18

Siiri

I take the best of the trappers’ supplies, loading them into Halla’s packs. They don’t have much beyond some dried venison and a sewing kit. I let the pair of other reindeer loose to make their own way. It took many soothing words to get Halla to walk anywhere near the lumbering bear, but after a few hours of practice, we achieve a good rhythm. He walks to my left, and she walks to my right.

“This is just like Aina,” I say, holding one hand against the seeping cut at my throat that won’t stop bleeding. “She would put me in this position. She was always getting us into trouble.”

Halla glances at me, her soft eyes blinking.

“I told her to run,” I say to the bear, knowing Halla has heard it all before. “She just stood there like her feet were made of stone. She let Kalma take her.”

The bear grunts, showing me that he’s listening.

“Growing up it was just the same.” I give Halla’s lead a tug. “Let’s climb that tree, Siiri,” I say in a mockery of Aina’s voice. “Oh, we climbed the tree... and found two hornets’ nests hiding in the branches. We were stung within an inch of our lives. Mummi was putting salve on us for a week.”

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 means light .”

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 P?ij?nne. 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 V?in?moinen, 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.

Snap.

I whirl around, pulling back on my bowstring. I’m face to face with a young man with weather-burned cheeks and bright green eyes. He lowers his axe and raises his free hand in a sign of peace, his voice muffled by his scarf.

I lower my bow. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

He speaks again as he tucks his axe into his belt.

I shake my head. “I don’t understand you.”

He sighs, glancing around. Then he switches to a language I understand. “You are Finn.”

“Yes,” I reply. “I’m Finn.”

“Come. I take you to Lumi.” Without waiting for me, he turns and walks away. I slip my bow onto my shoulder, tucking my arrow back into the quiver, but I keep my hand on my hatchet as I follow him through the trees. I walk with slim knives in both my boots now, and Kyosti’s hunting knife is nestled between my shoulder blades.

I smell the village before their fires appear through the trees. They’re smoking meat. My stomach groans, twisted with hunger.

The trees thin and I catch my first glimpse of the huts. Men, women, and children emerge to watch us pass. The young man leads me to a large, conical hut close to the center of the village. Thick layers of peat cover the hut’s wooden frame, and the peat is dusted with a layer of snow. Smoke drifts out from the top. The young man gestures with both hands for me to stay put. Then he ducks inside the narrow, hide-covered doorway.

After a few minutes he emerges and points to my bow, then points to the ground. I clench my jaw, knowing what he wants. I peer inside the opening of the hut and see one woman sitting inside. This must be Lumi. Surely, I can handle a single woman alone. I give the young man my quiver and bow. He gestures to my hatchet, and I sigh, handing him that too.

With a nod, he lets me enter. I step inside the hut, mentally counting all the blades I still have hidden on my body. The door rattles shut behind me. A series of long, narrow branches are stacked in parallel to form the conical shape. It looks like I’m inside the rib cage of a forest giant. The floor is padded with a layer of reindeer furs that keep out the cold, save for a space in the middle for a stone-ringed hearth.

“Hello,” the woman says. “Won’t you sit down?” She flicks her hair back with a casual hand as she hangs a pot of water on a chain over the fire.

She’s beautiful, with high cheekbones and thick locks of auburn hair framing her face. Her beauty puts me on edge. And there’s a scent in the air, something sweet and pungent, almost cloying. It smells like fecund earth. It smells like secrets and mysteries and hidden truths.

It smells like magic.

This was a mistake. I should leave. Witch, shamaness, goddess—whatever she is, she’s no mere mortal.

“Remove your boots, please. We don’t want to track in the mud,” she says. “They tell me you’re Finn?”

“Yes.” I slip out of my boots, leaving the blades concealed within. Then I step on blue-socked feet over the reindeer pelts to where Lumi sits. Slowly, I sit across from her.

“What is your name, child?” she says with a smile. It’s her eyes that give her away. She has the glowing golden eyes of a wolf.

“Esteri.” I give her my dead mother’s name. Aina always says there’s power in knowing a name. I don’t want this woman to have any more power over me.

She appraises me through dark lashes, those golden eyes flashing. “No, that’s not it. But it’s fine. You may keep your secrets for now. Who are your people?”

“I’m from the south,” I reply.

She laughs softly. “That much is obvious. Everyone who is not Sámi is from the south.” She uses a forked stick to take the small pot of boiling water off the fire. “Would you like some tea? It’s just dried bilberry leaves and chamomile petals, but the taste is pleasant enough.”

I nod. I have no intention of drinking this tea.

The goddess gave me one instruction: don’t tarry. Yet here I am, tarrying again. I tarried at the steam and look where that led. I wince, swallowing through the pain in my throat. I should have just listened. I should have kept walking right past this village. But I never listen, and that’s my curse. I eye the door as Lumi pours herself a cup of tea. Then she’s handing one to me.

“How did you come to live with the Sámi?” I ask, cupping the hot clay cup with both hands.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she replies. “Hungry?”

“No,” I say as my stomach growls, giving me away.

She smiles. Slipping her hand inside a basket behind her, she pulls out a chunk of dried reindeer meat. Revealing a knife hidden in the pelts, she begins to cut the steak into bite-sized pieces. “If you reach behind you into the basket, there are some turnips and potatoes. Will you hand me one of each?”

I fish a turnip and a potato out of the woven pine needle basket, setting them on the rock slab before Lumi.

“Why has a young woman, alone and with so few provisions, traveled so far north?”

I raise the cup to my lips, breathing in the tea. It’s faintly floral, with a sharp sweetness. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I echo her.

The blade of her knife glints in the firelight with each cut she makes through the vegetables. “You conceal your name. Now you conceal your purpose.” She pauses, glancing at me across the fire. “You’re not interested in being friends, then.”

“The less you know, the safer I am.”

“Wise words,” she admits, returning to her chopping. “And has this philosophy served you well so far?”

I don’t answer.

Lumi pauses in her dicing, those glowing golden eyes searching my face. I stiffen, waiting for her to look away. “You’ve recently taken quite a beating,” she says. “The lump on your temple could be from a fall, but the faded bruise at your eye reeks of old magic. You smell like death, Esteri. And your throat... that was surely the work of a blade, dealt by a malicious hand. Someone wanted you dead.”

I hadn’t realized the collar of my jacket had opened enough to reveal the wound. It pains me awfully, and it’s only getting worse.

“It’s infected,” she says, tipping the chopped vegetables and chunks of reindeer meat into the stew pot. The pot hisses and bubbles. “If left untreated, it will kill you. I know some herbs that will cleanse it, but fire is best.”

I set down my cup of tea. “Are you asking my permission to hold a red-hot blade to my throat?”

She lets out a chiming laugh. “I guess that is how it sounded. I’m offering to help you, Esteri.”

“Are you a wisewoman?”

She stirs the stew. “Of a sort.”

I sigh. “Look, witch, I’m not interested in playing this game. I need provisions to finish my journey, and I have goods to trade. Will you deal with me, or shall I move on?”

She just keeps smiling. “The tea will kick in soon. We’ll talk again in the morning.”

My eyes narrow. “I didn’t drink the tea, but I’m glad to know I was right.” I get to my feet. “I’m going now. Try to stop me, and I’ll kill you where you—” I sway, my vision dancing with white spots. “Wha—what is this?” I lift my hands, blinking through the spots as I feel my arms go heavy. “What’s happening?”

“You didn’t need to drink the tea for it to work.” The witch’s voice sounds suddenly very far away. “The fumes have already filled your lungs.”

My heart races as panic burns in my gut. “No—”

“Just breathe.”

I drop to my knees, my vision going dark. “No—Kal—”

“Rest now,” says the witch. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

I wake to my own screaming. My throat is on fire. There’s pain like nothing I’ve ever known. Surely, my head is being cleaved from my neck. I try to fight off my attacker, but I can’t move. Not an inch. Every part of me is secured—my head, my arms, my chest. I blink my tired eyes open to see I’m trapped in a sitting position, my legs stretched out before me. From forehead to waist, I’m strapped to one of the beams of Lumi’s hut.

“There, there,” Lumi soothes. A Sámi woman moves away behind her, setting a red-hot knife on the edge of the hearth. “We had to bind to you,” Lumi explains. “Otherwise, you could have hurt yourself. Fire really was the only way to cleanse that nasty wound. Sleep now.”

She brushes a cooling hand across my fevered brow, and I spot a glint of silver peeking at her wrist. My eyes narrow on the braided silver bracelet. Rage burns in my gut as pain burns at my throat. “You—” It’s all I can rasp out through the pain.

She lifts a brow in question, following my gaze to her wrist. Then she lets out a soft laugh, brushing her fingers over my grandmother’s silver bracelet. The movement shows the second bracelet wrapped around her other wrist. “Consider these payment for services rendered,” she says. “Sleep, child. You’ll feel better when you wake.”

The smell of my own burning flesh hangs in the air, stinging my nostrils. Oh gods, this is it. This is how I’ll die, tied inside the hut of this scheming witch. No Aina, no V?in?moinen. Once again, I’ve failed. I’m not worthy of this task.

My sweet, brave Aina.

A tear slips down my cheek as the darkness takes me. At least, in death, I’ll see her again.