The Reindeer Girl Read online

  “Big enough to look after yourself,” Lotta told him, her voice a little sad.

  “Come and sit by me.” Erika patted the space next to her by the fire.

  Lotta squashed herself in. She had been helping her mamma to serve the fish the others had caught that afternoon, and her mouth was watering.

  “You did well to get so many,” Lotta told her cousin.

  “Mm-hm. Matti made three holes in the end. Even Nils caught two char. But you were right to go and check on Karl and Flower,” she added. “That eagle could have tried to come down in the clearing. I didn’t think they’d move.”

  Lotta nodded, her mouth too full to talk. She was starving. She’d spent a couple of hours hunting for firewood among the trees, staying close to Flower and Karl all the time, and then she’d helped to prepare the meal.

  When she’d finished the fish, she took a piece of the flatbread that they had baked over the hot stones round the fire and wiped the buttery juices off her tin plate. Then she sighed happily, looking round at her mamma and her aunts, and her cousins squabbling over the last bits of bread. She was warm and full. And she was with her family – maybe not the family she was used to, but she did belong. She knew she did.

  Lotta leaned against Erika’s shoulder and smiled as one of her older cousins began to sing a joik, staring into the fire and slapping his hand against his leg for a beat. He was joiking the reindeer, singing about how they were his life and gave him everything that he needed. As the song rose and fell, Lotta nodded along, smiling, and thinking of Karl and Flower, and how she would do anything to protect them.

  “Today? Really?” Lotta stared at her mamma in surprise. She hadn’t expected them to follow the mother reindeer to the calving grounds for a few more days, but her mother had woken her early, saying that they needed to take down the two lavvus and pack up. Her aunt was bustling around already, gathering up the cooking pots as she told Erika and Matti and Nils to hurry.

  “Yes. The rivers are starting to melt. If we don’t go soon, we’ll have to go a much longer way round. The reindeer can swim the rivers, but it’s harder for us to cross them. Better to go now, while they’re still frozen and we can follow the route we always take. Johan thinks that the stream that feeds the lake is melting. And you’ve seen the snow falling off the trees.”

  Lotta nodded. Quite a lot of it had fallen on her, while she was gathering wood the day before. “Do you think Karl will be all right?” she asked. “He’s still very little.”

  Her mamma smiled. “I’m sure he will. I know you think he’s tiny, but he’s much bigger than he was – you girls have looked after him so well.” She gave Lotta a piece of dried reindeer meat to eat, and hurried out to help the older boys gathering in the herd.

  Lotta looked around the lavvu. It felt like home now – it was hard to imagine that in a little while it would be gone, and all that would be left behind were the marks of the reindeer and a patch of bare ground where the tents had been set up.

  She pulled on her boots and coat, and went out to see Flower and Karl. This morning they were close to the lavvus, looking around wonderingly as Lotta’s mamma and the older boys drove the male reindeer down through the trees, corralling them ready to set off.

  “It’s all right,” Lotta told Karl, who was shifting about skittishly. “You’ll like it where we’re going. Erika told me it’s not that hard a journey. Through the forest, and along the path of the frozen river for a way. It’ll take about four days for us to reach the calving grounds. Then you’ll get to meet the other reindeer calves. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

  She led the two reindeer closer into the rest of the herd, petting and soothing Flower, in case she was startled and decided to run off.

  All around her everyone was packing up, tying their tools and pots in bundles on the big wooden sledges. Johan and Matti, her two oldest and tallest cousins, were taking down the lavvus, folding up the cloth coverings and gathering the long poles. They had more sets of poles waiting at the calving grounds and the summer pastures.

  Erika came over, carrying Lotta’s long wooden skis with her own, and the girls began to strap them on, ready to set off on the hard day’s trek through the forest. They joined up with the column of sledges and waved to Nils, tucked up on a sledge and looking sulky. He was too young to ski for long, Aunt Astri thought, and they needed to move fast today.

  Johan set off at the front of the herd, leading his draught reindeer harnessed up to a sledge. Four more reindeer and sledges were harnessed up behind him, each tied to the one in front. And then behind came the milling, stomping mass of the remaining herd.

  “I can hardly hear myself think,” Erika muttered. Several of the reindeer had bells, and the animals were clanging and grunting and stamping about, while the cousins tried to shoo them in the right direction after the sledges. The dogs darted back and forth, helping to keep the reindeer together. It was very noisy and confusing, and Karl was pressed up against Lotta’s legs, watching with wide, dark eyes.

  At last, the column set out through the trees, and Karl and Flower and the girls joined on at the end, striding along on their skis. Karl trotted along quite happily, following his mother.

  They trekked on through the woods, noticing the snowmelt dripping from the branches. The thaw was definitely starting to set in. By midday, Lotta’s eyes were aching from the glare of the bright sun shining through the trees and sparkling on the snow. Her legs were aching, too, and her skis felt heavy. She wasn’t as used to walking on them as the others, of course.

  The column of reindeer had been slowly stretching out, as the animals found their own pace, and the leaders seemed a long way away.

  “I hope we stop for a rest soon,” Erika said, panting a little.

  Lotta nodded. “Mmm. My legs hurt. And Karl looks really tired.”

  The tiny reindeer looked up as he heard his name and let out a mournful honking noise.

  “I think he needs to rest, too.” Lotta peered up towards the front of the column, trying to see her mamma, or Johan or Matti. “Oh, look, they’re stopping!”

  “At last…” Erika sighed.

  “I think I’ll take Karl up to the front and see if there’s space for him on one of the sledges,” Lotta suggested. “He can’t walk much further.”

  Flower was nosing at Karl, who had sunk down into the snow. Lotta scooped him up in her arms. He was heavy – a full armful now, nearly as big as one of the dogs. She struggled on through the snow, carrying him, with Flower and Erika following wearily behind.

  “Are you all right, Lotta?” her mamma called, as she saw her coming. “We’re just stopping for a rest and some food.”

  “Can we put Karl on a sledge?” Lotta asked hopefully. “He’s worn out.”

  Her mamma leaned down to look at the calf, who wriggled anxiously when he saw a stranger coming near. But he didn’t have the strength to struggle out of Lotta’s arms, even though she could tell he wanted to.

  “Yes, we better had, poor little scrap.”

  Mamma handed out some dried fish, which Lotta ate eagerly. Then Matti came over. He was holding a piece of canvas. “Wrap Karl in this, and then I can tie him on,” he suggested, holding the canvas out so that Lotta could swathe Karl’s legs in it. Together, they tied him firmly on to the sledge, so that he wouldn’t try to leap off when it started moving.

  “Why don’t you two girls take it in turns to ride with him?” her mamma suggested. “He’ll be happier if you’re there holding him.”

  Lotta nodded. “You can go first,” she told Erika. She was feeling a lot better now that they’d stopped for a while, and she knew she would be tired later. Erika gratefully took off her skis, and snuggled up on the sledge with Karl. He still looked wary, but he stopped wriggling when he saw that Erika was with him. Lotta strode alongside them on her skis once the herd set off again, and Flower followed behind the sledge, occasionally nosing at the funny little package that was Karl.

  In the middle of
the afternoon they stopped to rest again, and this time Lotta took the place on the sledge. Erika wrapped a warm reindeer fur around her, and Lotta huddled up – she was so sleepy, now that she wasn’t walking.

  By the time she woke it was dark, and she could see a warmly lit lavvu not far away. Her mamma was standing beside her, laughing. “I thought we should probably wake you, Lotta, or you’d sleep the night through on that sledge, you and the little reindeer. Come on.” She unwrapped Lotta and helped her to stand up. Lotta yawned and groaned as she stretched her cramped legs, and then crouched down to untie Karl.

  “I wonder where your mother is,” she said, looking around for Flower. “Mamma, have you seen her?”

  Mamma frowned. “No… Not since we stopped here. Erika! Johan! Have you seen the mother reindeer?”

  Erika appeared at the door to the lavvu, looking worried. “Isn’t she here? She was following the sledge!”

  “But she always stays close to Karl,” Lotta murmured. “Where can she have gone?”

  Erika looked upset. “I’m sorry – I was so tired, I was concentrating on walking. I just thought she was there…”

  “And I was asleep,” Lotta said guiltily. “I don’t know when I last saw her – soon after we set off again this afternoon, I suppose.”

  “The mother? I thought she was at the back of the column,” Johan said. “I saw her there earlier on this afternoon.”

  “She must have got tired and fallen behind!” Lotta cried. “We have to go and find her.”

  “In the dark?” Johan frowned. “We can’t, Lotta. It isn’t safe. We have to stay with the herd.”

  “I know,” Lotta said. “But Flower should be with the herd, too, and we left her behind. It’s my fault for falling asleep. I was supposed to watch out for her. Please, can’t we go back and look?”

  Erika nodded. “She might only be a little way back along the trail.”

  “I’m sorry, girls.” Lotta’s mamma exchanged glances with Johan and shook her head.

  “Tomorrow morning then?” Lotta pleaded.

  “I don’t think we can wait,” her mamma said gently. “She could have wandered a long way off our trail, and we need to keep going, as fast as we can.”

  “So we just have to leave her?” Erika whispered.

  Lotta swallowed back tears. She hated to think of Flower, lost and all alone without her herd. But then as Karl wriggled in her arms and let out the honking noise that meant he was hungry, Lotta realized something even worse.

  Without his mother to feed him, Karl was going to starve.

  Lotta lay warmly wrapped up in the lavvu, watching the dying embers of the fire. She knew she ought to go back to sleep – it would be another long day tomorrow. But she just couldn’t. She had slept a little earlier in the night, worn out from crying, but then she’d woken again.

  Flower was out there somewhere. And Karl was tied up to one of the trees, just outside the lavvu, hungry and miserable. She and Erika had tried to get him to take some grain, but he’d hardly had any of it. He wanted to feed from his mother, like he always did. And he didn’t understand where she had gone.

  If they had been with the rest of the female reindeer, Lotta and Erika could have tried to milk one of them and fed the milk to Karl. But here they had no milk to give him at all. And it would take them at least three more days to reach the calving grounds. Karl wouldn’t last that long without food.

  Lotta sniffed and turned over, listening to the snuffles and soft sighs as the rest of her family slept. Then she heard a plaintive honking noise, and her breath caught in a sob. That was Karl, outside, calling hungrily for his mother.

  It was no good. She couldn’t leave him out there like this. Even if he did make it to the calving grounds, it would be hard to find a mother reindeer who would feed him as well as her own calf, and they would all be skittish and hard to milk now they had their new babies.

  Lotta couldn’t let him fade away. Her pappa had told her to look after Flower and Karl. She couldn’t let them all down. She got up carefully, climbing over Erika and Nils and her aunt, and making for the door. The dogs were sleeping, too, and although Cam opened one eye to look at her, Lotta put her finger to her lips, and he didn’t bark.

  Lotta shrugged on her big coat and her boots, binding them up with practised speed. She smiled wryly to herself, thinking how different this was from eight days ago, when she hadn’t even known how to put them on. Then she unlaced the door of the lavvu, stepping out into the night cold.

  Karl was a pale little shape in the darkness, and he whimpered and groaned as he heard her coming.

  “I know,” Lotta whispered. “It’s all right. We’re going to look for her. I know they said we mustn’t, but you’ll die if we don’t find her.” She wrapped her arms around the little calf’s neck. “I think this might be why I’m here. I’ve got to find your mother and rescue you both.”

  She started to untie the woven reindeer-leather rope that was fastening him to the tree, and then thought for a minute. She needed some supplies. They might be away for a good few hours, and she would need food. It seemed unfair, when Karl would be starving, but she would be no good to him if she couldn’t keep going, and in this cold, food was necessary. And perhaps she had better bring a knife, just in case. Johan had told her that he had seen bears in these woods, and she remembered Oldeforeldre talking about wolves.

  She crept back into the lavvu, looking for a knife to borrow. She was searching around by the cooking pots at the edge of the fire, when a hand closed round her foot. Lotta strangled a scream, stuffing her hand into her mouth.

  “What are you doing?” Erika whispered. “Why are you up?”

  “I’m going to find Flower,” Lotta whispered back. “I can’t let Karl starve.”

  “You can’t!” Erika hissed. “Not on your own!”

  Lotta shook her head stubbornly. “I’m going to. I’m not going to abandon them.”

  Erika sat up. “I’m coming with you then. I want to find her, too.”

  Lotta nodded. “All right. Get some food, can you? I’m just finding a knife.”

  “Bring one for me. And I’d better give the dogs something,” Erika added. “Otherwise they might follow us.” She laid a little dried meat in front of the four dogs and whispered, “Shhh…”

  The two girls crept out, put on their skis and untied Karl.

  “We might have to carry him some of the way,” Lotta said, as they set off through the trees. “But I want to get him and Flower back together as soon as we can. We can’t leave him at the camp.”

  It was lucky that both girls had slept in the daytime. Lotta felt wide awake now that they had decided on a plan. The moon was full and bright, and she could quite easily see the tracks of the hundreds of reindeer in the snow, with the marks of the sledge runners and skis here and there.

  “We can’t miss our way,” she said to Erika, smiling with relief. “It’s so clear.” Erika nodded. “I know – and the sun is rising earlier and earlier now it’s springtime. It shouldn’t be more than two or three hours that we’re walking in the dark. We might even end up going faster than all of us together were earlier on, you know. The snow’s harder in the cold of the night, and we haven’t got to keep stopping to chase back any stragglers.”

  The girls strode out strongly, and even Karl seemed glad to be walking, as though he knew they were going back to find his mother. Lotta had brought a little grain for him, but she was hoping that they’d find Flower soon so that they wouldn’t need it.

  It was just as the sun was rising, and the light was creeping through the trees, that they came to the frozen river. Erika was sure they had crossed it late in the afternoon of the previous day, when Lotta had been asleep.

  “It is melting,” Erika said, a little anxiously. “I can hear it, the water flowing just under the ice crust.”

  “Is it safe to cross?” Lotta asked, testing it with her ski.

  “I think it is for now. But maybe not for much longe
r.” Erika set out quickly over the ice, and Lotta followed, trying not to hear the creaks and cracking noises as she and Karl crossed the river.

  As Lotta looked back, she could see the bright sun shining on the river ice. Erika was right. They didn’t have long before it melted.

  They hurried on, trying to go faster now, taking it in turns to carry Karl, who was getting wobbly on his legs. Every few minutes they stopped for a rest, and to call out for Flower. Karl joined in, honking his sad, hungry cries.

  They had been going for about another hour when Lotta stopped to call out again. “Flower! Where are you? Flower!” She’d grown so used to shouting that she almost went on without really listening for an answer. But suddenly she felt Karl wriggle in her arms.

  “What is it? Do you want to get down?”

  Karl wriggled again, snorting and honking, and Lotta gasped. He had heard something, she was sure of it.

  “Is he all right?” Erika asked, but Lotta shushed her.

  “Listen!”

  And there it was – only a little way off the beaten trail of hoofprints, in amongst the trees. A loud, sharp whinnying sound.

  They had found her.

  “Flower!” Lotta cried, putting Karl down and pulling off her skis so she could hurry through the trees without tangling them up. “You’re here!”

  “She’s not hurt is she?” Erika gasped, following her into the trees.

  “I don’t think so.” Lotta stroked Flower’s nose, smiling as the reindeer snuffled at her fingers. “Oh, but she’s stuck. Poor Flower, how did you manage that? Were you hungry? Did you go looking for that nice lichen on the trees?”

  Flower had worked her way into a clump of trees and somehow managed to get her thick winter coat wrapped up in the spiny branches of a young sapling. She was completely tangled.