Wilderness

  The dogs started up the hill.

  Aki kept waving. They could hear him.

  “Come, come! No cars!”

  They saw it now; the top of the hill was a road. They went past Aki, and straight across. They looked left and right. The road was straight and empty. It was a scar, right through the white forest. It was daytime now, but the air was silver. The sky was low enough to touch.

  The road was ending.

  “Oh, oh.”

  They laughed. They could feel their guts getting ready. They were going to drop. The dogs ran down the hill on the other side of the road; they didn’t slow down or hesitate. And Tom and Johnny were right behind them. The path was gone. There was a path, but it was narrow now, and never straight. They were right in the forest and going over big snow. They swerved around rocks and trees. They pushed into each other as they turned; they couldn’t help it. They leaned out over the side of the sled. They couldn’t help that either. The dogs still trotted along, like this was normal. They watched the dogs, and they felt normal too.

  This was the best thing that had ever happened to them. They both thought that, at the same time.

  The sled swerved, and they couldn’t see the dogs for a second – they were off the ground, and then they were behind the dogs again. There was a path, but only because the dogs were running on it. Johnny and Tom couldn’t really see it. The trees were green here. They were in dark forest, away from the edge. This was wilderness. They both felt it – they knew. This was where you could get lost – really lost. Something had changed. They didn’t just like the dogs. They needed them.

  They could hear their dogs panting. They could hear the other dogs behind them. They could hear the runners on the snow. They could hear Aki’s snowmobile.

  They went between two big trees, and the land opened in front of them. It was a wide, white space, like a small park or a football pitch, flat and silvery white. They could see the silver sky again. But the wall of the forest was straight ahead. They were going to go back in.

  They heard dog breath and paws, right behind them. Johnny looked back, but he couldn’t see anything. Tom looked, and saw four dogs running towards him, coming up, about to pass them. They were pulling an empty sled. It was bouncing around a bit, jumping, because it was so light.

  But the dogs didn’t pass Kalle’s sled.

  “They won’t pass the leader,” said Johnny. “That’s why they’ve slowed down.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Tom.

  He heard Kalle shout something, over their heads. Something short. One word, one syllable. That was all, and the dogs in front slowed and stopped. Tom felt the weight behind him; Kalle was standing on the brake.

  The other dogs stopped too. Kalle walked through the snow to the other sled. He patted the front dogs. They rubbed against his arm. They moaned and muttered happily.

  “Come on,” said Johnny.

  He pulled back the blanket and climbed out of the sled. Tom thought about this. There was no reason for them not to do it. It wasn’t dangerous, and they weren’t at school. So, he got out from under the blanket too. He could make out lots of sled tracks, and some paw prints. The snow wasn’t thick. But when he stood up and took a few steps away from the sled, the snow went up his boots, right up to the tops. It was great.

  Kalle looked at Tom and Johnny. He said nothing. They stood beside him and watched Aki come towards them on the snowmobile. There was someone else on the snowmobile, behind him.

  It was their mother.

  “She must have fallen off,” said Tom.

  “Cool,” said Johnny.

  The snowmobile slowed as it got nearer the dogs, and stopped. Their mother got off the back. They saw her stretch to get her foot over the seat. She nearly fell. They could see her face. She was red. She looked at Tom and Johnny. She smiled at them and stuck out her tongue. She struggled through the high snow. Then one of her feet landed on the hardened snow, and she saw that it was easier to walk on the path.

  “Hiya, lads,” she said. “I went on my bum.”

  They laughed.

  Kalle spoke.

  “Why – did – you – fall – off – your – sleigh?” he said.

  “Ah Jaysis, Kalle,” said their mother. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  They could hear Aki laughing.

  “What – was – the – cause?” said Kalle.

  “I – don’t – know,” said their mother. “I – just – fell – off.”

  She lifted her hands.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m being rude. Sorry, Kalle. But I just fell off.”

  Kalle nodded.

  “Paska – happens,” he said.

  The other sleds had caught up. Johnny could see the other people trying to stay steady on their brakes. Their dogs tried to pull, nearer to Kalle.

  “And, so,” said Aki.

  They heard him turn on the snowmobile.

  Kalle held their mother’s sled while she stepped on to it and put her feet on the brake. He turned and stared at Tom, and Johnny.

  They ran – they tried to run – back to the sled, through the high snow, then the flattened stuff. Tom slid. He tried it again, but it didn’t work. Johnny got there first.

  “Sorry, no room.”

  He pushed Tom back.

  “Lay off,” said Tom.

  He slid again. But this time he didn’t want to. He tried to get on to the sled, and Johnny pushed again.

  Suddenly, Kalle was there. He leaned down and picked up Johnny. He hoisted him a few centimetres and dropped him to the side. There was room for Tom. He climbed in.

  “Brothers,” said Kalle. “I – understand.”

  “Do you have a brother?” said Tom.

  “I – give – him – to – the – husky – dogs,” said Kalle. “They – eat.”

  “Really?”

  Kalle nodded.

  Tom believed him. He didn’t – he did. There was nothing jokey about Kalle. But maybe Finnish jokes weren’t meant to be funny.

  Kalle stepped on to the sled, behind them. He spoke to the dogs, and the sled began to move.

  The Taxi

  Gráinne looked out the window. Her mother was at the front door, waiting. Her cases and stuff were all around her. She leaned over one case and rang the bell again. She looked back at Gráinne and smiled.

  Gráinne saw the door open. Her granny came out to the porch and hugged her mother. She saw them hold each other for a long while. She saw them speak. Her granny looked at the taxi. She smiled, and waved. Gráinne waved back.

  She watched her granny and her mother bending down and picking up the cases.

  “What’s the story there?” said the taxi driver.

  She’d forgotten he was there.

  “What?” she said.

  She could see his eyes in the rearview mirror. His glasses were on a bit crooked. She looked away.

  She saw her mother coming out of the house. She turned, and said something to Gráinne’s granny. She waved, and started walking to the taxi.

  “Is that your mother?” said the taxi driver.

  Gráinne didn’t answer.

  CHAPTER SIX

  They were going over ice now. They were on a lake, just a few centimetres between them and the freezing water.

  Tom pulled back his head and called up to Kalle.

  “Is it deep?”

  “Not – understand,” said Kalle.

  His voice boomed across the ice. The trees at the lakeside seemed to shake.

  “Is there much water?” said Johnn
y.

  He pointed at the ice.

  Kalle nodded.

  There were branches and sticks poking out of the ice. They marked the safe path across the lake, where the ice was thickest. It was like a race now, like the skiing they’d seen on telly. The dogs went right between the sticks. Sometimes they skidded, but it didn’t slow down or confuse them.

  Aki went past them, on the snowmobile. He hit one of the marker branches but it didn’t snap or fall. It sprang back to the upright position.

  “The ice must be thick,” said Tom.

  He had to say it loud. The sky seemed to swallow up his voice.

  “Yeah,” said Johnny.

  They were safe, but it was still exciting. Ice melted; ice broke. Some messers might have changed the positions of the sticks and sent the sled the wrong and dangerous way.

  They sailed over the ice.

  They went past a house. It was suddenly there, at the edge of the lake, like a story house. It was wood and painted green. It seemed to move beside them, and then they left it behind.

  Johnny looked back, but the house was gone, hidden by the trees. He was cold. His face was very cold. He hadn’t moved in hours. He saw Aki ahead of them. The snowmobile went over a hump and into the trees. Aki was off the lake. Johnny couldn’t see him now. Just before the dogs reached the lakeside, he saw a wide gap in the trees, and he could see the sun. He could see half the sun, like the top half of a big red eye, staring at him.

  “Is that the sun or the moon?” said Tom.

  “Sun,” said Johnny.

  “How do you know?” said Tom.

  “Shut up,” said Johnny.

  The dogs climbed the bank. One of them slipped but was held up by the others and the harness. They dragged the sled up, off the ice. They were in among the trees again, and the wind was off their faces. But they were still cold, that shivery feeling that takes ages to go away. The light had changed. It was darker here. The trees closed in above them, and the light was cut into long lines that got thinner, until the sled went deeper into the trees, and they left the light behind.

  Then they saw the fire.

  The dogs headed for it. They swerved among the trees, but always, when the turn was finished, the fire was in front of them.

  They came out of the trees, to a small clearing with a frozen stream and snow-hidden bushes and silver light that seemed solid enough to climb.

  Aki was sitting at the fire, on a log. He waved as Kalle called over the boys’ heads, and the dogs stopped. The sled stopped completely. Two of the dogs lay down. The boys started to climb off the sled.

  “Wait,” said Aki.

  Kalle walked past them and tied a strap to one of the small trees that grew beside the stream.

  “OK,” said Aki.

  They got off the sled and stood up. They were stiff.

  “Oh, me poor bones,” said Johnny.

  Tom began to jump up and down.

  “Good idea,” said Aki.

  But they stopped, because Aki was cutting wood and that was much more interesting. He was slicing the top of a branch, again and again, making it look like a pineapple or a mad haircut.

  “Burns better, I guess,” he said. “See?”

  He held the branch close to the fire, and the cut pieces of the branch lit quickly. The boys watched the flame spread up through the branch.

  “Cool,” said Tom.

  He wanted to take his knife out; it was hidden in one of his pockets. But he knew his mother would have gone mad if she’d seen it.

  The air was full of panting dogs and excited people. Aki and Kalle helped everyone to tie their sleds. The dogs all sat or lay in the snow. They curled up and let themselves sink in. They hid their noses under their tails.

  Tom and Johnny took off their gloves and put their hands out, over the flames. They sat down on a log. There were four logs, in a square; seats around the fire.

  “Luxury,” said Tom.

  “Move over, lads,” said their mother.

  She got in between them. She pretended she was pushing them away.

  “What did you think?” she said.

  “Brilliant,” said Tom.

  “Why can’t we have our own sleds?” said Johnny.

  “They told you—” she started.

  “It’s boring,” said Johnny.

  “Boring?” she said. “Boring?”

  She picked up a stick and shook it.

  “Come here till I give you boring.”

  Johnny ran, and she ran after him. He dived on to the snow. She sat on top of him.

  “Is it boring?” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  She picked up a handful of snow. She put it to his nose.

  “Is it boring?” she said.

  Tom could hear Johnny laughing.

  “Yeah,” said Johnny. “It’s very boring.”

  His mother’s back was blocking Tom’s view, but he thought she was shoving some of the snow down Johnny’s back.

  “Is it boring?” he heard her.

  “Stop!”

  “Is it boring?”

  “No!”

  He shouted so loud a small bird shot out of a bush beside him.

  Tom laughed.

  “Siberian jay,” said Aki. “This bird is the soul of a dead hunter.”

  “Really?” said Tom.

  “For sure.”

  Tom heard his mother.

  “Is it exciting?”

  “Yes!” Johnny yelled.

  “How exciting?”

  “Stop!”

  “How exciting?”

  “The best ever!”

  “Great,” said his mother.

  She stood up. She hugged Johnny when he was standing up. Tom wanted to go over there now, to throw snow, and be chased and hugged.

  The man from Belgium was sitting now, near Tom.

  “Your mother,” he said.

  He pointed, and smiled.

  “Is a very attractive woman,” he said.

  Tom knew his face was turning red. He wanted to jump up and hit the man from Belgium. But his wife or girlfriend was sitting beside him, and she nodded too. She leaned out, so she could look properly at Tom.

  “She is very nice,” she said. “The way she plays with your brother.”

  The man nodded. And that was fine. He just thought Tom’s mother was nice. And that was OK. Because she was.

  “Tom?” he heard Aki.

  Tom looked. Aki was at the fire, kneeling beside it.

  “Will you help?” said Aki.

  “OK,” said Tom.

  Would he help? He went so quickly, he nearly tripped and dived into the fire. He landed right beside Aki. Aki was cutting a thin branch at the top, to make it split in two. He had tied three other thin branches together, using a strip of bark. They stood like a teepee, or the legs of a stool.

  “See how I cut?” he said.

  “Yeah,” said Tom.

  Aki handed the knife to Tom. It was like one of the knives in the showcase, and way bigger than the knife Tom had hidden in his pocket. Aki was holding it out for Tom. He wasn’t telling him to be careful or anything. Tom took the knife; he held the handle. It wasn’t as cold as he’d expected, probably because Aki had been holding it. It was quite heavy. He looked around. He hoped Johnny was watching, and his mother too.

  They were. They were looking at him. They were coming towards the fire. He pretended he hadn’t been looking at them. He turned, back to Aki.

  Aki was holding the stick he’d been splitting.

  “Se
e why I do this?” said Aki.

  “Yeah,” said Tom.

  “Why?” said Aki.

  “Eh, not sure.”

  “Cut it a bit more,” said Aki. “Then I show you.”

  “OK.”

  “What are you doing?”

  It was Johnny.

  “Helping Aki,” said Tom.

  “How?” said Johnny.

  “We are making the coffee,” said Aki.

  Tom was careful with the knife. This was his chance; he wasn’t being treated like a baby. He cut a bigger notch at the tip of the branch. He made sure the sharp side wasn’t facing his fingers and body. He knew how to do it. He knew he was being watched.

  “Let’s see,” said Johnny.

  Tom knew what that meant. Johnny didn’t want to see the knife. He wanted Tom to give it to him. Tom ignored him.

  “Give us a go,” said Johnny.

  Tom could feel Johnny leaning into him. But he knew that Johnny wouldn’t grab the knife, not in front of Aki and their mother.

  “Next time, you,” said Aki, to Johnny.

  That was fine with Tom. He was the first one to use a real hunter’s knife.

  “That is good,” said Aki. “And, OK.”

  Tom stopped cutting. He didn’t have to be told again. He handed the stick to Aki. He held the knife. He did nothing with it. He just held it, like it was a pen or a ruler or something normal from his life. He watched Aki put the branch across the other tree branches, the ones he’d already tied. He made it lean across the top of the branches. It was now hanging over the centre of the fire.

  “See?” said Aki.

  “Yeah,” said Johnny.

  “And, now,” said Aki.

  He lifted the branch off the other branches.

  “You will see why you cut the wood.”

  He picked up the coffeepot. It was like one of those old-fashioned pots from a Western film. It was made of tin and had a handle at the top. Aki pushed the handle between the two split parts of the branch top. Then he held the branch and put it hanging over the fire again, with the coffeepot right in the middle. He sat back on one of the log seats and put the end of the branch under his foot. The pot was on top of the fire, but the branch was too high above to catch fire.