Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [20]
The other bear let out a strange, keening cry. It started to back farther away but couldn’t seem to break free from the enchanted isbjørn’s gaze.
Then the smaller bear wheeled around and ran for the edge of the ravine. The lass cried out, knowing that the snow there was jutting out over thin air and would not hold his weight. The bear stopped just short of the most dangerous part, though, and reared up onto his hind legs. He roared, much as the enchanted bear had done earlier. And, like there had been earlier, there was a twang, and a thunk, as a crossbow bolt made contact.
Only this time, it did not hit a tree. It found its mark deep in the heart of the other isbjørn, and the beast fell backward into the snow.
“No!” The lass started forward, but the enchanted bear barred the way.
“Get on my back,” he growled.
“We have to help him.”
“He’s dead. Get on now,” the bear said, still blocking her. When she hesitated, he turned his head and bared his teeth. “You wanted family wealthy. So.”
The lass sagged. She could hear the scrabbling sounds of her brother Askeladden climbing up the side of the ravine to his quarry. He would take it back to Christiania, and it would be made into a coat for the king. And Askeladden would be rich and famous, just as he and Frida had always dreamed.
Just as the lass had asked.
“Wish wisely,” the isbjørn said, guessing her thoughts.
Subdued, the lass climbed on his back and the isbjørn began to run. He ran away from the ravine, fast and faster, and the lass kept an eye on the ground to the right, where Rollo ran alongside them. She could hardly believe that a bear, a great ungainly bear, could run so fast. Nor that her own dear wolf could keep pace with them. The cold wind tore the tears from her eyes and sent them running back beneath her hood to soak her hair at the temples. The black trees turned to a blur, and then she saw Rollo dropping behind.
“Wait, stop,” she cried, thumping the bear’s shoulder with her fist. “Rollo. He can’t keep up.”
The bear stopped, sliding a bit in the snow. He grunted. “Must go even faster,” he told her. They waited for a full minute before Rollo caught up, and when he did, he fell sideways into a drift, wheezing.
“You’ll have to carry him, too,” the lass told the bear.
“Can’t. Won’t stay on,” the isbjørn argued. “Leave behind.”
“Absolutely not. I told you, Rollo comes, or I don’t.” She folded her arms in a mutinous pose, even though the bear couldn’t see her. “Go slower.”
The bear sighed. The lass almost slid off his back into the snow with the force of it. Rollo got to his feet, anxious to show that he was ready to run again, but his sides still heaved with his labored breathing.
The isbjørn swung his head around until he was standing nose to nose with the wolf. Every muscle in the lass’s body went rigid. It reminded her of the way he had stood to stare down the other bear, the one who had been sacrificed for her sake, and her family’s fortune.
But this time the isbjørn did not talk. Black eyes stared into gold, and the bear made a little singing sound deep in his throat. Rollo’s ears pricked forward, and his hackles raised. When the bear looked away from him, the wolf shook himself, his tongue lolling and his breathing easy.
“I could run all night,” he said. “I feel marvelous.” He stretched, arching his back like a cat.
“Good. We go.”
And the isbjørn ran again, covering the snowy terrain even faster than it had before. The lass had to crouch low against his back, clinging with both hands to his fur, her legs locked to his rib cage. She spared only one look for Rollo, who ran beside the bear as easily as he might have chased a rabbit across the yard. After that she dared not look again, for the wind had so dragged at her head when she lifted it that she had almost been ripped from the bear’s back. Instead she buried her face in the warm fur and clung for dear life as the bear ran