Page 54 of North Is the Night
The bear makes a noise that almost sounds like a laugh.
“Oh, and boat racing. Let’s drag the boat to the river, she said. Never mind that the spring thaws mean there may be rapids. The boat tipped, and I nearly drowned dragging her out of the water.”
He glances my way, his expression veiled.
“Here I am again, risking life and limb when she’s too weak to save herself. I should leave her to her fate!” As soon as the words leave my lips, I regret them. I stop, tears stinging my eyes, as hot bubbling shame burns a hole through my gut. The pain is only matched by the throbbing at my temple from the axe blow and from the wound on my throat. I could swear the bear is frowning at me.
“Fine,” I mutter. “It was me. It’s always me. I get us into trouble. I fight when I should flee. I leap without thinking. Aina is the only one who follows me. She would follow me to the ends of the earth.”
The bear gives me a searching look.
I look away, blinking back my tears. “I may get us into trouble, but I always get us out of it again.”
A few hours later, it’s nearing dark, and I’m still walking. The bear lumbers on all fours at my side, his back nearly reaching my shoulder. His head alone is huge, made thicker by his full winter coat. Large, fluffy flakes of snow land on his fur and stay there, dusting his broad back and shoulders.
“I think you need a name,” I say.
He stiffens.
“What about Valo? It meanslight.”
The bear just grunts.
I laugh. “Hmm... what about Syksy? No, Kosto.Vengeance.That seems fitting.”
He sniffs disinterestedly at those names too.
“We go on a journey north to seek out a hero from legend,” I muse. “What about Kalev, the great King of Kalevala? He and his sons built castles of ice in winter and stone in summer. I can call you Kal for short.”
He leans into my shoulder, looking for an ear scratch, and I take this as assent.
“Kal it is then.”
He grunts.
“And you do know where we’re going, right?” I ask for the hundredth time. “The goddess said I’m following you.”
He’s not listening. His golden ears have perked up, his mouth closed as he sniffs the air.
“What is it?” I follow Kal’s eyes and peer through the dense evergreens. “Is something out there?”
In answer, a dog barks in the distance. Then another. Multiple dogs mean people, perhaps even a whole village.
“If they live this far north, they must be Sámi.”
Father told me many stories of Sámi, our brothers and sisters to the north. They are reindeer herders, following the herds with the changing of the seasons. It’s a harsh, nomadic life of constant motion.
I met one once, a young hunter, beardless and handsome. He traveled all the way down to Lake Päijänne. He passed through our village on the way to the southern market. I still remember his bright clothes and his wide smile.
We keep walking, and I look for signs of people—footprints, animal droppings, smoke, tracks. To our left, more barking breaks the silence. Kal pauses, taking a few panting breaths to taste the air.
“You better stay here,” I say. “I don’t want them to panic. If this is a village, they might be willing to trade. Three people won’t make it south without more supplies, and I’m not finding Aina just to lose her again.”
He pushes his head against my hip in protest.
“Hey, you’re the valuable one. You know the way to Väinämöinen, not me.” I tie Halla to the closest branch as Kal glares from my throat to the bruising on my temple. “You think I haven’t thought of that?” Opening one of the leather packs, I take out Aksel’s old hunting hat, lined with fur. It has two flaps that come down around the ears. Putting it on over my little blue cap, it covers the worst of my bruises. I fasten the top button of my jacket, hiding the bloody bandage at my neck. “I’ll call if I need you. Stay hidden. And don’t eat her,” I add, pointing at the reindeer.
I leave them together, shrugging my bow off my shoulder as I walk, nocking an arrow. My feet crunch on the fresh, powdery snow, my warm breath coming out in white puffs. Using a hunter’s trick, I scoop a small handful of the snow, putting it in my mouth to cool my breath. I weave through the dark trees, bow at the ready.
