Once Upon A Time (8) Winter’s Child

by Cameron Dokey

  I reached the end of the street, following Kai’s footprints as they went around the corner. I was so intent on following this strange path that it wasn’t until I reached the outskirts of town that I realized the truth:

  Kai’s steps headed straight toward the horizon.

  TWELVE

  By morning, I was well into the mountains. Though the sunlight made Kai’s footsteps more difficult to see, I was glad for it. The mountains, with the entrances to the mines yawning like great dark mouths, were an eerie, unsettling place to be at night. Were it not for the steady pace of Kai’s footsteps showing me the way, I’m sure I would have become lost.

  Sometime during the night, my ears had caught the voice of a stream, and in the morning light, I could see that my path ran right beside it. It rushed ahead, flush with snowmelt. I continued to walk until I came to a place where the flow of water broadened, becoming wide and shallow.

  Here, a clump of fat boulders clustered together, as if inviting weary travelers to sit down and take a rest. I obliged, resisting the temptation to take off my shoes and stockings and wade into the stream. The thought might have sounded inviting, but it was still early spring and I knew the water would be icy.

  I sipped from my water skin, ate a piece of cheese and an apple, and contemplated my surroundings. The mountains were beautiful. They also made me claustrophobic. They pressed close together, leaning in as if wishing to peer over one another’s shoulders. I could not see the horizon. I remembered Kai’s father, buried to death deep within the earth, and I shivered.

  Time to keep moving, Grace, I thought. It was far too early in the journey to be indulging in such morbid thoughts.

  I got to my feet, then bent to refill my water skin. I hadn’t consumed much, but I had no idea how long my journey might take and I knew I could not be without water. Food I might forage or beg for if it came to that.

  The water was cold enough to make me gasp. I filled my skin as quickly as I could, and then returned it to my pack. I settled the straps of the pack over my shoulders and turned back toward the path. I could just see the faint outlines of Kai’s footsteps.

  I began to walk once more.

  By midday the sun had grown warm enough that I could take off my cloak. I added it to the contents of the pack. Without the extra layer of the cloak, the straps of the pack dug into my shoulders. I will have blisters if this keeps up, I thought.

  In the span of no more than half a dozen steps, I was cross. Cross with myself, but most of all, I was cross with Kai. What did he think he was doing, stealing away in the middle of the night? He hadn’t even said good-bye. He had made the most momentous decision of his life without me. He’d gone off and left me behind.

  “So much for me not loving you enough,” I muttered aloud as I stomped along.

  The path was more uneven now, filled with sharp chips of slippery stone. Somewhere, I felt certain, there had to be a broader way, an easier way; the path the traders with their carts and horses used to cross the mountains.

  “But you couldn’t go that way, could you? Oh, no,” I said, continuing to speak aloud. “You had to go and pick the hard way. You had to follow the Winter Child.

  “Ow!”

  Busy stomping out my thoughts, I’d let my eyes stray just long enough for my foot to find a large and contrarily shaped stone. It had rolled over, turning my ankle right along with it.

  “Oh, fine. You’re happy now, aren’t you?” I exclaimed aloud, still talking to Kai.

  I always had insisted that all you needed to do to get where you were going was to put one foot in front of the other. Kai always had been equally insistent that this only worked if the path was on your side. Apparently, the current path hadn’t quite made up its mind as to how it felt about me.

  Several steps ahead, a particularly sharp stone sat in the middle of the path. I sent it skittering with a quick, defiant kick.

  “All I did was ask for a little more time!” I shouted. “Was that so wrong? We were talking about the rest of our lives. Just because I wasn’t ready to settle down right that second. ... For the record, I never said I didn’t love you, Kai. I do love you, and if you weren’t such a pigheaded idiot, you’d know it!”

  At that moment, as if the sound of my voice had startled it into flight, high above my head I heard a bird call, the sound keen and fierce. I paused and looked up, shading my eyes from the glare of the sun. I caught a flash of white as the bird plummeted downward. In the next moment, it spread its wings, the shape of them sharp as an etching against the sun.

  It must be a hunting bird of some kind, I thought. A hawk or a falcon. City birds I knew well from my many hours on the roof, but I was not as familiar with the wild birds. The bird banked low, and now I could see its dark head. Its body was dappled black and white, like the flanks of a horse.

  I watched, my heart in my throat, as the bird’s wings beat in the air, soaring upward once more. He’s not hunting, I thought. He’s simply reveling in flight. Reveling in motion.

  “Oh, how beautiful you are!” I exclaimed, the words rising straight from my heart. “How I wish that I could be like you. How I wish that I could fly!”

  What a glorious thing it must be, I thought, to be able to leave the earth behind. To see it spread out below you in all its infinite possibilities.

  What did the horizon look like from the sky?

  As if it had heard both my words and my thoughts, the bird cried out once more. Then it folded its wings and shot toward the earth. I lost sight of it in a fold of the mountains. As quickly as my elation had come, it abandoned me. I was hot and I was tired.

  What do you think you’re doing, Grace? I thought. Kai left without saying good-bye. He left you for the Winter Child. An enchanted princess straight out of a bedtime story. You think you can compete with that?

  You turned Kai away. What makes you think he’ll welcome you with open arms? Assuming you actually find him in the first place.

  “Stop it. Just stop it,” I cried aloud. Thoroughly frustrated with myself, I yanked off my pack and threw it to the ground. “If you’re going to think like that, you might as well go home right now. You didn’t even last a day. That’s pretty pathetic.”

  I have no idea how the argument I waged with myself would have ended if it had been allowed to run its course. It wasn’t. Before I could berate myself any further, I heard the falcon’s cry, right behind me. I whirled around. The bird swept toward me, claws outstretched. I cried out and lifted a hand to protect my face.

  With a rush of wings, the falcon swept past me. It scooped my pack off the ground and carried it away.

  “Come back here!” I shouted. I began to run, stumbling as my feet sought purchase on the slippery stone path. “You can’t have that,” I yelled. “I need it. It’s mine!”

  Up ahead, the path took an abrupt turn to the right. I propelled myself around the corner, then skidded to a stop, abruptly confronted by an unexpected confusion of images, a cacophony of sounds. Before I could begin to make sense of any of them, something rough and scratchy was tossed over my head. Sharp pain exploded through my skull. Stars danced before my eyes, and I remembered nothing more.

  THIRTEEN

  Story the Eighth

  In Which Grace Makes a New Friend but Encounters Several Obstacles

  When I came to, I was lying flat on my back. A rock the size of a goose egg was digging into my spine. Above my head, the light was beginning to dim; the sun hung low in the sky.

  Slowly, I sat up. The motion made my stomach lurch and my head pound. I made a low moan of protest even as I persevered.

  “I’m sorry about how hard he hit you,” a nearby voice said. I swung my head toward the sound, then wished I hadn’t as the world began to spin.

  “I wish he hadn’t hit me at all,” I croaked out. I put my head into my hands until the spinning stopped, then raised it again, more cautiously this time. The figure of a girl about my age swam into view. She was sitting on a boulder near a smal
l, bright campfire, stirring the contents of a pan suspended on a tripod. There was a tent pitched just beyond her.

  “Who’s he?” I asked.

  “Harkko, my brother,” the girl answered without looking up. “He and Papa think you mean to harm us. They think you’re not alone. They’ve gone scouting to locate the rest of your group.”

  “They’re wasting their time,” I said. “I am alone.”

  The girl gave the side of the saucepan a sharp rap with her spoon.

  “That’s craziness!” she exclaimed. She turned to look at me now, her dark brown eyes wide. Her head was covered by a deep green headscarf. Hair the same color as her eyes peeked out at her temples. She wore a simple dress of coarse homespun wool. Her boots were even sturdier than mine.

  “No one goes through the mountains alone.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying,” I protested at once. “Why would I?”

  The girl shrugged. “How should I know? You’re a stranger,” she replied. As if the fact of my foreignness explained everything and nothing all at once.

  “Do you hit every stranger you meet over the head?” I asked.

  “It’s not a bad plan,” the girl answered calmly. “It’s always better to strike first and ask questions later. That’s the way to stay alive.”

  “It’s also the way to hurt innocent people or make enemies,” I observed.

  The girl did not reply. She took the pan off the tripod and poured its contents into a mug. Then she brought the mug over to me.

  “Drink this,” she said. “It will help to ease the pain in your head.”

  “How do I know it’s not poison to put me out of my misery completely?” I asked waspishly.

  She grinned. “You don’t. But I suggest you drink it anyhow. It really will help you feel better.” I accepted the mug, and she sat down beside me. “My name is Petra,” she said after a moment, as if making a peace offering.

  I took a cautious first sip, grimacing as the hot liquid burned my tongue. The taste was bitter, but not so unpleasant that I couldn’t bear it. I took several more sips. Petra was right. After a few moments, my head did begin to feel better.

  “I’m Grace,” I said, offering my name in return. We sat in silence for several moments.

  “Now tell me the truth,” Petra said. “How many of you are there?”

  “I already told you. I’m alone.”

  She made a disbelieving sound. “You’re a city girl. It’s written all over you,” she said. “Why would you come on your own into the mountains?”

  “I’m following a friend,” I said.

  “Oh, I see!” Petra exclaimed at once. “You mean a sweetheart.”

  “No! Well, not exactly,” I said. I set the mug on the ground. “It’s complicated.”

  “Sweethearts are always complicated,” Petra said. “But if he’s jilted you, then it is much more straight-forward. He must be caught and punished. Do you have no father or brothers to do this for you?”

  “No, I don’t,” I said. “And Kai didn’t jilt me. He ...”

  All of a sudden, I jumped to my feet. Adrenaline surged through my body. “The footprints!” I cried.

  Petra got to her feet. “What footprints?” she demanded. “What are you talking about?”

  I ignored her. Instead, I dashed from one side of the campground to the other, searching the ground. Kai’s footprints were nowhere to be seen.

  I had lost the trail. I had no way to follow Kai and the Winter Child.

  FOURTEEN

  I gave a low moan and sank to my knees, my face in my hands. What was I going to do now? I hadn’t even been gone a day, and I had already lost the trail.

  “Stop that,” Petra said. She gave my shoulders a rough shake. “Stop it right now. That’s a disgraceful way to behave! As if you had no courage at all.”

  “You don’t know what I’m up against,” I said fiercely, as I raised my head. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  She extended a hand. “Then tell me. Quickly, before Papa and Harkko return.”

  I took the hand she offered and let her pull me to my feet. Together, we walked over to the fire. Petra gave the contents of a cast-iron pot a stir.

  “Now then,” she said.

  I took a deep breath, and told her.

  “I take back what I said about you not having any courage,” Petra remarked when my tale was over. “You’re either the bravest or the most foolish person I ever laid eyes on. No one can do what you’re attempting. No one can follow the Winter Child.”

  “I was doing a pretty good job of it,” I said, “until your brother hit me over the head.”

  “I’m sorry,” Petra said, and I heard the honesty in her voice. “There was no way to know. What will you do now? Will you go back to the city?”

  I considered this for a moment. “No,” I answered slowly. “I’ll continue north, I guess. Surely I’ll come to the land of ice and snow, if only I can walk for long enough.”

  “I wonder,” Petra said, her expression thoughtful. Without warning, she stood. She marched over to the tent and disappeared inside it. A moment later, she returned with something slung over one shoulder.

  “My pack!” I cried.

  “My pack, I think you mean,” Petra replied calmly.

  “You’re nothing but a thief!” I cried.

  “My people prefer the term ‘bandit,’” Petra said in the same infuriatingly calm tone. “It’s so much more romantic, don’t you think?”

  “It amounts to the same thing,” I said. “You take what isn’t yours.”

  “But as soon as I’ve taken it, it is mine,” she replied. “Be quiet now. That isn’t what I want to talk about. I want to talk about how you and I can help each other.” She resumed her position beside me.

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” I said sullenly.

  “Of course you don’t. I haven’t explained it yet.” Petra opened the pack and rummaged through its contents. After a moment she pulled out my grandmother’s shawl.

  “Did you steal this?” she asked.

  “Of course not!” I replied. “I made it for my grandmother. I did the embroidery myself.”

  Petra leaned in close, thrusting her face right into mine. “You made these stitches?” she asked fiercely. “You’re telling me the truth?”

  “I’m telling you the truth,” I said. “Now you tell me why you want to know.”

  Petra sat back, Oma’s shawl in her lap. After a moment she leaned forward and draped it over my shoulder. With one foot, she scooted the pack over until it rested in front of me.

  “I’ve lived in that tent all my life,” she said, jerking her head in its direction. “Traveling with my family from place to place, taking what we need to survive. I’m tired of it, so tired I could scream. I want a real home. A home with four walls and a bed. I’ll never get one as I am now. But if I could do fine work like that ...”

  “You could earn a good living in the city,” I said, grasping her point at once. “It’s what I used to do. But it didn’t happen overnight. It takes time.”

  “I’m already good with my needle,” Petra insisted. “I have to be, don’t I? Who else would do the sewing? I just don’t know how to do fancy work like that.”

  “If I teach you, what will you offer in return?” I asked.

  “What you need to know to continue your journey,” Petra answered. “I will teach you how to find your way by the light of the stars.”

  By the time Petra’s father and brother had returned to camp, we had settled things between us. I would teach her the embroidery stitches she would need to know to do fancy needlework. She would teach me how to follow the North Star. The first, we would explain to her father. The second, we would keep to ourselves.

  “Papa will want to keep you with us,” Petra explained as we worked together to prepare the evening meal. “Particularly once I am gone.”

  “Wait a minute. What do you mean once you�
�re gone?” I exclaimed.

  “Shhh,” Petra said. “Keep your voice down!”

  From across the campground, Petra’s brother lifted his head to gaze in our direction. Then he lowered it again, returning his attention to the snare he was mending. The falcon sat on a wooden perch nearby. The falcon’s return had been the signal that Petra’s father and brother were approaching the camp.

  I did not like the look of Petra’s brother, Harkko. His face was sullen and brooding, like an overcast sky before a storm. Both Petra’s father and brother were harsh-featured. They did not speak much. When they’d first returned to camp, Petra’s father had come directly to me.

  “You will tell me the truth, if you know what’s good for you,” he’d said. “You are traveling alone?”

  “I am traveling alone,” I had said.

  He’d given a grunt. “Then you are foolish but not a liar. I could find no other tracks. Make yourself useful and we’ll see what I decide.”

  After that he had gone about his business and had ignored me.

  “Tell me what you’re talking about,” I whispered to Petra now.

  She gave the stew a quick stir. “Papa wants to marry me off to old Janos’s favorite son,” she said in a low voice. “This would give our family the right to trade in the flatlands. We could come down out of the mountains.”

  You mean you could steal in the flatlands, I thought. “But you don’t want to get married,” I said aloud.

  Petra gave a snort. “Not to old Janos’s son. He’s a brute. Compared to him, Harkko is a sweetheart. Hand me that plate.”

  I complied. She began dishing out stew. “I don’t suppose it occurred to you to mention this before now.”

  “It’s something else I’m teaching you,” Petra answered.

  “Oh really, and what would that be?” I asked.

  She handed me the stew-filled plate. “How to drive a hard bargain. We’ll talk to Papa after dinner,” she went on. “He’s always in a better mood when his stomach is full. We will tell him this skill you offered to teach me will increase my value as a bride. Say this is how you will earn your keep until we reach the far side of the mountains.”