Nothing brought out the color of blood quite like snow. Amid an endless sea of white, the tiniest red speck could shine out like a beacon. Or, more appropriately, a warning.

It was the flash of red that first caught skier's attention on the slopes of Skjolden's newest resort. The body in the snow hadn't been there long at all before in was surrounded by a curious crowd. By the time police arrived, the story was all over social media.

The first question on everyone's mind was: What was it? As police Chief Jon Mikkelson approached the scene, he noted the tuffs of grey fur poking above the snow and came to the premature decision that it had to be a wolf.

Upon closer inspection, and uncovering the full size of the creature partially buried under the morning's fresh power, he began having doubts.

"Do Norwegian wolves get this big?" he asked his partner. One look at her shocked expression told him no.

The canine was the size of a large black-bear, over twice the size of any wolf he had seen before. If the beast was still breathing and standing on four legs, it would be tall enough that Jon could have felt it's breath on the back of his neck.

Jon's partner, Officer Dahl, laid her gloved hand on the animal's hip and pressed down until it's fur coat swallowed it whole. "This must be a type of hybrid. One of those wolf-dogs."

"Are those legal here?"

Dahl shook her head 'no', as the animals were considered dangerous and banned from being owned or imported into the country. "Perhaps this is a case of self defense?"

Jon watched a group of skiers glide past down the hill. Self-defense would make sense - if someone had stayed behind to talk to them. The person who called in the station had reported the animal was already dead, and no one had come forward about an attack.

Even if it were the case, the shooter had an odd choice in self-defense weapons. The only injury the animal had was a single wooden arrow lodged deep between its ribs. Careful not to damage evidence, Jon grasped the arrow shaft and began to pull upward. The entire dead weight of the animal fought against him to keep the arrow in place. The broadhead scrapped against bone and tangled in muscle, shredded into spaghetti as Jon twisted and wiggled it out of the carcass. When the arrow finally released, the force of his final tug threw Jon off-balance. He brushed the powder off his jeans and rebalanced himself on his heels.

"Is our suspect a caveman?" Dahl leaned closer to the bloodied arrowhead, made of stone and attacked to the shaft with sinew.

Jon, on the other hand, was more concerned with the arrows fletching, that closely resembled the primary feathers of a hawk. Every minute investigating unveiled one crime after another.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

As Dahl took the arrow to her truck to be thrown into an evidence bag, Jon circled the perimeter of the scene, searching for anything out of the ordinary. As luck would have it, the snow already covered any potential footprint evidence, so he walked into the wood line, under the cover of the thick evergreen canopy.

Working as a police officer in the states, Jon was use to unsettling atmospheres. He had felt all degrees of paranoia, fear, anxiety, and dread, as he prepared to confront dangerous criminals. Skjolden was a relaxing change of pace, where the most hardcore crimes summed up to a stolen car. Stepping into those woods was the first time Jon felt uneasy since moving to Norway.

A different form of dread hung in the air. There was no jittery criminal behind a bush ready to flee. This felt smarter. Jon's eyes jumped from tree to tree, but he could not identify what exactly was spying on him. But it saw him. Every twitch, every breath. The jumping veins of his neck as his pulse quickened. Perhaps this thing could even see his own thoughts and fears.

Jon shook his head. He hadn't worked as a cop for thirty-five years just to fall apart at the slightest noise. He squinted down at the shadowed snow, looking for a track, a speck of blood, anything.

The laughter and chatter of the passing skiers faded away, drowned out in the dark, cold woods. Jon couldn't quiet the voice in his head warning him that something was there, and it didn't like him here.

The sharp crack of wood sent him flying backwards into the snow. Facing the sky, he saw branches shaking, sending snow falling like sand in an hourglass to the ground. His eyes caught up to a large golden eagle seconds before it flew out of range. The crack he had heard was the bird's wings breaking through twigs as it took off.

"Jon?" Dahl asked when she returned to find him laying on his back in the snow next to the wolf.

He pushed himself up, reassuring her he was fine, and together they lifted the carcass to put in the bed of Dahl's truck.

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Years Ago

"See that one?" Jess' mom pointed to a white hair comb in the back of the glass case, carved from animal bone. "That was Mommy's project."

Her daughter, Jess, leaned closer to the exhibit as if hypnotized.

"The Vikings used to brush their hair just like you," she said, smoothing the stray strands on top of her daughter's head. "And they had all kinds of beautiful clips and jewelry."

"Are you gonna find more?" Jess asked.

"Probably. Last month, a boy your age found a sword in his backyard."

Jess' face lit up. "Could I find one?"

"We'd have to live in Scandinavia, but you know what?" Her mom kneeled to meet her eyes. "Mommy's pestering Daddy to move there one day, and I think he wants to go."

Elizabeth, Jess' older sister, appeared at the end of the hall. "Are we leaving yet?"

"We'll leave soon, honey."

Elizabeth sighed and wandered off, but Jess bounced with excitement. "If we move, can I dig up things like you?"

Leaving the exhibit, Jess's mom scooped her up in her arms. "You'll have to finish school first with good grades. Can you promise?"

Jess nodded enthusiastically, making her mother laugh.