Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [44]
Eyes and nose streaming, out of breath, she held up the little book, not caring how foolish she looked. “My father is dying,” she sobbed.
The isbjørn squinted at Jorunn’s cramped handwriting and then sat back on his haunches. He looked up at the painting hanging on the wall above them—some creatures with horse legs and human torsos cavorting—and then down at her creased and bunched skirts of blue velvet.
“I have to go home,” she sobbed.
“You cannot.”
“Please,” she begged. She reached up and clutched at the fur of his neck, forcing him to look at her. “Please. I will come back. I need only to see him.”
He gave one of those sad, growling moans of his, that almost sounded like a cow lowing. “You will come back?”
“Yes, if you still want me.”
“I need you,” he said. “I will take you to your family today, but you must promise to come back. You must live here one year.”
“Yes, of course.” She pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief and mopped up her face. “Thank you so much, thank you!”
“You must promise me something else,” the bear said, his voice heavy.
“Anything!”
“Promise me that you will not tell anyone the secrets of the palace.”
“What?” The lass stopped blowing her nose to stare. She hadn’t thought that he knew about her discoveries. “You mean about the tr—”
“Hush! Do not speak of any of our secrets. To anyone.”
“All right.” She scrambled to her feet, feeling much better now that she knew she would be seeing her family soon. “I’ll go pack.” And she all but ran to her rooms.
Rollo came in a few minutes later. “Where have you been?” he panted.
“Talking to the isbjørn. Where have you been?”
With a loud rip, she tore the skirt of an ugly yellow dress free of its bodice. Then she laid the skirt on the bed and began placing gowns and shifts on it. Her old knapsack was not large enough to hold her new clothes, and she refused to go to Christiania looking shabby.
“I was looking for the isbjørn as well,” Rollo huffed. “I found Mrs. Grey instead. Then the bear roared down to the kitchens that we were going to Christiania, so I came here to tell you.”
“I know; I’m trying to pack.” She added some shoes to her pile.
“Here, my lady.” Mrs. Grey came in, holding a large leather knapsack.
“Oh.” She looked down at the dress she had just ruined. “Thank you, Mrs. Grey.” The lass changed into her old trousers and the white parka while the gargoyle repacked the lass’s things and put them into the knapsack.
In less than an hour she and the isbjørn were on their way across the snow plain, Rollo hard on their heels. The sun was so bright on the gleaming snow that the lass pulled the hood of the parka down over her eyes and buried her face in the bear’s fur. She dozed as they ran across the snow plain and into the forest. Less frightened and confused by this journey, she was able to see more of the landscape through which they traveled. They ran over hills and across frozen fjords. Night fell as they were running up the side of a mountain, and when the lass woke, the mountain was far behind them. She didn’t remember this from their first journey, and sat up as much as she could on the bear’s back.
“Where are we?” She had to shout for the sound to carry up to his ear.
“In the North,” he called back.
“This is not how we came before,” she shouted.
“We are going southwest, to Christiania,” he said.
Then he lowered his head and ran even faster through the foothills, dodging trees and boulders. Rollo scampered beside them, hardly even panting. The lass had to duck to avoid being struck by a tree branch.
In this fashion they continued on for another day, stopping only once to eat the food the salamanders had packed. By nightfall of the second day, they had reached the outskirts of the great city of Christiania, where the isbjørn had to leave the lass and Rollo.
“Christiania is no place for a snow bear, I suppose,” the lass said, trying to sound cheerful. She was anxious about her father, but she also felt a pang at leaving the isbjørn.
“No,” he said. His speech had become slower and more labored the farther