Page 24 of North Is the Night
The bear’s massive snout drops to sniff the pile of dried fish. With a grunt, he noses away the leaves, exposing all the pieces. Then he starts to eat.
“If you see Otso, will you tell him what I did for you?” I say, giving him one last nod.
I don’t dare wait for him to finish. I keep backing away until I can no longer see the bear through the birch trees. Heart racing, I spin around and run back to poor Halla. She snorts, eyes wide, as she watches me approach.
“Come on, girl. We have to get out of here. That bear will still be hungry.”
We run side by side, putting distance between us and the bear. As I run, I pull an arrow from my quiver and press the tip of it into my palm hard enough to break the skin. I squeeze my hand tight, letting a few drops of blood fall to the forest floor. “Great Tapio, if you’re listening, know that I saved your cousin Otso in good faith. Please don’t let him hunt me down.”
Next to me, Halla picks up her pace, her eyes still bulging in fear.
“Good idea.” Returning the arrow to my quiver, I pull out my hatchet. With that in my left hand and Halla’s lead in my right, I run faster, determined to put as much distance between us and the bear as possible. “Are you happy, Aina?” I say through panting breaths as we jog. “You better be alive when I get to you. And when I do, we’ll have a nice long chat about how I think you’ve become a bad influence on me.”
At my side, Halla just snorts.
9
Aina
I haven’t seen Jaakoin two days. He left after our last little feast, just after I begged him to help me escape. Meanwhile, nothing in this room has changed. Bread and water. Bread and water. The sun doesn’t rise. No birds call. Not even a wind in the trees.
I’m alone.
Impossibly, wretchedly alone.
I’m just about to get out of bed and eat a bite of bread when suddenly the entire room changes around me. Where before there was a plain table and chair tucked along the far wall, there is now a grander table and a large, fur-covered chair. It’s almost throne-like in its proportions. And the table is laden with a meal fit for a feast day.
I scramble off the bed and cross over to the table. Hands on my hips, I warily examine the feast—whole roasted duck on a golden platter, a silver pike seasoned with rosemary and coarse salt, tureens of boiled root vegetables, lingonberry tarts, game meat pie, fresh rye bread with butter and seeded berry jam, a carafe of wine and a jewel-encrusted cup.
The fine meal isn’t the only change. In the corner of the room near the fire, there’s now a large copper tub filled to the brim with hot water. Steam spirals off the surface. There’s a stool, too, a cloth, a comb for my hair, and a thick block of soap.
It’s a bath.
Glancing around at all this splendor, I could weep with relief. A squawk from the windowsill has me turning. I take in Jaako on the sill, his chest puffed out with pride. “Is it not cursed?”
He shakes his feathered shoulders, and my heart skips a beat.
“Wait—did you do this, Jaako? Is this your magic?”
He bobs his head.
I sink down onto the chair as he flutters into the room. The tips of his feathers brush my shoulder as he lands on the table’s edge. “How did you do this?” I whisper, stroking his strong back. “Can you open the door for me? Can you not let me out?”
He stills, his gaze mournful as he clicks his beak.
I blink back my tears of frustration. “Well, it’s enough,” I say, not wishing to seem ungrateful. “For now, gods know this is more than enough.” Closing my eyes, I lift my hands in gratitude. “Ilmatar, blessed mother, thank you for this bounty. And thank you for my friend, Jaako.”
We share the feast together. Every bite is delicious. The duck all but melts in my mouth, the skin of the pike is crispy, the lingonberry tart is sweet. If I could, I would eat everything. Like a rock giant, I would open my mouth wide and swallow the table whole, candles and all. That’s how hungry I am after so many days of bread and water.
My spirits restored as I eat, I tell Jaako stories of Siiri and our many misadventures. The summer we found an abandoned litter of fox kits and raised them by hand. The solstice we got drunk on her father’s barley beer and danced naked under the full moon. I speak of my precocious little brothers and tending to my mother’s herb garden.
The raven listens intently to every word. I think he’s an even better listener than Siiri. He must be, because Siiri has the ability to speak, which means she’s constantly interrupting me to embellish my stories and laugh at her own expense.
By the time I sink into the warm bath, I’m talking of Lintukoto. “They call it a paradise,” I say, easing myself back into the hot water. “The dwarves tend to the trees, making the place ready for the birds to return each year. They say all the birds fly there in the winter, following the path of the stars in the sky to the farthest edge of the world. Have you ever been?”
From his perch on the stool, Jaako ruffles his feathers.
I sigh, dragging the bar of soap up and down my arms. “No, you wouldn’t have, would you? Ravens don’t leave in winter. You’re like me, like all the Finns. We stay when we should leave. The harsh winds bring ice and snow, everything withers and diesand still we stay. Even the sun abandons us.”
