Page 5

Little Halvard, sitting with his head against their mother’s knee and her hand against his cheek, said, “Don’t faint, Gytha.”

She put a hand against the edge of the table, and the wood was solid and warm against her frozen fingers. Little Halvard’s face, turned toward her with concern in his huge blue eyes, split into two wavering images.

“I’m hot,” she gasped, and she stumbled across the lodge to the door. She wrenched it open and fell to hands and knees in the snow outside .

Solveig darted across the lodge and out to her, closing the door behind her. “Come, Gytha.” She pulled at Gytha’s arm.

“I can’t. I’m so hot.” Belying this, Gytha had begun to shiver and tremble.

She could not decide whether she wanted to be wrapped in blankets and crawl into the fire or bury herself in the snow.

Her skin was hot but she felt like there was ice inside her, skittering like fear through her burning skin and up her spine.

One hand slipped, and she fell on her face in the snow. With a groan, she curled onto her side.

Suddenly, the bear appeared out of the swirling, snow-filled darkness. He snuffled at Gytha’s face.

“She smells of death.” His voice rumbled so quietly that the girls barely heard him over the wind.

“Does that mean she will die?” Solveig looked up at the great beast.

The bear sighed. “I would…”

His soft words were cut off by a furious shout. Ivarr appeared out of the whirling snow and threw himself at the bear’s face, beating at the creature’s eyes. “Get away from them!” He tried to dig his fingers into the bear’s eyes.

The bear gave a roar of pain and shook his head, dislodging Ivarr, who fell beside Gytha. Ivarr scrambled to his feet and stood protectively over the girls. “Get away!” he shouted, waving his arms and taking a step toward the bear.

The bear rose to his full height and looked down at the man. A deep scratch at the edge of one eye bled down his huge muzzle.

Sigrid opened the door, having heard the noise, and screamed.

Ivarr shouted again at the bear. Then he cried, “Get Gytha inside! And give me my axe!”

Sigrid tossed the axe into the snow near him and grabbed at Gytha’s feet .

“Wait.” The bear’s voice rumbled as deep as thunder.

Ivarr caught up the axe and advanced on the bear. “Get away from my daughters.”

The great bear shook his head, and drops of red scattered across the snow. “I mean your daughters no harm. Nor you, either.”

Ivarr heard only roaring, and his eyes widened with fear. Yet still he advanced, putting himself between his daughters and the bear.

Behind him, Gytha shoved herself to hands and knees. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Just a little dizzy.”

“I can help you.” The bear’s voice rumbled like distant thunder, deep and wild and raw. “Tell your father I mean you no harm.”

Gytha struggled to her feet, leaning hard on Sigrid, and gasped, “Pabbi, wait! He’s a friend. Please.”

“Get inside!” Ivarr’s voice cracked. “ Please , Gytha!”

The wind caught at Ivarr’s coat so suddenly and so roughly that he staggered, and as he did so, the bear reached forward with one huge paw and knocked the axe from his hands. The beast shoved closer, crowding Ivarr back with his great shoulder.

Then the bear was face to face with Gytha. “You’re dying,” he said, the deep voice thick with grief. “Please let me help you.”

“If you can help me, you can help my mother.” The words tumbled from Gytha without forethought, and she stood straighter, one hand braced on Sigrid’s shoulder.

“Of course.” The bear ducked its huge head. “But please, will you trust me? I wish to ask a great favor of you, one that requires sacrifice from you. But I believe you are brave enough for it. I have seen you endure suffering with grace, and I have no one else to ask. ”

“I would do anything to save my mother.” Gytha shifted her weight to her own two feet and her knees buckled.

The bear shoved his head under her arm, so that she fell over his neck with her face buried in his thick fur.

The warmth of him, pine-scented and wild, filled her lungs, and she felt a little more clear-headed.

“Don’t hurt my father. Please, Master Bear. ”

Ivarr was shoving desperately at the bear from the other side, unable to reach his axe or his daughters.

“He does not hear my voice, so he is frightened.” The bear shifted again, presenting his broad side to Ivarr and his bleeding face to Gytha. “Tell your sisters to bring your mother, and any others who are sick, and I will do what I can for them.”

“Bring Mamma outside, please.” The words tasted strange in Gytha’s mouth, full of fear and desperation. Sigrid’s shadowed eyes widened, and Gytha whispered, “ Please , Sigrid!”

Ivarr twisted beneath the bear’s neck and reached Gytha. “Are you hurt?” His hands gripped her shoulders.

“No.” Her vision blurred and refocused, and her ears roared in time with her pulse. “Pabbi, don’t hurt the bear. Please.”

At this moment, Solveig and Sigrid opened the door again, Hlif standing unsteadily between them. The bear turned to stand face to face with the older woman. He breathed into her face, and a growling rumble came from him.

Then Hlif stood straighter, and she cried, “A bear! Girls! Ivarr! Come inside before it eats you!”

The bear snuffled roughly and turned away, grumbling. He breathed into Gytha’s face, his breath hot and fierce, and said, “Your mother is healed. But your fever will not go so easily. I will come again tomorrow morning. Rest well.”

Finally able to move more freely, Ivarr caught up the axe again and swung it at the bear’s head. The beast barely avoided the blow and retreated into the night, snuffling and shaking his head .

Moments later, they were all inside with the door securely locked behind them.

Once he had assured himself that none of his daughters was hurt by the bear, Ivarr collapsed into a chair near the fire with his face buried in his hands.

His hands shook; in fact, his whole body shook as the terror receded.

For several minutes, the only sounds were those of the wood in the stove.

Hlif knelt beside Ivarr and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m all right, and so are the children,” she murmured.

He gripped her shoulders with white fingers and pulled back to search her face. “Are you well, love? You’re not hurt? And your fever?”

The woman’s clear blue eyes were warm, and her thin lips curved in a soft smile. “Not the tiniest ache of fever. Feel.” She put her forehead against his. “I feel tired but strong and healthy, Ivarr, like I do at the end of a good harvest.”

She turned to look at the children, and he turned with her, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

Sigrid sat with the little ones on the thick rug, helping Brinja change into her pajamas and glancing up at her parents at intervals.

The twins, Ashild and Dagney, were making acorn flour flatcakes, trying not to look upset, and Randulf and Halvard were alternately practicing their handwriting with wet fingers on the chalkboard and looking at the adults.

Solveig sat beside Gytha on their bed, talking quietly to her older sister.

“Look at them,” Hlif said. “We’re all whole.”

Ivarr stared at them all in turn, drinking in their faces with renewed love and gratitude for their lives. “I don’t understand.” He shuddered. “The bear was growling like it meant to eat them all.”

Dinner was rich and filling but quiet. Hlif seemed entirely well, though the fatigue of weeks of fever made her even quieter than usual. Ivarr looked down at his hands, lean and scarred, and the dried blood under his fingernails. He rubbed it away thoughtfully.

At last Sigrid spoke, looking from one sister to the other. “Solveig said you and her heard the bear speak. But I just heard growling and roaring.”

Gytha took a deep, steadying breath. "Yes. He was kind to us. He said he healed Mamma, but my illness would not go so quickly.”

“I just heard roaring,” Ivarr said. But his eyes found his wife’s gaze across the table, and her thin cheeks, now pink with health. “How do you feel, my love?”

“I have not felt better in years.” Hlif smiled again.

“I heard only animal growls and roars, but if the girls heard him speak, I believe them. I cannot even tell you how wretched I felt, my mind half-gone with fever. The breath of that creature on my face felt like life breathed into me, hot enough to burn away the illness itself. I don’t know what magic it is, but that is not an ordinary bear. ”

Sigrid bit her lip and looked at Gytha. “But you’re not well.”

The eldest of the children looked down at her bowl. “No.” She blinked, trying to ignore the shimmering black spots in her vision. “I feel less feverish, though.” That was true; instead, she felt dizzy and weak and light-headed, as if the floor kept tilting beneath her.

When she went to bed, she fell asleep before she’d even pulled the blanket up against the chill. Solveig crawled into bed over her, pulling the blanket up over them both.

Gytha woke well before dawn, her pulse pounding in her ears.

For several minutes, she lay silent and still, trying to calm her racing heart.

There was no reason to be afraid. But the dark spun around her, and she closed her eyes against the dizziness.

That only made her feel sick, so she slipped her feet into her slippers and pulled on her sweater before stepping closer to the stove.

She drank a cup of water and then stared through the grate at the embers.

Every inch of her ached, and chills crawled up and down her spine, alternating with sweaty heat. She brushed her hair with trembling fingers and braided it over her shoulder. The pale gold strands gleamed in the dim light.

At last, restless with fever and churning thoughts, she walked to the door. She pulled on her boots, her coat, and a hat she thought was probably hers, though it was hard to tell in the shadows, and then opened the door and slipped out into the frigid darkness.