says as soon as she looked into your eyes, she knew you were here for a reason, that you are meant to fulfill your truth. She says it's in your eyes."

For some reason, I lifted my hand, stopping when I got to the corner of one of my eyes. I didn't understand what she meant but it was clear she was very passionate about it.

I could push this all off to an older woman from a faraway land telling me a story she heard as a child and had hung on to it her whole life. But then Mini lifted her hand and gestured to her own eyes then pointed to mine. She started speaking again, her tone now becoming a lighter, gentler cadence. When she gestured for Andrei to translate, I snapped my head in his direction, anxious to hear more.

"My grandmother said something about blue eyes being fate, ones so bright they were not a human shade, but like the Lycans."

It was true, my eyes were a strange shade of blue, almost teal in appearance. As far as I knew, no other person in my family had this shade or anything remotely close to it. I'd gotten compliments as a child, looks from men and women in wonder, and appreciated it as I'd gotten older. I'd have to say my eyes were probably my best attribute, seeing as I was plain in every single manner aside from that.

But to think something so outlandish as this, whatever this was—not even including the whole wolf, Lycan, whatever folklore—that I had some kind of preordained destiny here simply because of the color of my eyes? Outrageous.

I kept that to myself, though. It was very clear Mini believed what she said wholeheartedly, and I was in no position to correct anyone and tell them I was nobody special. I didn't have a great destiny in front of me. I was simply here because I needed to get away, because I felt some kind of lacking in my life… some kind of pull to explore and move on.

I realized I needed to get away, how I felt so at home when I decided I was going to Dobravina, how I felt it was exactly where I was supposed to be. And that feeling intensified when I landed in the country, and even more so once I got to the village.

I stayed for another half hour, the conversation being steered in a more neutral, "safer" direction by Andrei. But all I could think about was what Mini said.

After thanking her once again, I headed next door but stood outside and stared at the thick line of trees I could see just up in the distance. The moon was high, not quite full, but casting a silvery, glowing light across everything. Shadows snaked between the trees, and it was pitch-black deep within those woods, so dense I saw nothing but that inkiness.

My skin felt tight, hot. My heart beat a steady rhythm, and I actually found myself moving closer to the woods, some unforeseen event almost drawing me closer. But I shook my head to clear it and forced—yes, I had to force—myself to go inside the cottage.

I found myself in my room and leaned against the wall, my mind even more confused than ever.

I went through the motions of getting ready for the night, my mind thick with the tale Mini delivered.

And then I lay in my bed, the lights off, the sound of the night right outside my window doing nothing to lull me.

I knew there wouldn't be a restful sleep for me. Not when it felt like I'd touched a livewire.