She walked into the dingy looking bar. The few other patrons in the small place, grumbling as a flurry of cold air and snow followed after her. She would never normally come into places like this. But at this moment, she felt like she had no choice. She hated the cold, so why she had journeyed this far north was a little beyond her, other than the fact there were less people out here. Other than the fact that she would be able to hide what she was, if there weren't too many people to ask questions. And even though she had done her best to keep away from what little pockets of civilisation there were, the cold had finally begun to seep into her bones, and she needed something. Something to fight off the freezing temperatures.
"What'll it be..............." The barman gruffly enquired, as she moved to the counter and took a seat on one of the shabby, worn stools that ran the full length of the bar.
"Whisky.............." She replied, pulling the hood further down over her face.
"You got money...............?" The barman continued, as put down the glass that he had been polishing with a cloth that had certainly seen better days.
"That do ya............?" The figure responded abruptly, as she pulled some bills from her pocket and slammed them on the countertop.
"Aye, that'll do.................." The tall, older man behind the counter replied, as he grabbed for a glass and a bottle. Allowing the brown liquor to slosh into tumbler, before turning back to look at the game on the old TV. The woman glad that he wasn't going to be paying her any more attention. That probably just like everyone else in that place, she had no desire to talk. Because that was not why you would frequent somewhere like this. This was a place to just drink, nothing more, nothing less. A place you would drink until you forgot about your troubles. Forgot about your life. Forgot about the all invasive cold.
With a heavy sigh, she lifted the glass to her lips. Her nose scrunching up in disgust, as the harsh liquid made its way down her throat. A feeling of nausea over taking her, as the Whisky hit her stomach. Yet it also came with the warmth that she needed. A glow spreading over her skin and fighting off the chill that had seeped right into her marrow.
After another gulp of the unpleasant liquid, she rested the glass back down on the countertop. Her eyes focusing on the mirror that was at the back of the bottles that sat behind the bar. Sometimes she would wonder how her life had turned out like this. Up until that fateful moment, her life had been a good one. Happy at home with loving parents and siblings. Yet that love had vanished that day. The day that she had woke, and she and her family had realised that she was different. And from that moment, she had been on her own. Thrown from the house, with little more than a bag that she had quickly been able to fill with some clothes.
Suddenly, the movement of one of the stools next to her, shook the awful memories from her mind. The woman rolling her eyes, as she caught the reflection of the man that had come to her side. The smell of alcohol emanating from him, stronger than even that of the liquid in her glass. Stronger than the odour of stale beer and cigarettes that permeated the small place.
"Hello beautiful..............." The man slurred, as he leant a little closer. The woman scoffing at the comment. Knowing that if the man actually saw what lay beneath her large hood, the last thing that he would call her, was beautiful.
"Go away................I'm not interested................."
"Oh, come on. All I want is a little company................."
"Well, there are plenty of stray dogs wandering around outside that probably won't mind how you smell. Try some of them............." She replied. A growl rumbling deep in her belly, as the man slammed his glass down on the countertop and grabbed hold of her arm.
"Who the hell do you think you are.................."
"Who I am, and what I am, I assure you that you have never met the like before. Now I suggest that you remove your hand. For your own sake." She interrupted. The man too bleary eyed and angry to notice that the beer in his bottle had started to bubble. That the liquor in the bottles behind the counter had begun to bubble. But someone had noticed. Someone had noticed the ice in his glass instantly melt, and the brown liquid beginning to pop and roll before it bust into flames. The big man shaking his head before using the burning liquor to light his cigar. Having a terrible feeling that his quiet trip up north was about to be interrupted.
Logan had come into the dingy bar some time ago. He was on his way back to the school after some much-needed time away. The large feral having missed the snow. Missed the smell of pine forests and good clean air, and the out of the way place was just his kind of thing. No one interested in asking questions. No one interested in anything much really. The smell of cigarettes that had permeated every last seat in the place. That had seeped even the paper that was coming away from the walls, and the scent of old beer soaked into the tiles on the floor, strangely making him feel quite comfortable. Yet as soon as the new patron had walked into the bar, he knew that something wasn't right. That the woman that had made her way to the bar, was different to the others that had been drinking in the place, probably for as long as any of them could remember. That probably thought of the bar, as their second home. And as the mirrors behind the bar began to crack. As the bottles of liquor exploded sending shards of flaming glass towards the now screaming and shouting patrons that were fighting to flee the place, Logan knew that he was right.................