The Raven's Gift - Don Rearden [76]
Anna and John headed upstream in the dark, where the river led to one lake after another. The wind had died down enough to make walking on the ice possible. A few days earlier they cut the nightly walk short because Anna was getting blown sideways and could hardly stand. The fresh coat of snow gave their boots some grip, and the relative calm made the sub-zero temperatures feel almost warm. The clear blue-black sky seemed within reach, and a waning pale moon lit the snow.
“Let’s wait until summer. You can make it. Save our money and then take an extended break somewhere special,” she said. “Ten days isn’t enough. It’s a day and a half to travel each way! Besides, didn’t Carl say he would take you caribou hunting?”
“Not enough snow to travel where the herds are this year,” he said. “Carl said they might just appear out of nowhere at any time, but probably not this year.”
“Like Santa’s magic reindeer! Look, we can celebrate Christmas with them and go starring. Carrie said it’s so much fun.”
“This is starring enough. Packing this entire village into one house? Singing and eating fish-head soup or moose stew for hours does not sound like fun to me,” he said.
“Don’t be a Grinch. Wow. Look at those stars. Turn your headlamp off. You don’t even need it.”
He snapped off his headlamp and let his eyes adjust. The snow crystals covering the lake ice sparkled in the moonlight.
“That feast we went to last week nearly killed me. You know I can’t handle being crammed in like that, with so many people.”
“Well, I’m going to try it. You’re the one always talking about participating in village activities. Fighting your fears will be good for you, remember?”
“So we’re staying?”
They stopped walking. She leaned in close to him and warmed her nose against his neck.
“I think we should,” she said. “We’ll cuddle up, read some good books. Go for some walks on clear nights like this. It’ll be nice. Maybe Carl will let you borrow his snow machine and we can try to drive to Bethel or something. Get some Chinese food.”
“We’ll need more snow for that.”
They continued walking. The moon hung just above the snowy tundra plain, and two long shadows walked beside them. He pulled back his parka sleeve. His watch read 6:30.
“I can’t wait until the sun sticks around a bit longer,” he said.
“I kind of like the long nights myself. It’s romantic. Can you imagine that three or four hundred people will be coming here for Slaviq?”
“You’re really excited about this whole Russian Christmas thing, aren’t you?”
“What’s there not to be excited about? A week of celebrating Christmas? Food? Singing? Come on, Ebenezer.”
“I just can’t visualize it,” he said, reaching down to scoop up some snow. “Packing so many people into these little houses. I don’t see how they can hold the weight. It just sounds crazy to me. Plus it’s Russian. Don’t you find that odd?”
“They were here first.”
“Second. The Yup’ik people were here first, remember.”
“Excuse moi.”
“Now if this was some sort of traditional Yup’ik celebration, I’d be all about it.”
“You don’t have to be so anti-Christian all the time, you know. Maybe this celebration has some roots in their old ways of life. You don’t know.”
“Okay, I give in,” he said. “Just promise me we don’t have to host dinner for the whole community. We don’t have enough food to pull something like that off. I don’t know how anyone does.”
She grabbed on to his arm. He flicked some of the snow he was carrying in her direction. He scooped up another handful and pressed it into her face and rubbed it playfully. She laughed and when he pulled his glove away, the snow remained on her cheeks and lips. He pulled her toward him and licked it off her salty cool skin.
“Mmm.”
“Thanks a lot! Now my cheeks are going to freeze,” she said. “Let’s go home and you can make me dinner.” They turned back and headed toward the village. Then Anna stopped. “It’s so beautiful.