Winterfrost (7 page)

Nisse, by nature, are slow to anger, and Gammel had lived enough years to know that quick tempers lead to no good. He didn’t scold Klakke. He didn’t pace or appear to ponder the situation. But when Gammel finally looked up, his small black eyes had lost some of their sparkle.

“I feared something like this would happen.”

He seemed to be speaking to Hagen, who nodded solemnly. Even Pernilla appeared to understand whatever it was Gammel wasn’t saying aloud. Klakke looked from one nisse to the next, hoping to make sense of their unspoken words.

“Do you believe this is
his
doing?” Pernilla asked, eyes wide.

“I do,” Gammel confirmed.

“ ‘His’ whose?” Klakke asked, his tiny toes tapping nervously on the smooth oak floor.

The older nisse ignored Klakke, talking as though he weren’t there at all.

“But it’s been years,” Hagen protested. “What could he be thinking? Coming back now, after all this time?”

“Who’s back? Who?” Klakke’s body bounced involuntarily as he searched each nisse’s face for clues.

“Perhaps he’s returned to make amends.” Gammel’s voice sounded hopeful.

“Or to stir up more trouble,” Hagen added, and suddenly Klakke knew who they were talking about. His hopefulness fizzled like fireworks on Midsummer’s Eve.

Gammel seemed to already have a plan when he finally addressed Klakke again. “We need the sister. You know what to do, Klakke,” he said firmly.

Klakke nodded, determined not to mess up once more. He fled the house and ran deep into the forest, following the large tracks in the snow that could only have been made by Bettina’s boots as she passed the old oak in search of her sister.

The forest was dim, but the snow cover brightened the ground beneath Bettina’s boots. She had entered the woodland at the edge of the garden in exactly the spot where the winterfrost had been shaken loose from the seedlings. Before setting out, she had taken a long look across the field toward the Pedersens’ house. A wispy string of smoke trailed up from the chimney, and she knew Rasmus and Lisa were home. Should she enlist their help? After a moment’s hesitation, she turned again toward the forest and set out alone. If it was a nisse she was dealing with, she reasoned, the fewer humans involved, the better.

Bettina wasn’t at all sure what she was looking for. The book had said that some nisse live in tiny underground houses beneath tree roots, so she kept her eyes low. She walked for almost an hour, through the most familiar parts of the forest. She walked through the sparse acres where Far and Mr. Pedersen had cut wood. She had been with them often, helping to carry logs to the truck parked by the roadside. But she didn’t spend much time searching there, as few hiding places remained in a wood that had been cleared.

Entering the dense, untouched forest once more, she recognized some landmarks. There was the fantastically enormous spruce that she always believed would make the perfect Christmas tree for a family of giants. And then there was the crooked oak that every fall shed millions of fat acorns that Bettina would gather to entice the squirrels into the backyard in the winter. Far wasn’t a big fan of squirrels in the garden any time of year, but Pia loved watching them from the big window. Only last week, Bettina had lifted her so she could babble and squeal at the squirrels as they tumbled over one another in the garden. Her sounds were so filled with joy and delight that even Far stopped what he was doing to come to the window and watch.

The vivid memory of Pia made Bettina move faster and deeper into the forest. The trees were close together now, pine and beech and oak and fir. With no path to follow, Bettina was well aware that she might be going in circles. But she had yet to come upon her own footprints. If she started to feel lost, she would retrace her tracks in the snow in order to return home.

It was another gray and cloudy day, an exact copy of the one before. The winterfrost clung to everything. The sun stayed away. After walking for what seemed to be half the day, Bettina started to become uneasy. She tipped her head to the treetops, where every now and then a sliver of cold December sky appeared. Was it noon? Later?

Even though Bettina was dressed for the weather, there was a dampness in the air that seeped through layers of fleece and crept with chilling fingers down her neck. How much longer could she continue searching before the cold drove her back home?

As she rounded a Douglas fir, a fat, snow-covered stump appeared, and she decided to sit and rest, using her forearm to clear the snow off the stump. She opened her backpack. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was, and the rye bread and liver pâté tasted better than it ever did packed in a school lunch. She wiped her mouth and stared at the surrounding woodland.

Had she been here before? The stump told her that Far had been here and cut the tree that had once stood tall in this spot. Bettina squinted to see as far as her eyes would allow. The area didn’t seem familiar at all. Everything was still. Nothing moved in the distance, and Bettina stood to zip her backpack, trying to decide whether to go deeper into the forest or to turn back toward home. Perhaps Pia had returned just as mysteriously as she had disappeared. But Bettina knew that was just wishful thinking. Her chances of finding Pia were better out here in the forest than they were at home in the living room.

Bettina’s search continued. She’d trudged only a few feet when, out of the corner of one eye, she caught a glimpse of something moving. She snapped her head in the direction of the something. Whatever it was had stopped. Perhaps it was a rabbit. Or her own imagination.

She threw her pack over her shoulder and moved on. There it was again! This time she saw it for more than a second. It was small and lightning fast. And red. Red? What is red in the forest in wintertime? She darted toward the spot where she’d seen the flash of color and waited. Ahead, but not too far, she saw it again and she followed.

The small red blur continued to disappear only to reappear a short distance ahead, seeming to dare Bettina to keep up. She followed as closely as she could but never managed to get a good look at whatever it was that was leading her. Bettina soon found that keeping an eye on the ground and her surroundings at the same time was nearly impossible.

For half an hour, she hurried after the elusive blur. Every time she thought she’d lost it, a small glimmer of red would reappear. Eventually, Bettina became wary. Was this a trick? Did someone wish for her to become so disoriented in the forest that she would be lost for days?

Bettina stopped running. Nothing was familiar. She stared at the ground around her and saw a mingled mess of footprints, all of them her own. How could she have been so stupid? She had followed the little red blur blindly, and now? Now she imagined her parents coming home to find not one but both of their daughters missing!

Up ahead there was movement again. Bettina trailed it cautiously now, trying to find something familiar in her surroundings. She circled around a pine and found herself standing at the foot of the big crooked oak, the one with a million acorns near where Far and Mr. Pedersen had cut wood. How had she gotten back here when moments ago she was sure she was lost?

Bettina took one step toward the tree when her left boot got caught beneath a huge gnarled root.
Thwack.
She hit the hard white ground, arms out to her sides and facedown in the frosty snow. Still flat out on her stomach, Bettina used a mittened hand to wipe the cold snow from her eyes.

When she opened them, she quickly squeezed them shut again. It was a test; Bettina had to be sure her eyes were not playing tricks on her. She opened them slowly, drew in her breath, and forgot to let it out again.

It was no trick. Before her stood the tiniest man she’d ever seen. He had a round face with a mischievous expression framed in dark brown curls and a full brown beard. He wore a brown coat and boots. Red stockings covered his knees. And on top of his head was a tall red pointed cap that drooped just a bit at the point. The flash of red!

The little man gave Bettina a long, significant look, then darted under another root of the big crooked oak.

Bettina blinked her eyes one more time as she lay flat on her stomach in the snow. It was a nisse! She was absolutely certain. He looked just like the little people in books, only more . . . real. But where had he disappeared to? All that lay before her was a twisted old tree root.

Pushing herself up on her elbows, Bettina used her teeth to remove one snow-soaked mitten. With her bare hand, she reached behind her and found the zipper on her backpack. She dug around until she had her hand on the small flashlight she’d packed. Clicking it on, she searched deep beneath the root. She half expected to find the little nisse man hiding there, cowering in the cold, perhaps as frightened of her as she was surprised by him.

Instead, what she saw made her draw in her breath yet again. The yellow glow of her flashlight illuminated a tiny wooden door, complete with a dull iron knocker, two wrought-iron hinges, and a latch. Should she . . . knock? As she contemplated how she would lift the minuscule knocker with fingers that seemed far too large, the door opened and an old, gray nisse man stepped out. He immediately shielded his eyes from the blinding light with one short arm. He was dressed similarly to the nisse Bettina had followed through the forest, only the point of his cap stood straight and tall.

And then the nisse spoke.

“Welcome, Bettina. We’ve been expecting you.”

Bettina nearly dropped her flashlight. The older nisse man was talking to her! And he knew her name! She struggled to keep the light focused squarely on the tiny man.

“I . . . how do you know me?”

The man took a step to the left, still shielding his eyes with one arm.

“Would you be so kind as to lower your light just a bit?” he asked politely.

“Oh!” Bettina cried, feeling embarrassed. “Of course.”

She aimed the light on the old man’s boots instead, which cast the area behind the open door in shadows. Bettina was intensely curious, and she was sorely tempted to shine the light behind the man to see inside, if only for a moment. But the little man was being so nice, and he might have information that would lead her to Pia. She didn’t want to offend him.

“You’re looking for your baby sister,” the nisse stated.

“Yes.” Bettina breathed deeply.
His mention of Pia must mean he knows where she is!
“Yes, is she . . . is she in there?” It was a ridiculous question. The door itself was smaller than Pia.

The little man’s round red cheeks grew redder. His dark eyes became a bit darker with concern. He shook his head, and his red cap swayed.

“No, my dear. I’m afraid she’s not here. She should be. But she’s not.”

She should be?
“What do you mean?”

The old gentleman opened his mouth to answer, then froze. “Shh. Listen,” he said, his gray head and red cap tilted to one side.

Bettina listened. She heard nothing and was about to say so, but the nisse man was listening so intently, she tried again.

At first she heard only the sounds of the forest in the late afternoon. Sparrows making their final flights before settling in for the night. A squirrel’s toes scratching across a fallen log as he hunted one last hiding place that might contain a nut for a bedtime snack. Just regular evening woodland sounds met Bettina’s ears until . . .

“Bettina! Bettina Larsen!”

It was unmistakably the sound of Rasmus Pedersen’s voice. And it appeared to be coming closer.

“You must not answer, Bettina,” the old nisse told her.

“But it’s Mr. Pedersen,” she protested. “He’s looking for me.”

“If you want to find your baby sister, we must keep all other humans out of this,” he told her with such authority in his voice that Bettina wanted to obey without question. But having had no previous experience with a real-life nisse, she was leery. She raised her flashlight just a bit. The odd little face that glowed in its beam looked honest and sincere.

“BET-TINA!”

This time Mr. Pedersen’s voice was loud and clear and close by. Very close by.

Bettina looked once more at the nisse man. She could answer Mr. Pedersen. She could call out to him right now, and he would hear her. But something in the old gentleman’s eyes convinced her to stay quiet. They were no doubt the kindest eyes she had seen since Farfar’s.