JOURNEY TO THE MIDNIGHT SUN
James Sheldon
LOVE CONQUERS ALL
Book 1 of 3
Chapter 17
Stepping through the snow behind Laureal, John slipped his hands under her arms and around her front to cover her tummy, “How we doing in there?”
“We’re good!” pulling her hood back, craning to beam up at him.
Jessie stood at the lead with spear in hand, “Are you ready, Mom?”
“Why are you always asking me if I’m ready,” half annoyed, standing on the sled platform. “Next time, ask someone else.”
“We’re ready!” Laureal announced.
So began the family’s third day of travel. Like the day before, dawn broke calm on the big river with wind expected by midday. Unlike the day before, a freezing fog had set in overnight. Temperatures were slightly warmer, hovering around eighteen degrees Fahrenheit.
Step by step, the family advanced north through the frozen pall. They went with scarcely a word between, and with every mile, the forest slowly changed, becoming less deciduous and more coniferous, although birch, poplar, and aspen remained prevalent along the river. Presently along the near shore, a grove of poplars stood frosted in white and would have been a lovely sight on another day in Laureal’s eyes, but not on this day. Not in a murky soup that fractured what little light got through the clouds, blurring her surroundings into shapeless forms until even the evergreens seemed to lose their color.
“Grandma,” said Laureal, breaking the silence.
“Yes, dear.”
“I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Turning to look behind, Emma pushed her hood to one side, that she may smile on the girl, “Yesterday’s behind us dear, and so are our mistakes.”
Laureal followed along and, after a few more steps, “It would be nice to see the sun.”
“It certainly would,” stepping off the sled, that she may walk for a spell.
The tracks left by the beast and sled made a path wide enough for two, and so it was that grandmother and granddaughter walked side by side, sharing an occasional glance, both comfortable in the silence. The younger, being disciplined by the unspoken will of the older, refrained from needless words in the knowledge that all things had their place and, in the formula of human wellbeing, most days would leave enough energy for words to play their part around the campfire.
“Momma,” came Sophie’s little voice. Then louder and more urgent than before, “Momma!”
Mia stepped aside and waited for Cody to pass. Then, walking alongside the giant, “What is it?”
“I need to potty.”
“As soon as we get in the woods, we’ll stop and have something to eat. Can you wait till then?”
“I need to go now,” pleadingly.
“Grandma,” Laureal said lowly, “I need to go too.”
Emma stepped out to look around the giant, “Cody, we need to stop.” Then looking past her grandson, she called to her daughter, “Jessie.”
Noah protested as Mia and Laureal took him down from the packsaddle, “I don’t need to go.”
“You’re going to go anyway,” Mia stated matter-of-factly.
Cody held the giant while Laureal and Mia brought the twins down. A few feet away, his grandmother stood looking to the south, and as she turned back to the way ahead, he could not help but notice her troubled expression, “Grandma, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” looking into the gloom, “I can’t see a thing in this mess.”
Just then, John came forward, “What’s up?”
“I’m not sure, except that we’re taking a pit stop,” replied Emma. “Girls to the right side of the giant, boys to the left. And boys, please keep your backs turned until I give the all-clear.”
As they set out to do what countless families had once ritualized in the 20th century interstate rest stops across the continent, John paused and turned to the ladies, “Hey Noah, where are you going?”
“With my mommy,” Noah replied.
John, who had started his own training at Noah’s age, motioned to the boy with his hand, “You’re with Cody and I.”
Noah looked to his mother.
“It’s okay,” Mia reassured. And nodding towards the men, “You go with them.”
A short time later, while Laureal and Mia loaded the twins into the packsaddle, Emma turned to her daughter, “Jessie, find us a place to exit the river.”
“Mom…we have a few hours yet before the wind comes up.”
“Perhaps, but, I just have a feeling,” glancing into the murk before returning her eyes to her daughter, “we need to get off this river.”
If only a little puzzled, Jessie returned to the point position intent on finding an exit along the east shore. Unfortunately, no exit existed due to the continuity of the cutbank, a vertical wall of tangled earth and roots topped with curling snow cornices.
A half mile further, the dirt cutbank gave way to a lime-stone shelf. Itself part of an ancient seabed, the stone shelf afforded no exit either. At last, the shoreline transitioned to a pitch of approximately thirty degrees and while it appeared quite challenging due to a wall of foliage weighted with snow, Jessie soon spotted what she sought: a narrow opening marked by various animal tracks.
“Can the giant get through that?” asked Mia, coming up behind.
“Let’s hope so,” Jessie replied. Then, using her spear to knock snow from limbs, she entered the tunnel-like opening and, having disappeared into the forest, quickly found what she sought—
“Laureal, Mia,” Jessie called from the river trail above, “bring your hatchets.”
Taking advantage of the stop, John chopped a hole in the ice only to watch as Ellie refused to drink. He knew there was nothing wrong with the water. Ellie was simply being a horse. The dogs at least took the opportunity to fill up.
Laureal and Mia returned, and having knocked much snow loose while chopping branches, they stopped to brush snow from one another’s clothes. Jessie also emerged and joined them.
“John,” Emma began, “would you be so kind as to take the twins down?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Very much alive with blood pumping from chopping ice, John walked around the other side of the giant. “Who wants to fly like a bird?” smiling up at Noah and Sophie.
“I do!” cried Noah.
“Well alright then,” using his long reach to throw the buffalo cloak up and back. Then, as he lifted Sophie out and over his head in an arch, he spoke like a boxing ring announcer that welcomes a princess to a grand ball, “And—it’s ladiiieeesss first!”
Returning for Noah, John lifted the boy high and flew him about exaggeratedly above his head, “There he goes! Up in the sky! Soaring like an eagle! Swoosh! Swoosh!”
No more had Noah got his feet on the ground than he went charging about, “Woohoo! Woohoo!”
Mia spun and scolded him, “I told you never to run around the horse!”
“It’s my fault,” John interceded, coming forward, running his mitt along Ellie’s side to comfort her. Then, kneeling down to Noah’s level, “You’re excused this time, little buddy, but remember, what your mother said is true. Never run around a horse.”
With the twins turned over to the women, John went to have a look at the deer trail. Upon his return, he spoke to Cody, “Do you want to take Ellie up?”
“Yes,” as certain as he was anxious.
“All right then. It’s not very steep, so she shouldn’t lurch as long as you don’t allow her to get in a hurry. Otherwise, she might get away from you. But that’s not going to happen because she’s already gotten used to following you, and she’s going to watch to see how you lead out. All you need do is be calm but firm. Make eye contact and say, ‘Okay Ellie, we’re going to take this nice and easy.’ Then lead out with your arm the way I showed you. Remember, she reads your body as much as your words. Move steadily and deliberately. If you slip, that’s okay. She’s seen me slip and fall a dozen times. If she starts to get ahead of you, say ‘Easy girl.’ If she doesn’t respond, bark and turn into her. Your will must be bigger than hers!”
Breaking into a smile, John added, “I know she’s big, and it’s a lot to do, but don’t worry, I’ll be right there with you.”
John then turned to Jessie, “If you would trade me places,” redundantly offering his rifle.
Jessie accepted the weapon, “John…take care of my little boy!”
The Seeker opened his mouth to speak but he never got the chance …
“Mom—!” Cody musically protested.
“Just be careful,” looking on with motherly concern before turning to take her position as rear guard.
Emma took the twins a safe distance to the rear. Her intent was simple, stay out of harm’s way should the giant become claustrophobic and try to back out of the natural chute.
Laureal, on her way to take up her position with Mia at the back of the sled, ran her mitten along the sleeve of John’s coat as she passed. He alone could see into her hood, and seeing the look in her eyes, he uttered a few words under his breath which in turn caused Laureal to come back directly—
“What did you say?” eying him with suspicion.
John leaned forward and whispered into her hood, “I said, you’re such a naughty girl.”
“You misinterpret me, sir.”
“Oh really? How so?”
“I saw you with Noah and Sophie, and Cody too, and I was thinking what a wonderful father you will be.”
Taken off guard, John could find no words even as his eyes spoke volumes.
“But if I’m a bad girl…then lucky for you,” and she spun away.
“As I recall, you don’t believe in luck,” John called after her.
“Can we please just get on with it!” Cody protested.
All went smoothly, and the humans proceeded on the river path, gnawing chunks of pemmican as they went. Jessie walked at the point followed by Cody leading Ellie. The twins rode in the packsaddle. Emma both rode on the back of the sled and walked behind depending on the condition of the path. Laureal and Mia manned the rear corners to make certain the sled remained upright. John brought up the rear as always.
Not a half mile further had they progressed when a sudden gust swayed the treetops, dislodging snow on the uppermost boughs, sending it down in a chain reaction from branch to branch to become waterfalls of dry white powder. It poured down all around, ending in billows of snow dust rolling like fog over the ground until, settling and dissipating, the forest once again stood dead still.
“Looks like you were right, Grandmother.”
No more had Laureal spoken than the sled ran up on a branch buried beneath the snow, whereupon the young woman responded at once, driving with legs to counter the imbalance.
Walking behind the sled, Emma’s eyes spoke to the intuition that dogged her. The frozen fog was dissipating but that was to be expected. There had been no shift in wind direction. No big change in air temperature. Nothing to warn of the warm air mass that had pushed up from the south. And yet the warm air was there, directly above them at 30,000 feet. It had collided with the cold arctic air and rolled over it like a wave. A great atmospheric force, pulling air down from the north, growing rapidly even as it lay hidden.
“Cody, we need to stop.”
“What is it, Grandma?”
“I’m not sure, dear,” shaking her head. Then, turning to the Seeker, “John.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I hate to ask, but would you please find a place where you can access the river? Go out on the ice where you can get an unobstructed view and see if you can see anything in the sky to the south.”
So cryptic was Emma’s countenance, John asked no question but immediately passed the rifle to Laureal and started down the path in the direction they’d come.
“Jessie,” Emma called.
Jessie came around the giant, “What’s the matter, Mom?”
“I fear a storm has found us.”
Jessie followed her mother’s eyes to the canopy where, lo and behold, the highest boughs began to sway. No more had Jessie seen the warning than a flock of wobblers swept across the path and into the deeper wood where they took shelter under a fir.
“Let us proceed slowly,” said the Matriarch, “that we do not get too far ahead of John,” her intent that they not become separated in the event of a whiteout.
Back on point, Jessie acted at her mother’s behest and kept an eye out for a naturally sheltered campsite. Meanwhile at the rear, Laureal glanced back continually in anticipation of John’s return, and catching sight of him, she knew something was terribly wrong—
“Grandma! John is coming!”
At a full run, John slowed only to avoid spooking his horse. Then approaching with some semblance of calm, he came breathing heavily, “A storm approaches from the south. It draws in the gloom and rides high into the sky like a wave.”
“What color is it?”
“Black as night.”
“John,” Laureal uttered, her tone a mix of dread and disbelief.
The Seeker turned to the Matriarch, his eyes burning with intent, “With your permission, I will lead us into the deeper forest.”
“We haven’t a moment to waste.”
John turned to Jessie, “If you would trade me places?”
Laureal passed the rifle to her mother who in turn took the rear guard position.
Taking point, John signaled for Cody to bring Ellie along as he left the path and headed away from the river and into the shelter of the wood.
Laureal and Mia had to work hard, for although the ground lay mostly flat, dead branches buried beneath the snow caused the sled to rock side to side, a few being large enough to cause a rollover if not counteracted. Emma did not ride but walked behind. The dogs walked directly behind Emma, having been ordered to do so. And Jessie brought up the rear.
Ahead of the giant, John turned to Cody, “Follow my tracks. Come along as quickly as you can but too fast…you do not want to wreck the sled!”
John then vanished, trotting into the trees. On the heels of his departure, the north wind rushed through the treetops, dislodging the snow there, causing it to pour down from bough to bough, cascading like waterfalls to obliterate the Seeker’s tracks.
“John!” called Cody.
“I’m here,” came his distant voice.
“Where? I’ve lost your tacks!”
A second gust stronger than before sent down a series of snow bombs—one a direct hit on Ellie—her giant head, like a bug-eyed wraith, was all to be seen above billows of snow dust.
Ellie lunged left in an attempt to bolt only to crash into a tree branch and break it. The shrieks of the children emanated from within the cloud as the giant swung to the right, pulling Cody with her like a ragdoll—
“Whoa!” holding to the rope for all his worth, himself covered in snow dust, “Whoa! Whoa!”
“Mommy!” howled the twins, their little faces visible at last, caked in white powder, “Mommy!”
“I’m here!” cried Mia, who, having run up on the right, found herself locked in a panicky dance with the giant.
“Mia, wait!” Cody cried out, unable to bring Ellie under control.
Mia only appeared to make things worse when in reality she inadvertently blocked the giant’s escape path. Hemmed in elsewhere by the forest, Ellie had only stopped for fear of running over Mia. And still the giant danced wildly! The twins shrieked, and the boy cried, “WHOA! WHOA!”
Emma came forward on a beeline, snatched the lead rope between boy and beast and, without shouting, came face-to-face with Ellie, “Settle down!”
Ellie stammered, her great head taken aback as far as her massive neck could hold it. Her huge eyes, bulging with fright, remained fixed on the Matriarch.
Emma glanced at the girls, “Bring them out!” she ordered, her tone urgent in the knowledge that, due to the giant’s warmth, the powdery snow that had gotten into every crack and crevice would quickly melt, in which case the children would become perilously wet.
Ellie remained in place even as she fussed about with nervous little steps which, due to her great size, caused no small difficulty. Still, the girls managed to get the twins out and down. They then removed the children’s coats and pants, brushed away snow from inner layers, and quickly bundled the children back up again.
Jessie remained at her post on her mother’s orders. Orders based on knowledge, or at least on knowledge of an account as old and far-reaching as the trail itself: A half-dozen wolves had rushed in on an unsuspecting family with perfect timing and, amid the chaos, vanished just as quickly with a small child.
Much to everyone’s relief, John came trotting back, “What’s happened?”
“We got dumped on,” Cody replied, brushing snow dust from his coat and pants.
John swept snow from Ellie’s neck and shoulder while stepping around her side where, seeing the empty child seats filled with white powder, he took them down and quickly cleaned them out before returning them to the packsaddle.
The wind and snow continued to rise as Mia and Laureal returned the twins to their seats. At the same time, John reported to Emma and Jessie—
“A grove of cedars lies 200 paces ahead,” referring to eastern red cedars—stalwart little trees, dense and bushy enough to deny passage to strong winds. Originally planted by the thousands as windbreaks around northern homesteads of the 20th century, the invasive species had found its niche in the forest.
“We must go…now,” John enjoined.
“It’s here,” Emma uttered, gazing north with dreadful foreboding. “We’ve no time left.”
“We have time,” John rebutted, but no more had he spoken than a mighty gust gathered up snow from forest floor and tree limbs alike. Filled with ice crystals, it blasted their eyes as it rushed through the trees. Ice-cold air pulled down from the north—like an undertow in a powerful surf, it blasted them again and again. And so it was, the storm fell upon them as would a ravenous lion spring on its prey.
Scarcely able to see, John put his hand on Cody’s shoulder and shouted into his hood, “I’ll lead Ellie…you help your grandmother!” Then with a wave of his arm and shoulder, he motioned to the others, “THIS WAY!”
Falling back on instinct, Ellie tried to hunker down, that she might weather the storm. Having none of it, John pulled her lead and barked over the wind, “Come on, Ellie! COME ON, DAMMIT!”
Deadly as their fortune had turned, the family was not entirely at the storm’s mercy. Stout and in the prime of life, John plowed at the point with resolute determination. And because they headed east, the windows of Ellie’s buffalo cloak faced south, protecting the twins from the slicing wind. Laureal and Mia, also in the prime of life, kept the sled upright. Grandmother and grandson followed directly behind, holding to one another on the path cut by beast and sled. Jessie brought up the rear and, albeit in a blurry whiteout, could easily see the giant’s form at the front of the column. The dogs, woolly creatures of hardy northern origins, stayed near as loyalty and instinct demanded.
Exposed as they were, they wouldn’t last long without shelter, and presently Laureal got the worst of it. Her position at the sled’s back corner on the south side meant she could not turn from the gales as she struggled to keep the rig upright. To make matters worse, every time a buried obstacle tossed the sled her way, the wind caught the rig like a sail and threatened to roll it over on her. Stubbornly she pushed back, fighting with every atom of her being, driving with her legs, at times going to her knees but quickly scrambling up again. The fierce wind bit her cheeks. Driving ice crystals stung her eyes. Her lashes became heavily crusted with snow and ice until, alas, semi-blinded, she scarcely heard Mia’s shouts above the deafening roar—
“Trade me places!” Mia cried, her voice lost to the storm until she came across the runners and, getting hold of Laureal, screamed, “TRADE ME PLACES!”
Taking her turn in the grinder so to speak, Mia drove against the gales with powerful legs, her lower center of gravity being advantageous.
For all their stalwart nature, our little band of hunter-gatherers were run through with fear, so dreadful had their situation become.
“Lord, help us!” cried Emma, her voice drowned out, save that the one mortal soul close enough to hear took it to heart and doubled down on helping his grandmother along.
Old but not so old as to require the boy’s assistance, Emma clutched Cody all the more dearly to her side.
Meanwhile at the front, the cedar grove came into view; a shadow in a whiteout, robust trees standing like soldiers in a phalanx, holding their ground in the withering chaos of battle. Eastern red cedars, about fifteen feet in height and semi-conical in form, their thick bushy bases began on the ground, leaving no room for the enemy to come cutting even from underneath.
As John closed the yards, the grove rose before him like a great hedge. A few lone cedars appeared as outliers behind which stood a nearly impenetrable wall.
With no other choice, the Seeker pressed into the snow-laden branches. As he did, he pulled at the lead and his faithful giant followed. Instinctually, the twins curled up in their boxes beneath the buffalo cloak, shielding themselves as best they could from the branches that dragged against the giant’s sides. It was a situation tolerable only because the snow that came in on them did not come with the momentum of before.
Directly behind the giant, Laureal and Mia stumbled and struggled mightily against the dragging branches but were at least spared from icy blankets of snow because man and beast had already knocked most of it away.
Emma and Cody came next. “Thank you, Lord,” said the Matriarch to herself, for no more had she and Cody pressed in ten feet then the wind fell off. Just behind them, Jessie made sure the elder dog Chewy got in. She then turned for a final look back before slipping between the boughs.
Pressing through to better fortune, the travelers found an opening near the heart of the grove. Roughly twenty-five feet at its widest point, the tiny clearing had been invaded when a large black spruce fell into the grove years before. Only the skeleton of the spruce remained, engulfed by the cedars except for that part of it that lay in the clear.
As a campsite it didn’t look like much, what with broken bits and pieces of spruce branches cluttering its makeup. Still, the Kasskatchens recognized its potential immediately—it was their mortal salvation.
John parallel parked Ellie along the inside wall of the opening with the twins facing inward, “You did good, girl,” brushing snow from Ellie’s face. “You can sleep now. Sleep all you want.”
Even with sharp ears, Ellie didn’t hear John so much as she read his lips and facial expression, such was the roar of the wind in the trees. She understood he was commending her. She knew they had reached safety.
“Oh John,” Laureal cried, coming forward, shocked to see him caked from head to toe.
Turning to her, he gripped her by the shoulders and, if only for a moment, they held one another’s gaze, hood to hood, exchanging such a look as to share their entire lives in a single glance.
“Look after the twins,” was all he said, his voice raised only that she might hear, for although the cedars blocked the wind, the storm yet roared in a great continuous blast, thundering throughout the forest. And even in that protected enclave, snow-filled drafts came dancing like specters over the hedge-like walls.
Jessie came forward, a special tool in hand, taken from the sled; she used it to paddle and comb the heaviest snow quickly from John. She then stripped off his coat, shaking and beating it out while John and Laureal hurriedly brushed off his underlayers. The twins underwent a similar process, after which they were re-bundled and returned to the packsaddle, their place of warmth and safety for the time being.
“John,” Emma called from just five feet away. And getting his attention, she made a sweeping motion with her hand as she shouted, “Can you clear this area?”
The Seeker nodded and gave a thumbs-up with his mitt. Then, fetching ax from sled, he set to chopping dead branches from the fallen spruce, carving out an area for their tent.
Emma turned to Cody, shouting as she must, “Clear the ground, pile the dead wood here!” Then addressing Jessie, “Take Laureal and chop out a den,” pointing to cedars on the south side of the opening.
Jessie and Laureal used spears to knock snow from boughs, then forced their way between the branches and set to sawing and chopping with bucksaw and hatchets. The work was down low, tight, and difficult but became easier as they opened up a natural den. John finished his ax work and joined Cody in clearing the ground and piling firewood. Mia and Emma gathered boughs from where Laureal and Jessie had tossed them, and continuing together with help from John and Cody, they trimmed and laid out the boughs and erected the tent on top, its door facing the opening to the den that had been carved from the hedge, a supply of firewood piled to one side.
Ellie hunkered down and slept in a standing stupor. The dogs curled up in the snow like huskies. The humans entered their den by crouching under the boughs and crawling onto a carpet of caribou blankets. Old blankets, not fit for the tent, dog beds almost but still thicker than thin, lain atop fir boughs. Humble it was, and yet, what with such a crazy change of fortune, great feelings of relief and hope prevailed as everyone gathered in like a huddle of football players, the wind playing the role of a roaring crowd—
“I could not have foreseen this,” Emma began with enthusiasm, “but here we are with the opportunity for a hot meal.” And continuing somewhat loudly as necessary, “Cody, bring some firewood in. Laureal, get a small cook fire going here,” pointing to the center of the floor. “Jessie and Mia, retrieve what we need from the sled to make an early supper. John, if you would please, cut several large pieces of wood to ring our fire and lay your grill across. Laureal and Mia, once the fire is going, bring the twins in. Okay, now let’s all join hands. And Jessie, if you would please?”
With heads bowed, Jessie lifted her voice so that all may hear heartfelt words of thanks.
Thanks to good preparations, Laureal did not have to search for fire fodder in a blizzard but instead used from emergency stores. Soon a fire was going, and not long after, hot porridge warmed their cores. Close around their little fire, they sat in their makeshift den. Stray snowflakes, no bigger than gnats, floated about, having filtered down from above. The small cook fire didn’t produce much heat, but hot porridge and, most importantly, the quality of their winter armor went a long way in keeping the family alive.
“How did you find this place?” Cody asked, looking at John.
“I just stumbled on it.”
“One does not stumble on a place like this with only hours to live,” Mia countered, gazing at the horseman before lowering her eye to the children gathered close at her sides. Then returning her eyes to John, “The hand of God brought you here.”
“Could be, I suppose.” And moving his eyes to the twins, “So what was it like being buried in an avalanche?”
“What’s an avalanche?” asked Noah, his fur-lined face a picture of puzzlement.
“An avalanche,” with eyes growing wide, “is when a whole bunch of snow falls off the side of a mountain, or a tree in this case, and it buries you alive!”
“It was terrible!” Sophie exclaimed, her eyes also growing large.
“And freezing cold!” Noah added.
“You weren’t completely buried,” Mia interjected.
“And thank goodness they weren’t,” nodding in exaggeration, his gaze fixed on the twins, “Just think, we may never have found you!”
“Oh good grief!” cried Cody. “There wasn’t that much snow, although, it was terrible.”
Happy to be alive they were! And with nothing more to do, Emma called it a day even though daylight remained. Before entering the tent, they used a long paddle with a comb-like edge, helping one another to beat and comb snow and ice from fur coats, trousers, and boots, which could then be removed just inside the tent door.
In they went one at a time, each removing their outer clothes and, while still in their underlayers, crawling under caribou blankets. The storm roared as if the world would end and, oddly perhaps, as they closed their eyes, their dry tent and warm beds never felt better.
