The Snow Child (37 page)

You have a river otter, Faina said, pointing to the opposite bank.

Jack saw the tracks where they veered around a fallen tree.

Otter, you say? I never noticed it.

She crouched beside a pool of open water, took a knife from a sheath at her leg, and opened the fish belly with a slice.

Here, let me do that, Jack said.

She stayed by the creek, pulled the entrails from the fish and tossed them into the flowing water. Then she put a hand inside the body cavity and scraped the kidney from the spine.

Why does Garrett come to the mountains? she asked as she shook the clotted blood from her fingertips.

You’ve seen him?

Yes. Many times. Why does he come?

Must be putting out traps.

Oh, she said.

You don’t have to be frightened of him. He doesn’t mean you any harm.

All right, she said.

She set the fish in the snow and washed the blood from her hands.

CHAPTER 42

G
arrett’s nights were haunted by the girl. The day she led him out of the snowstorm, he returned home exhausted but found he could not sleep, and he did not sleep well for weeks. He lay in his bed and thought of her blue eyes and the delicate features of her face, but they were always veiled by falling snow or covered in the fall of her blond hair, and he could not re-create them clearly in his mind. He tried to remember the shape of her lips. He wondered what it would be like to touch them. And more than anything, he wanted to remember her scent, vague and so familiar.

He returned again and again to the foothills to find her trails skimming across the snow. He told everyone, perhaps even himself, that he was trapping, and yet for days he did not put out a single set and sometimes even forgot to bring his bait and snares. He no longer thought of wolverine, but only of her, and his eyes grew weary from watching for any flash of a blue coat or white-blond hair. He suspected that she kept herself hidden, but still he went back.

Just as the girl predicted, the snow in the mountains was soon too deep for his horse, so he snowshoed. Sometimes he siwashed, sleeping beneath a canvas tarp and cooking on an open campfire. Those nights were the worst, because sleep never came. He stared into the cold blackness and listened for a whisper of movement. He was sure the girl was just outside, watching him from the trees, and sometimes he found her footprints the next morning. But still she did not reveal herself to him. Not until the day he stood desperate and exhilarated beside her fresh trail and called out her name.

Faina! Faina! I just want to talk with you. Won’t you let me?

The trees were silent. The sky was overcast and dense with snow yet to come.

Faina! I know you’re there. Won’t you come out?

I’m here, she said, and she stepped from behind a snow-heavy spruce branch. What do you want with me?

I don’t know, and Garrett was surprised at his own honesty. He was reckless and emboldened. I don’t know, he repeated.

She narrowed her sharp blue eyes but did not retreat.

Have you seen any more wolverine? he asked, only because he could think of nothing better to say. The girl shook her head.

And you? Have you found your wolverine?

No. Never, actually. I’ve never caught a wolverine.

Oh.

I’ve always wanted to.

Is that why you’re here?

No, it isn’t.

Why then?

You. I think.

The girl shifted, wary now, but she stood her ground.

I’m sorry about your fox. I shouldn’t have shot it…. Wait. Don’t leave. Won’t you talk with me? I’ve never met anyone like you before.

She shrugged. A peculiar expression passed over her face, and he thought she smiled.

Do you want to see something? she asked.

All right.

She darted around the spruce tree and was gone. Afraid to lose sight of her, he ran as well as he could in the snowshoes. He followed her through the trees, up through aspens and alpine blueberry bushes. They made their way above the tree line, where the snowy slopes rose over their heads into rocky mountaintops. Although he was damp with sweat and his lungs ached, the girl seemed tireless. She waited on a wind-blown rock until he managed, huffing, to climb to her.

Faina had taken off her mittens, and she put a finger to her lips, shushing him. Then she pointed across the slope to one side. Garrett saw nothing but white. It was humiliating. He always had keen eyes for game, but this time he had to shake his head no, he did not see.

She smiled, not unkindly, and knelt beside the rock. From her coat pocket she removed a handful of rounded and smooth stones, all of similar size, as if carefully chosen. She picked one, stood, and threw it. Garrett heard a stifled squawk and saw a white flapping. The girl chose another rock, threw again, and another bird was hit. Without looking back at him, she sprinted across the slope toward her prey. A flock of pure-white ptarmigan burst to life from around her feet in a noisy flutter. Hundreds—more ptarmigan than Garrett had ever seen at once—filled the sky and dispersed in all directions, some landing just a few hundred yards away and disappearing white into the white, others clumsily flying over the next ridge.

The girl ran to him, smiling and holding two dead ptarmigan by their feathered toes. Annoyed, he sat with arms crossed. He had tried such a trick before. After hurling dozens of rocks, he had poorly wounded one and had to shoot it with his shotgun after all.

So, is that what you wanted to show me? he asked.

No. You are rested now?

Instead of leading him higher up the mountain, as he expected, she began to traverse the slope. Where her feet touched, tiny snowballs formed and rolled down the hill, leaving dotted trails. Covering the steep ground in snowshoes was difficult, but Garrett knew if he removed them he would sink well past his waist in the snow, so he slogged on. Soon they descended into a steep-sided ravine thick with alder bushes.

At the base of a small knoll, the girl went to one knee and again gestured for him to be quiet. Deep snow covered the hill, except for a spot no bigger than a man’s head. Come closer, the girl said with her hands.

It was a gloomy hole in the earth, part of a much larger entrance mostly buried in snow. Recognition sunk in as a cold shiver up his neck and along his scalp. She had led him to a bear den.

Garrett squatted in his snowshoes beside her and leaned into the hole. He thought he could make out roots and black dirt, but it was so dark he couldn’t be sure. He expected it to be cavernous and foul, but all he could smell was snow and earth and maybe damp leaves and fur. He could hear nothing but his own breathing.

He pointed and raised his eyebrows at the girl as if to ask, Is it in there? She nodded, her eyes lively and her mittened hand on his shoulder in warning. Even through his heavy winter coat, he could feel the pressure of her hand on his skin, and it left him light-headed. They slowly backed away from the den and walked in silence until they were down in the creek bed.

Is it in there? he whispered. Now?

Yes. I watched it dig the den from up there, and the girl pointed to the slope on the opposite side of the creek.

Brown bear? Garrett asked. She nodded.

A boar?

No. A mama, with two cubs.

No animal in the wilderness more dangerous, Garrett thought. He had watched brown bears on mountainsides, seen their muscles ripple across their humped backs, their fur undulate in waves. Each time he caught even a passing glimpse of one, he was awestruck. But never had he been this close. Snow alone had separated him from a sow grizzly, heavy with sleep and power, her cubs nursing at her side, her long claws trailing from her padded feet.

CHAPTER 43

T
he boy was at Mabel’s door, covered with snow and leading a half-grown puppy on a rope leash, and he came asking after Faina.

“Pardon?”

“Faina? Is she here?”

“Why, no, Garrett. She isn’t. But come on inside.”

He paused in the doorway and looked down at the black-and-white, floppy-eared pup.

“I suppose you can bring your new friend in as well,” Mabel said, gesturing them through the door and closing it before too much snow blew in.

The puppy wagged its tail furiously, and when Mabel bent beside it, tried to jump into her lap. She laughed and let it lick her face before she stood again and wiped her hands on her apron.

“So you got yourself a new puppy?”

“Naw. You know Mom and Dad won’t let me have any sled dogs,” he said. He remained near the door, shifting awkwardly in his boots. “No, actually, well, I brought it for her.”

“Not for Faina?”

“You don’t think she’ll like it?”

“Oh. Well, yes. I suppose most any child would adore a puppy, but I’m not sure…”

“She’s not a child.”

His tone was unexpected—irritable, even a little defensive.

“No, I guess she isn’t a child anymore, is she?”

Mabel had noticed a change in Faina. Her cheeks had thinned so that the bone structure was more striking, and her limbs had gracefully lengthened. She seemed taller, more confident. Close to sixteen or seventeen years old, Mabel guessed.

“Are you expecting her tonight maybe?”

“I don’t know. We can never be sure when she will come.”

The puppy was cavorting around the small cabin and had already managed to leave a puddle of urine in one corner, drag a dish towel to the floor, and begin chewing Jack’s slippers beside the woodstove. Mabel grabbed the dish towel and began cleaning up the mess.

“I’m sorry, Garrett. I don’t know when we’ll see her next, and to be honest, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. She might not be able to care for a puppy on her own.”

“She could.”

“Well, let’s see what Jack thinks. He’ll be home in a few hours. I’d offer to keep the puppy here until her next visit, but it would be rather inconvenient.”

“Could I stay here, with the puppy? In the barn maybe, until she comes again?”

“Oh. Well, I suppose. If that’s what you’d like to do. It will be cold, though.”

“I’ll be all right. And she’ll probably come soon enough, don’t you think?”

Garrett took the puppy outside to romp in the snow, and Mabel was left to muddle through her thoughts. What an odd turn of events, the boy bringing Faina a puppy. Mabel doubted the girl would even come into the house if she knew Garrett was there. Faina never visited when strangers were around. How long would Garrett stay, waiting to see her?

“Garrett’s here?” Jack said when he returned just before nightfall. “Saw his horse is in the barn.”

“Yes. He’s come with a gift for Faina.”

“Faina? What kind of gift?”

“A puppy.”

“A puppy?”

“Yes. Garrett said it’s a husky, one that could be trained as a sled dog.”

“A dog? For Faina, you say?”

He seemed puzzled at first. Then he grinned broadly.

“A puppy!”

“You think this is a good idea?”

“Of course. She needs a friend.”

“But can she care for it?”

“Oh, she’ll manage fine. It’ll be good for her.”

“Are you sure?”

Jack must have noticed her anxious tone because he looked at her more closely.

“She’s lonesome, Mabel. You must see that. Pulled between here and there—uneasy in our home, all alone in the woods. I’ll bet she’s never even been around a happy-go-lucky pup.”

Mabel was tempted to explain her other reservations about Garrett and his peculiar behavior, but she couldn’t find the words to express them and knew she would sound fretful and silly.