Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [3]
“I’m going too,” she announced, and got up from her place by the fire. She felt a little thrill of fear, but thought that if any trolls confronted her, she would claim to be her sister Annifrid.
“What?” Hans Peter looked startled. He dropped the piece of wood he was carving and took one of her hands in his own. “My little lass, this is not a good thing to do.”
“I’ll be all right,” she told him, mustering confidence she did not feel.
“There are no parkas left,” Hans Peter pointed out.
“I’ll use a blanket,” the lass said after a moment’s consideration. She had set her mind to finding that reindeer, for Hans Peter’s sake, and nothing would deter her.
“You’ll freeze to death,” their mother said shrilly. “If you’d wanted a parka to wear, you should have moved faster. Come and stir this soup; I still have stockings to darn.”
“No.” The lass put her chin up. “I will find the white reindeer.”
“Then wear mine,” Hans Peter said. He climbed up to the loft and the lass heard him rummaging in his sea chest. He rarely opened it, and she could hear the hinges squeak in protest when the lid closed. Hans Peter descended the ladder and held out a parka and a pair of boots. “These will keep you warm. And safe.”
“Oh, I couldn’t!” Her hands rose to her cheeks, stunned by the beauty of the items he held before her.
The boots and parka were lined with the finest, whitest fur she had ever seen. On the outside they were of softly felted wool as white as new snow, embroidered with bands of bloodred and azure blue. The spiky patterns of the embroidery matched the style of the carvings that Hans Peter made, but none of these symbols were familiar to the lass.
“You can and you will,” he said, holding them out. “The boots are too big for you, of course. But if you keep your old boots on underneath, they’ll work well enough. Strap on some snowshoes and you’ll be able to walk like a bear. And the parka will cover you from stem to stern, which is a good thing in this cold.”
“Those things are too fine for her,” their mother snapped, her gleaming eyes checking the seams and verifying the quality. “We could sell them to the next trader for a pretty penny, and no mistake.” She crossed her arms under her bosom. “Why did you not say before that you had such things to trade? And here the family is going wanting!”
“I’ll not sell these for love nor money,” Hans Peter said. His eyes held the dead look that they’d had when he first arrived home, the look that was only now beginning to fade.
“But,” Frida began.
“I’ll not sell these for love nor money,” her eldest son repeated. “I earned them with blood, and I’ll part with them when death takes me, but not before. The lass shall have them tonight, and after that, back into the chest they go!”
Not wanting to argue with him in this strange, fierce mood, the lass took the proffered clothing and put it on. The parka extended well past her knees and the boots rose to meet it. With her own scuffed boots underneath, they were just snug enough, and she had to push the heavy sleeves of the parka back in order to use her hands.
“I’ve never been so warm,” she said in wonder. She had never known what it was like to feel the glow over your whole body that you felt on your cheeks and hands when you sat close to the fire.
Her brother pulled the hood up, tucking in her hair, and pulled the ribbons to tighten it around her face. “God willing, one day you shall be this warm all the time,” he told her, his voice gruff with emotion. Then he held back the sleeves while she tugged on her mittens, and she went off in search of the white reindeer.
Chapter 3
It did not take long for the young lass to find the trail of the other searchers. The snow had become so trampled and muddied that it was hard to see what they were following; any signs left by the white reindeer had long been obliterated. Even through