Page 23 of North Is the Night
The bear is sacred to Finns.Forest brother, we call him.Honey palm.It is our duty to protect him, to share the forest with him. I can’t hear his distress and walk past if there might be some way for me to help. The gods would never forgive me if I didn’t try. As I intend to ask the gods for a favor, I have to at least investigate.
“Wait here,” I say, tying Halla to a tree.
The reindeer grunts in frustration, tugging on the lead.
“I don’t think you’ll like this,” I warn.
Keeping an arrow nocked in my bow, I approach on soft feet. The bear continues to grunt and groan as I make my way through the spindly birches. The sounds are coming from the depths of a man-made pit. I inch towards the edge, wary of the soil giving way. The last thing I want is to end up at the bottom next to a starving, scared bear.
When I’m sure the ground will hold, I peer cautiously over the edge. There, at the bottom of the deep, earthen pit, stands a young brown bear. He’s caught my scent and looks up at me with anxious eyes. His fur is golden brown around his face and ears, darker at his snout. His massive claws are thick with mud. He pants with fatigue. He’s clearly been trying for quite a while to free himself.
“Hello there, forest brother,” I call down into the pit.
My indignation grows as I look around. Who would make a pit out here, and why? There are no villages nearby, which means the bears are no threat. And Otso is a proud and vengeful god. As the spirit of the bear, he feels each of their deaths. If a Finn kills a bear, he must offer a feast in honor of Otso. The clever hunter will lie to Otso and make him believe the bear died of natural causes. If the god is not appeased, he will rain down his wrath.
You have to help him, Siiri.
It’s Aina’s voice in my head. I hear her words as clearly as if she were standing at my side. She’s always had such a heart for animals, for any wounded thing.
“I’d like to be alive when I join you in Tuonela,” I mutter, glancing around at the trees framing the pit.
You have to at least try.
I sigh, knowing she’s right. It’s the only thing to be done. Dropping to my knees, I lean over the edge of the pit. “Forest brother? I need you to know that I have a reindeer up here, and I need her. I’m going to help get you out, but I need you not to eat her, and Ireallyneed you not to eat me. If you go your way, and I go mine, I’ll give you all the dried fish in my pack. Do you agree to my terms?”
The bear makes a soft grunt that I take for assent.
I scramble to my feet and pull the hatchet from my belt, cursing Aina under my breath. Then I march over to the closest sapling. “This is, by far, the maddest thing I’ve ever done.” I look up to the heavens, spying the blue of the sky beyond the leaves. “Otso, please tell me you’re watching. Let this not lead to my death.”
Gripping the hatchet with both hands, I take a swing, slamming the blade into the trunk of the young tree. With deft strokes, wishing all the while that I could borrow the strength of Ilmarinen for the task, I gradually hack the trunk in two. When it starts to teeter, I give it a shove with both hands, guiding the path of its fall. Tucking the hatchet back into my belt, I grab the trunk with both hands and drag it closer.
“Look out below,” I call. “I’m dropping this end down to you.”
Dirt and leaves shower down onto the bear as I give the felled tree another heave, and it crashes trunk first into the bottom of the deep pit.
“Are you all right?” I call, peering through the branches.
The bear grunts in reply. The hacked end of the trunk is speared into the mud, while the rest of the tree is angled, the top branches clearing the edge of the pit. The bear pants through his open mouth, sharp white teeth on display as he surveys the tree.
“See if you can climb out now,” I call down to him. “And here’s your prize.” I reach into the pocket of my fox-fur vest and tug out the little satchel of dried fish. I shake the bag at him. “Climb out, and you can have some delicious fish.”
The bear watches me with puzzled eyes.
“Come on,” I groan. “I don’t want to leave you trapped down there. Climb out so I know you’re safe.”
The bear rises up onto his back paws and climbs on the trunk. The birch sapling sags under his heavy weight.
“Best to do it quick as you can,” I shout. “You’re too heavy. The sapling will break, but I can’t move a bigger tree on my own.”
It feels silly to talk to a bear, but I swear he looks up at me through the branches and nods like he understands me. In moments, he’s braving the climb. I stand back, one hand gripping the top of my hatchet.
“That’s it,” I say. “You can do it. Quick as you can—ah—”
I scramble backwards as the great paws of the bear clear the top of the pit. The branches rustle, and the trunk bends and snaps, the sound echoing around the forest as the head and shoulders of the bear emerge. He claws his way out, grunting and groaning, pulling himself onto firmer ground.
My heart pounds. Oh gods, what have I done? Now I’m standing just feet away from an angry, scared bear. He faces me, snorting through his nose as drool drips from his open jaws. His eyes are a warm brown as he looks at me. Neither of us moves.
Slowly, I raise my hand holding the satchel of fish. “Here you go, friend. Your prize.” I shake the contents of the bag out onto the ground and then back several feet away, making no move to touch my weapons. “I’ll not hurt you, brother. I’ve just proven that to you. Please don’t hurt me.”
