7

Aina

My dreams have been so dark of late. I dream about a forest. It’s night, and there’s no moon. Clouds cover the stars, and I’m running faster than I’ve ever run in my life. My bare feet pound the ground as I take panting breaths. I feel everything under my toes—soft moss, crunching leaves, roots, and rock.

I’m not running. I’m fleeing . The monster keeps pace with me, an enormous, shaggy black wolf with glowing red eyes. That color haunts me, like two droplets of blood. Feathered branches slap at my face. I cry out in fear, my voice breaking with the chill of the air. Why am I running? Why am I alone? Where is Siiri? The details of the dream slip away until a sharp pain in my forearm tears me from my sleep.

I’m awake.

This is my body, arms and legs weighed down by heavy blankets. I blink my eyes open, turning my head to either side. I’m in the middle of a large bed, toasty warm under a pile of furs. I’ve never slept in a proper bed before, not one built on a wooden frame, raised off the floor. I sit up, the furs slipping down around my waist. I’m in a strange room. The bed sits in the middle of one wall, the frame hung with thick curtains. On the far side of the room, a hearth glows with a welcoming fire. To either side of the hearth are two small, shuttered windows. The only other furnishings in the room are a small wooden table and a single chair.

I wrap one of the furs around my shoulders and slip my feet out the side of the bed, and my bare toes touch the cold, wood-planked floor. Why are my feet bare? The last thing I remember, I was wearing socks and my thick boots. I unfold the fur from around my shoulders and look down. My sturdy woolen dress is gone. Now, I’m in a white gown. The neckline is cut into a V, and the gown falls in folds to my ankles. It feels soft against my skin, but the feeling doesn’t soothe me. Someone had to strip me naked to clothe me.

Is this still a dream?

I pinch my arm and wince. Nothing else happens.

“I’m awake,” I murmur.

Moving over to the door on soft feet, I lift the latch and give it a little push. The door doesn’t budge. I rattle the latch again and push with my shoulder, but the door is locked. My chest tightens as I fight my growing panic. What would Siiri do?

Find a way out.

I drag the chair beneath a window and glance up, measuring the distance. It will be a difficult climb, but fear and courage pulse through me in equal measure. I step up onto the chair and pull the shutters inward. Cool night air blasts inside, making the fire spark. I tip up onto my toes and can only just peek out over the sill. It’s a rare moonless night, not a star in the sky. The same night from my dreams? From this angle, I can’t quite see the ground. Are there other houses close by? A forest? A lake?

Taking a deep breath, I pull up with all my might, scrambling to find a foothold with my bare feet. My right foot slips, and I cry out. I sink down to the chair but miss, dropping to the floor with a clatter, jarring my elbow painfully. “Ow, ow, ow.” A large splinter sticks out of my heel. I carefully pull it loose, grimacing as I set it aside. Blood flows freely from the wound.

Try again, you fool.

I let Siiri’s voice in my head give me strength.

Stop crying and get up. Don’t die in this room, and don’t wait for your captor to find you.

I climb back onto the chair and jump, pulling my head and shoulders towards the ledge. It’s working this time. I’m nearly there. I’m—

“Ahhh, it’s hot!”

I screech in pain, dropping back to the chair. Heart racing, I look down at my aching hands. My palms are bright red, as if I’d just wrapped them around a burning log. The red color fades, my palms returning to normal. I inspect the area where the splinter pierced my heel. The skin is smooth. No blood, no pain. I glance back up at the sill, my panic rising. I can’t get out. This room is my cage.

I slam the window shut. Turning away, I gasp in fright, both hands clutching my chest. Moments before, the table had been empty. Now, it contains a jug and a tray of barley bread. The smell of the bread makes me salivate. How long has it been since my last meal?

I pad on cold feet over to the table. The golden tray holding the bread glistens in the firelight. I pick up the jug first and sniff its contents. Just water. The moment I touch it, a cup appears next to the golden tray. I set the jug aside to examine the cup. It’s made of horn, but the bottom is gilded, finely etched in a feathered pattern. I’ve never seen ornamentation so delicate on such a simple object. I pour myself a cupful of the cold water and down it in a gulp, already feeling a little better.

Setting the cup aside, I reach for a loaf of barley bread, my stomach growling. I take a bite and hold back a moan of pleasure. This is the softest, most finely milled bread I’ve ever tasted. With my eyes closed, I feel like I’m standing in the field where the barley was grown. I can feel the sun warming my cheeks. It’s truly magical. If I reached out my hands, would they touch the bristled tops of the barley?

As soon as I swallow the bread, the sensation ends. I take another bite and gag, choking on the taste of slick, pungent mold. I spit out the piece in my mouth, looking down to inspect the rest. It looks like a perfectly normal loaf of bread.

Two other loaves wait on the golden tray. I set the moldy- tasting bread down and take up another loaf. That first bite is even more exquisite. Tears fill my eyes as I swallow the delicious morsel. But then I take another bite and gag, the foul taste of rot once more filling my senses. I set the bread aside, too afraid to try the third loaf. If I only get one bite, I’ll have to wait. I don’t know when I’ll be fed again.

Suppressing a shiver, I glance over at the bed. The pile of furs waits for me, enough to keep me warm in this strange place.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

My heart races as I look to the high window. Someone’s out there. Someone’s tapping at my window. Slowly, I take a step forward. A raven’s plaintive caw breaks the oppressive silence, and I let out a shaky breath. It quickly morphs into a nervous laugh.

There’s a raven on my windowsill.

I hurry over and pull open the shutter. The handsome raven ruffles his feathers and clicks his large beak, turning his head from side to side. One of his eyes is clouded and white, like a little full moon. The other is black as night. The black eye holds my gaze, and he caws loudly, clicking his beak again.

“Hello there,” I whisper, taking a step back.

The sharp talons on his scaly black toes scratch against the sill as he hops back and forth, still glancing around. Will the magic of this room keep him out, just as it keeps me in?

“Are you hungry, friend? Would you like some bread? I have plenty to spare.” Stepping over to the table, I pick up one of the loaves and tear off a small piece. The raven follows my every movement. He’s easily twice the size of a normal raven, almost the size of an eagle. He watches me with that curious, unblinking eye. I rise up on tiptoe and set the piece of bread on the sill. “Here you go, friend.”

The raven flutters his wings and squawks indignantly... but he stays.

“You’re such a handsome fellow,” I whisper. “My mother taught me the stories about Raven. You were born on a charcoal hill, with eyes like a mussel’s pearl. Your beak is made from a goblin’s sharp-tipped arrow... or some such nonsense. She says you’re a bad omen.”

The raven cocks his head at me. He almost looks affronted.

“I disagree with her, of course,” I add quickly. “I think ravens are lovely, clever birds. And here in this dark place, you’re my only friend.”

That seems to satisfy him, and I smile. His wings are glossy, the iridescent sheen almost glowing in the light of the fire. It is green and purple and blue at once, like the foxfires that light the sky in the far north. He’s beautiful. He makes quick work of my little offering, pecking the morsel of bread to pieces and cawing at me indignantly when it’s gone.

“How do you feel?” Even though he ate more than one bite, it doesn’t seem to be making him ill. “Just me then,” I say with a tired sigh, and then smile at the open expression of hunger on his face. “Greedy thing. Would you like some more?” I get another piece of bread and return to the window, lifting it up to the ledge.

As soon as he finishes his meal, he flaps his wings and disappears into the dark.

“Oh, don’t go,” I cry. “Please, don’t go. Please!”

But the raven doesn’t come back.

My room is freezing with both windows thrown open wide, but I don’t care. I’m waiting to see if Jaako will return. That’s what I’ve named the raven. Like my younger brother, he’s black of hair and seems just a little bit mischievous. By my guess, it’s been two days since he was last here. Two days with no sunrise. No sunset. The bread remains cursed so that each bite I take after the first tastes like mold in my mouth. My stomach aches with hunger, and I’m tired. But I can’t sleep. I don’t dare waste my water to bathe. At least my fire never dies. Just when I think I’ve burned my last log, a new stack appears.

Trapped in this room, I’ve done everything I know to escape. I tried picking the lock, removing the door’s hinges. I even tried climbing out the other window. I abandoned that plan after I fell and nearly broke my leg. Desperate, I took to knocking. Then I pounded on the door, rattling it in the frame. I’ve screamed out my windows until I thought my throat would bleed. I’ve spent hours listening for movement beyond the door.

Nothing.

I see nothing. I hear nothing. Not even the nighttime crickets in the grass or frogs at the water’s edge. No howling of wolves in the distant hills. No laughter from a neighboring homestead.

I’m alone.

It’s the strangest feeling. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so utterly alone.

“I used to pray for solitude,” I say to no one at all. “Just a moment of peace without the prying eyes of Siiri or my family.” I let out a little laugh, feeling a pang of guilt at the admission. “Now, I’m praying for the attention of a raven.” My fingers pause. “Gods, I must be going mad.”

I laugh again, unable to help myself. Before long, tears are in my eyes and I’m short of breath. It’s in that moment, doubled over on the bed, that I hear it—the gentle rustle of wings. I look to the window, scrambling to the edge of the bed as the raven appears. He lands on my windowsill and greets me with a caw.

“Hello, Jaako,” I say, breathless.

The beautiful bird tips his head at me, curious.

“Oh, I gave you a name,” I say. “I hope you don’t mind.” He clicks his beak, and I smile. “Won’t you come in?” I gesture to my table and chair as if he’s a traveler in need of refreshment.

Jaako hops forward, ruffling his feathers.

“It’s all right,” I soothe. “I can’t go out, but I think you may be able to come in. I’d like it so very much if you would. I’d like to have a friend. Shall we break our fast together?”

He hesitates, hopping on the sill in nervous agitation. Unable to resist the allure of my barley bread, he flutters in off the windowsill, landing on the back of my chair.

My heart thrums with excitement. “Oh, Jaako, you did it.”

He clicks his beak, seemingly just as delighted to learn the magic can’t keep him out. It feels significant somehow, having him in the room with me rather than just on the sill. Now I’m truly not alone.

“I wish I had another chair,” I say. “Then we could sit and chat like old friends. What I wouldn’t give for some hot tea too. My mother makes the most delicious teas—blackcurrant leaf, dried nettle and lemon balm, raspberry mint. Do you like tea?”

The raven hops off the chair onto the table, his talons clicking on the wood until he situates himself on the table’s edge. He bobs his head at the empty chair, and I grin.

“Is this chair for me? Thank you, Jaako.” I take a seat, pouring myself a cup of water. “I’m sorry to say my options are quite limited. Your choices are barley bread... or barley bread. But since you so kindly offered to join me, I’ll let you pick the loaf.”

Jaako glances at the barley loaves with his good eye, flashing me the pearly white one.

“Did you hurt yourself?” I murmur, noting the appearance of a scar cutting over the eye. “Can you see out of that eye?” I reach my hand out to the side and wave it. “Can you see this?”

Jaako tips his head, letting his black eye spy my hand, and clicks his beak in assent.

I smile again. “Cheater. If we’re to be friends, you have to behave. Have you picked which loaf we’ll share?”

He hops forward, tapping a loaf with his beak.

“Good choice,” I say, reaching for it. That I’m talking to this raven, and that he seems to understand me, is a problem I’ll solve on another day. For now, I’m just desperate for the company. “I hope you don’t think me rude, but I’m going to take the first bite.” The raven watches as I take the largest bite I can fit in my mouth. I stifle my groan, savoring the taste as I let the aroma of the barley fill my senses. I chew and swallow, setting the bread between us on the table. “The rest is for you.”

He cocks his head at me and clicks his beak.

“I don’t mind, really. Take as much as you’d like. I can’t eat any more.”

Jaako hops forward and taps the loaf with his beak, trying to nudge it closer to me.

“No, I can’t,” I say again. “I can only take one bite.”

He stills, glancing up at me with his good eye, a question written on his impish face.

“I think it’s cursed,” I admit. “The first bite tastes like...” I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, conjuring the taste in my mind. “It tastes like the first barley ever milled by the great Sampo. It tastes like sun and earth and water. It tastes like... life itself.” I open my eyes, blinking back tears, my smile falling. “But every bite after tastes like death. The bread crumbles like rot in my mouth. It spoils and makes me sick.”

The raven clicks his beak, clearly agitated, then hops forward and lets out a soft caw.

“It’s all right.” Reaching out a hand, I stroke his silky head. “It’s not your fault. I have three loaves a day. That’s three bites to fill my belly. And it leaves me enough to share with you,” I add, giving him a weak smile. He nudges my hand, and I stroke him again, letting my fingers trail down his strong back. I lower my face closer to him, focusing on his good eye. “Where am I, Jaako? What is this dark place? Am I in danger?”

He gives me a pitying look, and I know the truth. I’ve known it from the moment I woke in this strange place.

Yes , he says without words. You are in danger .

I swallow my fear, leaning back in my chair, still stroking his feathered back. “You’re a clever bird, Jaako. Clever even for a raven. You understand me, don’t you?”

He bobs his head. In any other situation, I might find it charming. But some dark magic is keeping me trapped in this room. Magic is starving me slowly. And now magic has gifted me this raven. I glance down at the handsome bird. “I think my mother may be right,” I whisper, letting my hand drop away from him.

He cocks his head at me, watching me, a question in his eyes.

“I think you may be a bad omen.”

Jaako casts me an indignant glare.

I lower my face to his, one elbow on the table. “If you’re not... prove it. Help me, Jaako. Whatever magic is here in this place, use it to help me escape.”