Annaldra
Chapter 7

Ann wakened early, both nervous and excited with eiderdown feathers tickling her insides. Today was the day she had planned to prepare for the spell: the day she would shapeshift into her past lives. She had deliberately not made plans with Donald or Padraig so she had the entire day to herself. The weather, as forecast, was perfect. The sun shone, the sky was cloudless, but best of all there was no wind. Still, tranquil conditions were exactly what she hoped for. In a strange way, she was looking forward to today, although she had no idea what to expect, but it was the unknown that excited her—in a nervous kind of way.

After a filling breakfast of porridge, followed by toast and jam, Ann helped herself to some fruit, a couple of packets of shortbread and a bottle of water. After packing the picnic and a blanket, she placed her ‘relic-string’, as she now liked to call it, into her satchel and headed out.

‘Morning, Annaldra. Off to see Gillan then?’ shouted Scott in his usual cocky manner from across the square. He was a regular at the shop most mornings at this time collecting his morning paper, an espresso and a breakfast roll.

Ann smiled her sweetest smile and wiggled her fingers in a wave. ‘Morning, Scott,’ she replied. ‘I’m off to the beach myself. It’s such a fine day, and it’s the perfect place to read.’ She patted her satchel as though there was a book in it.

Scott looked pleased. ‘No Gillan today? What, have you two fallen out?’

‘No, Donald and I are good. I just fancied a day to myself. See ya,’ she said, and gave Scott a final wave before heading out the village.

Walking past Donald’s caravan, she was glad the curtains were drawn. If he saw her, he might want to join her, and in about ten minutes she would be safe, trapped by the tide where nobody could reach her. She was heading for the second bay beyond Donald’s beach: the one named Giants Cove. He had taken her there the night they met and again a week ago. The second time they had been, it was during the day. They had arrived at the first low tide and stayed until the second. However, that had been their plan, to spend the entire day there. They knew the tide would trap them so they had packed a couple of bottles of Donald’s elderflower wine, rolls, sausages and salad. Donald had built a fire to cook the sausages, but they kept it burning long after lunch, gathering driftwood kept them busy much of the afternoon. Of course, they could scramble up the hillside when the tide was in if they needed to leave, so in truth they were not completely stranded. Though escaping would not be easy as the hill was steep. It was during that visit that Donald showed her the ‘Blue Pool’ as he called it: a beautiful oval rock pool with pale turquoise walls and crystal, clear water. For a rock pool, it was deep, possibly a metre or more, but it was still possible to see the pebbles at the bottom, magnified by the clarity of the water. The beach also possessed three large caves, and stacks that obscured large areas from the sea, as there was no guarantee a fishing boat would not pass. This, Ann had decided on her second visit, was the perfect spot for changing. Not only did it offer her the privacy she needed, some of her transformations required specific environments and this beach and its surrounding offered them all.

Spreading the blanket on the ground, Ann brought out her relic-string and laid it on the blanket. It sure was ugly. Yet, each item tied to it had at one time been a part of her, and each had the power to transform her back into that life. Filled with anticipation, she took her time as she moved her hand along the string. Sensing the essence of each existence, ripples shimmied up and down her spine. She had already shape shifted once into Eleanora, but she was human. Now she had to change into other things, which was more unnerving.

Shutting her eyes, she hovered her hand above the string, but high enough that she sensed nothing from it.

’Please make it a good one,’ she whispered as she lowered her hand. Strange feelings stirred in her as the memories of the life she had chosen returned. It was a tiny mouse skull beneath her hand, and she knew exactly what it was now she was touching it. She untied the delicate skull from the string and studied it for a moment, turning it between her fingers as mouse feelings gently stirred within. How strange it was to imagine that had once been her skull.

‘Let’s do this!’ she said out-loud trying to convince herself she was confident. If she dwelled on it too long, she might change her mind, and not do it at all—ever. Taking a long deep breath and holding the tiny skull, she sensed its power getting stronger. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and held it against her heart. Then, emptying her mind, she allowed the mouse feelings to flood her being. At first it felt like gentle tugging, pulling at her, trying to dislodge her soul, but then, quite unexpectedly, with the next beat of her heart, she transformed into a tiny brown mouse.

Staying perfectly still and with her eyes still shut, awareness returned. Her senses were different, she was breathing much faster and smells were far more intense, but unlike her usual sense of smell, she could easily separate the various scents she detected and knew exactly the location of each source. She could smell food. Fruit, an apple to be precise, and a large mammal had marked its territory close by, probably a fox or a dog. It was faint now, probably a couple of days old. There was something else, further away. She sniffed again, separating the smell from the others. It was the smell of rot. Something was decomposing and judging from the potency of the smell, had been dead for a couple of weeks or more. None of the scents, however, were unpleasant. They were merely communications, conveying messages to her. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Next, she focused on her hearing. She could hear the higher pitched sounds of other rodents, sounds beyond the range of humans, but not only could she hear them, she understood them. On the hill that backed the beach, she could hear a mouse singing for a mate. Rodents were not the silent creatures she had imagined they were.

Finally, she opened her eyes, and on doing so, panic gripped her. She could see nothing but red. Something was wrong. She could remember being a mouse, but not this redness. Scurrying around she realised she was trapped, trapped in the red and her heart was beating like a runaway locomotive. She was going to die. Trying to calm herself, she concentrated on Ann, but nothing happened. It was too difficult, her mind was more mouse—and terror consumed her. Then, noticing a small opening in the red, she rushed through it. Seeing the blue sky and smelling the cool salty sea air the panic subsided slightly. Focusing on Ann, the mouse faded, and the rushing began, and in that instant, she became herself again. She was Ann.

She sat numb for a moment, still not quite herself as the remnants of terror still clung to her. She shut her eyes and tried breathing normally trying to calm her inner turmoil. As her heart rate decreased, relief began to filter through the fear. Phew, she eventually sighed, her whole body still shaking. Well, that was not fun. Looking around she realised she was naked. She had shrunk out of her clothes when she changed and the redness that had trapped her, and terrorised her to the point she thought she would die, was nothing more than her blouse. Ha! I should have realised, but the experience was enough to make her wary of the next change.

Rummaging in her satchel, Ann took out the bottle of water greedily gulping down most of its contents. This time she would choose more carefully and it would be something good, something she might actually enjoy. Looking along the string, she saw the Golden Eagle’s feather. Surely that would be more fun than the mouse, she thought recalling how just sensing the eagle’s essence had been enough to get her adrenaline pumping—in an exciting way.

After tying the mouse skull back on, she untied the eagle’s feather. Wow, the power she felt when she held it was so much stronger, much more exhilarating. Kneeling naked on the blanket Ann breathed deeply and held her breath before holding the feather close to her chest. Then she shut her eyes.

Instantly she felt the rushing as though her body would explode as the mighty eagle thrust into her being. Pow! It was invigorating—she felt so alive, so strong—she was invincible. Opening her eyes, her vision was unbelievably sharp, like a camera lens zooming in and out, near and far, only much quicker. Her focus was instant. She could see every detail on the tiniest hermit crab at the other side of the beach as it emerged from its shell, black beady eyes and antenna first, followed by pincers then legs, before scurrying across the sand.

Looking up, the turquoise sky beckoned her. She wanted to fly. Outstretching her powerful wings she knew instinctively what to do. Up, up and up she flew, her mighty wings continually beating air down as they fought with gravity until she was over a mile from the ground. Then she relaxed and soared on the warm updrafts of air, at one with the wind. Gazing towards the horizon, she could see a mountain range bathed in sunlight, and remembered how she used to soar over majestic peaks at sunset, golden like pyramids, watching and waiting for the nocturnal creatures to emerge from their sanctuary, hoping for one final kill. It was her favourite time for hunting, being the most fruitful, but it was short as twilight weakened her vision. She wished it was sunset now.

Then, below in a field, something caught her eye, a hare munching a rare autumn dandelion, oblivious to its perilous situation. She began to nosedive, swooping down like an arrow focused and direct. Then in the blink of an eye, she snatched it with her powerful talons. As she flew towards the cliff tops, it wriggled fiercely, desperately fighting for its feeble life. She clenched her talons tighter. The struggling slowed, then ceased, though it jerked a couple of times before going eternally limp. All of a sudden there was squawking and screeching around her, and she felt piercing pain. A handful of gulls were attacking her, but their battle cries were calling more to arms, and she could see at least a dozen taking flight from the cliffs. Panic filled her. She had to stay focused on the eagle. If she lost focus up here and transformed back into herself, she would fall to her death. Still trying to defend herself, she dropped the hare as she nosedived, breaking free from the angry gulls. Landing safely on the blanket the gulls caught up, but not quick enough as she instantly transformed back, the gulls making a hasty retreat.

Her heart was racing, banging on her chest like a drum, her body trembling. She could have fallen out the sky like a stone. She felt sick with fear. Her stomach clenched a few times trying to retch. Looking down at herself, she saw trickles of blood from the wounds the gulls had given her. Not too serious, thank goodness. Next time she shapeshifted she would stay put and transform back into herself after a few seconds.

The day was going to be long. She had many transformations to complete, but she would put more thought into each one. The Blue Pool was ideal for freshwater transformations as it was above the tide level, its peat filtered water supplied by a spring from the hillside above. She used the sea and the rock pools for salt water creatures.

When she transformed into a crab in one of the rock pools, she was attacked by what appeared to be the King Kong of crabs, a monster whose territory she had invaded. It was not happy, snapping at her with its giant pincers like digger claws. Luckily, she had the hang of changing back instantly or it would have done some serious damage, or worse. She laughed when she saw it, being nothing more than a decent sized shore crab, realising that she herself must have been a tiny crab, no bigger than her thumb. When she had held the broken piece of crab shell in her hand before she transformed she could remember being fierce, being a fighter, but the truth was, if anything significant had attacked her she would only have been capable of inflicting tiny nips, without drawing blood. Yip, that would have been her worst. Her world, she realised, must have been the smallest of rock pools, as wherever it was, she had been top of the food chain.

When she became a seal, a bull seal on the beach who had been watching from the shore, shuffled towards her barking. Ann waited, only changing back as it reached her. The poor creature turned and fled in utter confusion making her giggle. ‘Well, you’re not a Selkie then?’ she called after it, but it kept going as fast as it could. Selkies were, if you believed the mythology, seals capable of shedding their skins to become human on land. Donald had told her legends about them, including how a family in the village claimed to be descended from one.

All her other transformations went smoothly. Some she enjoyed more than others: the bear, the bore, the stag, the swan, the salmon and the owl were all good. Becoming insects like the butterfly, dragonfly and cricket made her nervous, knowing she was a tasty meal many creatures would enjoy, so she only transformed for a few seconds. Her father was right. That was all it took to feel the essence of the life.

However, the best transformation was the mighty oak. Ann had moved to the hillside that backed the beach, to an area where the storm tides had torn away the undergrowth and topsoil leaving virgin soil exposed.

She could not have imagined what it would feel like being a tree because there was nothing like it. A tree was part of the earth and drew wisdom from it, but its sentience was far greater, and more spiritual than anything she had experienced in her other forms. Trees could see without eyes, hear without ears, feel without touch, smell without nostrils, whisper without a mouth and know without a brain in one all-encompassing sense as though every cell was tuned into the universe. However, it was more than a feeling; it was also knowledge, a memory. Trees never forgot. Ancient trees recorded hundreds and thousands of years of the history occurring around them. Trees also whispered to one another in the wind. Whispers that sounded like enchanting songs, ancient and sacred that only they understood and could hear. Compared to animals that required sensory receptors to experience the world around them a tree’s sentience was unparalleled.

Wow, no wonder Pagans revered trees so much, she thought after she transformed back. If people understood trees, what a different place the world would be. Now she understood that requiring specific receptors for each sense was restrictive, especially in humans, who were by far the least sentient of the lives she had experienced. Their senses were not only dulled by comparison, but it was as though an entire sense had been switched off or lost, giving them limited perception. How, with that limitation, had humans risen to become the dominant species on the planet? Ann could only guess, but perhaps it was that lack of true awareness that had led them to lead another type of existence.

Finishing her water, Ann turned her thoughts to her final transformation… a wolf. This was the change she had been looking forward to most. In Greenland she was friends with a wolf she named Toolik. In the winter, his pack was never far from her home hoping to be fed. He was the closest thing she’d had to a pet, and she missed him greatly, but now she was going to be like him. She had told everyone here that Toolik was her dog. You cannot after all, admit you were friends with the leader of a wolf pack. People here would not understand what life was like in Greenland, how different it was.

Taking a deep breath, she felt herself pulling towards her heart as the wolf began to displace her, subtly at first before the quickening completed the process. It was invigorating. She felt powerful and totally wild as she became one with nature. The urge to run overpowered her. She headed up the hillside in great bounds, the cool air whooshing over her body. It took no effort at all to reach the top where she paused to sniff the air. It was faint, but she could make out the smell of fresh meat, the smell of blood. She could remember it well now, and the desire to taste it was too strong to fight. Taking off she raced towards the farm beyond the trees. She could hear the meat now. It was chickens: juicy, plump, clucking chickens. Salivating, she remembered how good they tasted. The thought of warm blood and raw flesh was intoxication and nothing would stop her making that kill.

Jumping over the fence, she grabbed the biggest one by the throat, killing it instantly. Warm, red satisfaction trickled down her throat fuelling her wildness. She had never felt so alive. However, she had caused a commotion as other chickens sounded the alarm. Filled with panic she jumped back over the fence with the chicken dangling from her mouth and headed across the hilltop towards Donald’s caravan.

‘Get the gun! Get the gun! A bloody big wolf just nabbed a chicken,’ she heard shouted over the cackling of the chickens.

‘A what?’ the other voice trailed off.

Ann could taste the warm, sweet blood in her mouth. It was delicious. She wanted to stop and devour her kill, but her instincts told her to keep running.

Crack! A thunderous sound rushed past her. It was a gunshot. The farmer had taken a shot at her, but fortunately had missed. She would not be safe until she made it to the brim of the hill. Once she started descending she would be out of range, and Donald’s caravan was not far from the bottom. With great dismay, she opened her jaws and dropped the chicken as her survival instincts took precedence over hunger. Now she could run faster.

Crack! Only this time excruciating pain shot through her front leg causing her to stumble forward and roll, yelping as she did. She had been hit. Fortunately, she had fallen over the brim of the hill so she was now out their range. Whimpering, she struggled to stand and carried on as best she could, but now she was slow, limping in pain. It was not far to Donald’s caravan, but she needed to change back or she would never make it. Slowing down and remembering herself as Ann, the wolf dissolved. Now on two legs, she could run fast again, making it safely to the door on the far side of the caravan. Pausing for a moment Ann panted, feeling her heart still pounding like the wolf’s.

Holding her breath, she gently tried the handle. Finding the door unlocked, relief filled her, and she allowed her breath to exhale. Using great care, she opened the door and looked in. Good, Donald was asleep on the couch. Stealthily she snuck into the shower room and locked the door. Letting out a sigh of relief, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her jaw dropped in shock, as staring back at her was a Neanderthal, a wild woman covered in mud and blood; her hair looked like a haystack after a hurricane.

‘Yuck!’ She spat in the sink trying to get rid of the taste of raw dead chicken. Did I really think it tasted that good? God, it seemed unfathomable to her now.

‘Who the hell is in there?’ shouted Donald banging on the door.

Damn, she had woken him. ‘Hi, Donald, it’s just me. It’s Ann,’ she said trying not to sound nervous and out of breath.

‘Ann, are you okay? What’s all this blood, it’s everywhere?’

Ann looked at her arm in the mirror. The wound was bad. Luckily, the bullet had ripped through her flesh and carried on, leaving a deep gash through her muscle. It would need stitched. She would do it herself rather than go to the hospital. Grabbing a mass of toilet paper, she wrapped it around her arm, but no matter how many times she wrapped it, the blood kept seeping through.

‘Don’t worry, Donald I just had a small accident. It’s nothing really,’ she lied looking at her makeshift bandage. At least it had stopped the blood running to the floor now.

‘It’s nothing! Let me see.’ Donald’s tone was firm.

What was she going to tell him? She could not tell him the truth. He would not believe her even if she did. ‘I tripped and fell onto some barbed wire and cut my arm, that’s all. Please give me a minute. I will be out soon.’

‘Well don’t be long,’ said Donald as he retreated to the couch.

Ann filled the sink with cold water and using a facecloth, she began to wash her body. God, she was muddy and bloody. It would take forever like this; a shower would be much quicker she decided. Stepping inside, the water felt as cold as the Greenland Sea, but her blood was thin now; she had lost a fair amount. Washing her hair, she tried not to make a sound, but it was hard not to squeal with the cold. Letting the shower rinse her hair, her makeshift bandage washed off her arm. Quickly, and only concentrating on the muddy and bloody bits, she washed the rest of her body, always avoiding her wound.

That ought to do it, she thought, turning off the water. Now she had to stop her arm bleeding. Grabbing the smaller of the two towels Ann tied it round the wound. That will have to do. Then, wrapping the larger towel around her, she left the safety of the shower room and stepped into the unknown.

‘You’ve had a shower?’

‘Yes, I hope you don’t mind. I was covered in mud.’

Donald shook his head. ‘Of course not, but it must have been bloody cold.’ His eyes were drawn to the towel wrapped around her left arm. It had been white, but the blood had already seeped through, turning it as scarlet as a poppy in places. ’What the hell has happened, Ann?’He lifted her left arm and studied the blood-soaked towel. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked now looking at her.

Ann turned her gaze away feeling uncomfortable. Donald was such a good friend; she wanted to tell him, but she could not. ‘I’m fine, really I am. I wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped over a boulder and fell into a barbed wire fence. Stupid boulder!’ she said trying to make light of it.

‘You’re shaking, come here,’ he said stepping forward to hold her.

Donald felt warm; being in his arms made her feel safe. ‘Thank you, Donald,’ she whispered sensing her heart rate returning to normal.

Outside, Murdo and Malcolm, the farmer and his son who were pursuing her, were walking back, having given up finding the wolf. They had searched everywhere, but there was no sign of it. They were sure they shot it as they heard it yelp and saw it lunge over the hill. However, now they doubted whether they could have, as a wounded animal could not have run fast or travelled far.

‘Look!’ Malcolm nudged his dad and nodded towards Donald’s caravan.

They both stared in the window at Donald embracing Ann. ‘Well I never, he’s certainly still got it then,’ said Murdo.

‘Lucky bastard,’ murmured Malcolm under his breath before heading back to their farm.

Back inside the caravan, Ann knew the crisis was far from over, her main problem now being her lack of clothes. ‘Donald, my clothes are ruined. They are soaked and covered in blood. Please can you go to the hotel and get me some?’

‘Of course, but first let me look at your arm.’

‘Okay,’ she agreed, hoping he would have some decent bandages to dress it.

Using great care Donald untied the bloodied towel from her arm, but it still made her wince.

’That’s a bad one, a really bad one. You’ll have to go to the hospital, it needs stitched, and you will need a tetanus injection.’

‘No!’ she butted in firmly, ‘I am not going to the hospital!’

‘You must go,’ said Donald with a confused laugh as he rummaged about in a kitchen cupboard. ‘I’ve got a first aid kit in here somewhere. Ah, here it is.’ He placed it on the kitchen table and opened the lid. ‘I’m afraid there’s not much in it. Ah-ha antiseptic cream and a dressing, that should do it until you get to the hospital.’

‘I’ve told you I’m not going! You cannot make me!’

‘It’s not a problem, I’m sure Padraig or Scott will drive you.’

‘I’m not going, and that’s the end of it!’ Nothing would make her go. What if they tested her blood, what might they find? She was only half-human, and now she had empowered her blood with her other lives, what might that have done to it? Even worse, what if they diluted her empowered blood with a transfusion, after all she had lost a lot? She decided it was not worth the risk.

‘Anyone would think you were scared.’

‘I am. I hate them, I’ve spent too much time in them recently, I won’t go,’ she said thinking fast.

‘Ah your mum, I think I understand,’ said Donald as he took her arm and applied the antiseptic cream. ‘It doesn’t look as though it will stop bleeding on its own, and this cream is just going to wash off with all the blood.’

Ann craned her neck to see over her shoulder. The gaping wound was still oozing fresh blood. ‘Well, it’s bleeding less than it was.’

‘Listen, I have a compromise, so hear me out,’ said Donald sounding serious. ‘Once this is bandaged, I will get your clothes from the hotel. Then we will go and see Elaine and ask if she can sort it. She is a nurse after all. That way you’ll get it properly seen to, without having to go to the hospital.’

That sounded like a plan, the only problem being Finley might be there. ’Okay, I agree to that,’ she said feeling excited by the prospect, and if she could keep it together, there was no problem. She had not seen him since the Country Fair and she longed to be near him again, and in any case, she told herself, it was necessary in this circumstance.

‘Anyway I will need your room key.’

‘I don’t have it, Mr Finch will let you in,’ said Ann, even though she was not entirely sure he would. However, Mr Finch knew they were friends so there stood a good chance he would.

Donald gave her a pair of shorts with a belt, and a jumper to wear, and went off to fetch her some clothes. Ann hurriedly changed, then went into the shower room to inspect the mess. There was so much blood and dirt. Christ, if Donald saw it, he would be far more worried and how would she explain this much mud. She found a cloth and some bleach in the kitchen and set to work, but it was hard only using her right arm. Next, she went into the kitchen and dining area to clear the blood. Fortunately, the floor was linoleum so was easy to clean. Standing back, she admired her work. It was back to normal, no, it was better than before.

It was not long before Donald returned with a bag of clothes.

‘Luckily it was Dark Mark at the desk so he let me in, but he stayed with me while I got them,’ he handed her the bag of clothes. ‘You will never believe this. Apparently, Murdo and Malcolm were chasing a wolf this afternoon, and they think they shot it. Everyone at the hotel is talking about it.’ Donald’s gaze was transfixed on Ann as he spoke making her somewhat uneasy.

‘A wolf, are there still wolves in Scotland?’ she asked trying to sound naïve, but his stare remained intense. Surely, he doesn’t suspect.

‘No, there are no wolves in Scotland, not wild ones anyway, but whatever it was, it stole one of their chickens in broad daylight. It dropped it during the chase.’

She shrugged as though uninterested. ‘Probably a fox or a dog then,’ she said in a blasé tone.

‘Aye, you are probably right,’ he agreed, but Ann still thought him suspicious of her.

‘Wow, you’ve been busy,’ said Donald when he noticed the clean floor. ‘But you should have been resting, you’ll be weak and you’ve had a shock.’

‘Aw, it was nothing. I couldn’t leave it for you to clear up my mess.’

Opening the bag Ann noticed Donald had packed a short, black summer dress with black underwear and sneakers. A typical guy, she thought laughing to herself. He has no idea what is appropriate and what goes. She was glad he had remembered to pack a warm jacket.

Ann headed to the shower room to change. She felt she was getting ready for a date. A feeling of excitement grew inside her, but instead of butterflies swarming in her belly, they were fireflies. She could not stop grinning; she kept thinking about Swain… about Finley. It did not feel wrong to think of Swain the way she did. Well, he had been her husband. Finley, on the other hand, was married to Elaine, but she thought of him the same way as they were, in essence, one-and-the-same. It was wrong, she knew it was, but deep down she did not care; she just longed to be near him again.

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