Kris

by J. J. Ruscella

  Near a dense stand of trees, I directed Sebastian off the trail to examine the area for signs of human crossing or shelter that might have been constructed. Slowly we marched on through the faint pillars of light and shadow that painted the forest floor. The woods were newly frozen from the downpour, and all life seemed suspended in time as if it had cocooned itself in some protective enclave until the strong grip of winter loosened its hold and dissolved.

  We pressed forward, and I sought to reach higher ground in an effort to gain a wider view of the land. Sebastian was my brave companion, and he carefully picked his way across the open, rocky expanses that we covered over stone and ice as I surveyed all that was before us.

  Higher we climbed, but no matter what our vantage point, we were unable to detect any speck of movement on the white sea of snow that flowed before us to the horizon.

  Is this a futile search? I feared that the wet and icy fingers of winter already had caught Olaf. I begged God that Ona and her parents would not feel the pangs of loss with which I was so familiar. I had such grief in my heart to know that somehow I had contributed to Olaf’s peril, and I wanted desperately to make amends.

  Quick movement in the trees jostled me and pulled me from my drifting and fearful thoughts. A large group of reindeer burst from a clump of trees and sprinted across the snow pack. They were farther south than they should have been. I watched them glide forward, flexing powerful muscles to master the thick crusts of ice and snow that had formed on the hard earth floor where they ran. And as I watched them, I thought about the first time I had seen them glide across the snow in this manner as if they were flying above the land amid the broad plumes that sprayed up behind them as they dashed ahead in pursuit of safety and isolation from any man or beast that might wish them harm.

  We paused in tribute to this spectacle of freedom and unbounded elegance. The world spoke to us about our place in its magnificence and in this vast spectrum of life and wild majesty to which we served as constant witness.

  Wolves howled in the distance, and I encouraged Sebastian to increase his speed.

  Olaf rode his sled, pulled by his dog, slowly over the rough terrain. Both were tired now and challenged by the cold.

  Olaf knew that they would have to rest soon and grew worried about the night’s gale.

  Wolfie slowed to a halt and yelped at Olaf.

  “What is it, boy?” Olaf asked. “You think we should find some place to stop now?”

  Wolfie barked at him and howled, encouraged by the boy’s voice.

  “We can go there by the rocks for protection from the wind,” Olaf said. And he dragged the sled toward a collection of boulders and a ledge in the distance.

  Olaf stopped briefly to gather a sizeable collection of broken branches and fallen wood in a rich section of forest and piled them on the sled. He stopped near the rocks and unloaded the wood so he could build a fire to keep them warm throughout the night.

  The flames heated the bitter air and reflected off the rocks surrounding them to bring some relief for now.

  As time passed, Olaf grew more worried and soon realized that he was desperately lost. He had seen no sign of Santa or of anyone since they had left his village home. The food he had brought was enough for a day but no more. Olaf lamented his shortsightedness.

  He broke off pieces of dried meat for him and Wolfie. Olaf remained determined to find Santa. If he could just warn Santa, he thought, maybe he could help Santa avoid the wrath of his father.

  Olaf held Wolfie close to him as he laid down to rest near the blazing fire. He covered himself and his dog in mounds of blankets and felt the heat from the fire sharing its warming breath as he drifted off to sleep.

  In his dreams Olaf searched for Santa endlessly through the snowy wilderness. In the distance he could hear the call of his mother, but he could never find her. So much time had passed that he was certain his family would be frightened, and he wished there were some way to show them he was still safe. In his confused and troubled dreams, he could not discover a solution to the difficulty he was now facing.

  Olaf awoke with Wolfie licking his cheeks.

  Ahead, suddenly, I could make out evidence of movement on the horizon. What seemed to be a small group of men and sleds passed slowly across the ice and snow toward a large patch of forest. I directed our course toward them and hoped to catch them to learn what they had seen while traveling this region. The men halted as they came to the wooded area and appeared to be unloading their sleds to make a camp for the night. They continued working while Sebastian and I rode on, making haste to confer with them.

  As we approached, one of the men warned the others that a stranger had arrived. The men stopped working and gathered tools that were near them. A tall and solid man who could have been their leader raised his hand and signaled to me in the distance.

  “What ho there?” he yelled as he raised one large hand to signal that I should slow or stop.

  I reined in Sebastian and prepared to announce myself in a way that would not alarm them. From this distance I could see the men were hunters “My name is Kris,” I said. “I seek your help.”

  “And how do you think we could help you?” the tall, solid man said simply.

  “I am searching for a lost boy” I told them.

  The men were unresponsive to my statement.

  “What is your name, my friend?” I asked of the stranger in an effort to encourage more communication.

  “Canute,” the stranger said flatly.

  “I see your men are hunters,” I said to Canute. “You must know the land well.”

  “Well enough,” Canute said.

  “Canute knows this land better than he knows his wife!” one of the men shouted.

  “The ice out here is nothing compared to the ice he finds at home,” laughed another.

  “Jorgen and Vegar are simple men,” Canute said, tilting his head back toward them with a wink. “But I told their mums I’d look after them. You see, they was lost boys, too.”

  He looked me over for a good while as he thought. “We will set up a small camp here to rest our teams and prepare for tomorrow.”

  “I have ridden long through the wet snow,” I said. “May I join your camp for a few moments of rest?”

  “Can you gather wood?” Canute asked.

  “Yes,” I responded even as I coughed.

  “Then gather wood for the fire, and you can join us,” Canute said.

  I tied Sebastian’s reins to a tree and followed Jorgen and Vegar into the nearby forest to gather firewood.

  We dragged large sections of wind-broken branches and fallen sticks toward the camp and returned several times for more until we had an impressive pile of firewood ready for the night. We then created a perimeter for the fire pit with thick branches that we cut and positioned in a circle around the shallow hole Vegar dug with a short, blunt shovel.

  Canute was busy near the fire pit lacing together long poles which would support the canvas sheets that would serve as barriers to the wind and moisture and reflect the heat from the fire upon us as we prepared a meal. When the wood was piled in sufficient quantities to last them through the night, we joined Canute in securing the canvas to the poles. Jorgen and Vegar moved their sleds closer to our sanctuary, and I brought Sebastian beside my shelter near the fire so he could stay warm and safe.

  At last we had a raging fire underway and shared the blessings of its heat and the smell of roasting meat sizzling over the flames. I had cakes that I gave to Sebastian and the men. We all ripped off big chunks of roasted bear that Canute had presented for the meal.

  “This brown bear came upon our camp last week,” Canute said to me as the others ate. “We invited him to stay with us, too.”

  “Then we’ll both enjoy your hospitality,” I said in a friendly tone.

  “It’s not usual to see a man travel this harsh land alone,” Canute said.

  “I’m not alone. I have Sebastian,” I offered in response.
/>   Sebastian stomped his hooves in approval.

  “Well, your companion is a mighty war horse,” Canute said.

  “He delivers joy, not war,” I corrected Canute.

  “I see,” Canute said, wiping his greasy hands on his pant legs. “Then, you’d be delivering joy to the boy you be looking for?” Canute asked wryly.

  “Only if I can find him,” I said. “Bringing him home will be a great joy for all.”

  “We seen some men was looking for someone,” said Jorgen.

  “Where?” I asked with interest.

  “Where we came from,” said Vegar. “Over there.” And he pointed off to the vast wilderness behind us.

  “How many men?” I asked.

  “More than one,” Jorgen said with a laugh.

  “We didn’t count ’em,” Canute said. “But there was a group of men, maybe ten, maybe more. They was spread out.” He looked at me closely to see my reaction. “They was looking for a big man, too.”

  “Oh,” I said. “And what was their luck?”

  “Can’t say,” Canute muttered.

  “The boy came looking for me,” I said at last.

  “Did he?” Canute said.

  “Yes. I think he came to bring a message, or warn me.”

  “And, how do you know this, if the boy is lost?”

  “Herders in my village spoke with people from his.”

  “I see,” Canute said.

  “It would be a miracle to find him alive,” I said.

  “Do you believe in miracles?” Canute asked. And the other men watched me closely, awaiting my response.

  “Yes. Yes I do. I was once lost too,” I said. “And by a miracle I was saved.” The men looked at each other and exchanged subtle glances and indications of trust in my assertions by a nod or tilt of the head.

  “Well, we didn’t see no one,” Canute said. “That’s what we told the other men too.” And he looked me over again. “But they was angry men. Full of hate, it seemed.” Canute picked scraps of meat from his teeth as he talked. “And we did not believe they would not harm the man they was seeking.”

  “Some men make the world dangerous when fear and anger fill their hearts,” I said.

  “I like you,” Canute said after a moment. “There is no hate in your heart. So we will help you.”

  “How will you do that?” I asked, coughing harder now.

  “We didn’t see the boy you want. But we did see some sign of tracks awhile back from here. Looked to be a dog pulling some kind of sledge. Could have been your child.”

  “Where?” I asked with amazement, standing and coughing.

  “Sit. You need the food, and a few minutes of rest won’t hurt you,” Canute said. “In the forest near the fjord we found the strange tracks; we can tell you where to search. Or, we can take you.”

  Then Canute added an air of apology to his words. “We didn’t know it was a lost boy, or we would have helped him.”

  “Thank you,” I told Canute and his men. “I must set out for the fjord immediately to search for him.”

  “Eat first. You need the strength.”

  The wolves moved relentlessly through the forest searching for small animals they could feast upon. But the cold forest floor offered little promise they would find what they were seeking on this night. They wove in and out of shadows like phantoms that appeared and disappeared at will. Any creature that should try to avoid them would have little suspicion of their numbers or their stealthy approach.

  The pack leader changed his course and climbed up onto the slope that led to the rocky shelf jutting out beyond the forest’s edge. The other wolves followed his path through the white mist, and soon the ridge was dotted with moving shadows that passed between and disappeared among the greyback boulders and glided along the open spaces between them.

  At the crest of the ridge, the pack leader surveyed the land below. The full silver moonlight cast across the vast expanse of rock and forest leading to the fjord. And then as the others joined him near the highest point, the wolf caught a trace of movement in the distance. It was too far away for him to know precisely what it might be, but he could see something move slowly across the snow, signaling that it was alive and easy prey.

  The wolf watched the creature continue in its journey and howled in his anticipation of the kill, and the other wolves joined in chorus as their songs of hunger changed into a statement of intent.

  I startled awake, immediately guilty for having fallen asleep.

  The men were packing the camp. “You needed the moment of rest.” Canute handed me a cup of warm broth.

  I quickly drank, feeling better for the warmth, and went to check on Sebastian.

  Canute looked at the satchel on Sebastian’s pommel as I handed him his cup. “We heard stories from the strangers. They said the man they looked for was the one who brought toys to children in the villages.”

  I looked into his eyes to assess his meaning and intent and listened as he continued.

  “They was fearful of the plague,” he said.

  “Plague drives fear through the hearts of many men, especially those easily consumed by fear.”

  “Well, we ain’t the fearful type,” Canute said. “And I can see as you are not fearful either.”

  “No. Not fearful. But concerned for the boy. For his safety.”

  “You may not have the plague, but you are not well. Your illness should be your concern too,” Canute said.

  “It is just the wet weather leaving its mark,” I said, suppressing a cough.

  “Out here the cold and wet weather will kill you surer than the wolves.”

  “Well, I will continue on as my strength allows. It is important the boy is found.”

  “Yes, it is.” Canute said.

  “And what of you?” I asked. “What brings you to this distant place? And why do you persist?”

  “We are hunters,” Canute said. “So, we are here to hunt. And, now we hunt for a child, with you.”

  “We heard many stories of you,” Jorgen blurted out.

  “Stories?”

  “Yes,” Vegar said. “Of the man they call the Santa.”

  “And, do you think I am the Santa?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Jorgen said. “Some say he wears a great red coat.” Then he paused to look me over. “And you wear such a coat.”

  “You leave behind a long trail of stories,” Canute said.

  “In my village, children wait for you each year,” Jorgen added. “Their parents tell them to be good or the Santa will not come.”

  “And I tell Jorgen to be good or the Santa will pass him by too,” Vegar said. “But, it don’t matter much, ’cause Jorgen is still a bad boy.” He laughed as Jorgen pointed a thick finger to caution him.

  “I am just a toy maker,” I said. “I am no saint.”

  “But children dream because of you,” Vegar said.

  “They dream because there is much to dream about,” I said “and many miracles to behold.”

  “These men who wish to harm you do not understand miracles,” Canute said.

  “Maybe not,” I agreed “but perhaps one day they will experience one.”

  “Yes,” Canute said, “and they will learn that miracles exist even in things they fear. Like gifts and toys and joy brought to them by the Santa.”

  “Canute, Jorgen, Vegar,” I said to them directly. “Let’s be on our way.”

  “There are places to shelter near the fjord,” Canute announced as he leapt into his sleigh. “The weather is warmer there, as the wind comes from the west off the currents in the water. If the boy lives, I think he will have gone to shelter.”

  “Then we shall go there,” I said. “And we will find him.”

  “How do you know we will find him?” Vegar asked.

  “Because I believe in miracles.”

  Jacob and Thatcher roused the men from their cold sleep on the frozen earth.

  “We haven’t had much luck, Jacob. We’ve lost the fi
rst few days of Christmas,” Thatcher said. “How about we let the men go home and spend the rest of the holiday with their families?”

  “What if he carries the plague?” Jacob demanded.

  “Then I’ll be a horse’s keister, because I don’t think this man would put our children in danger for anything,” Rolf spat from behind them.

  “You don’t know that,” Jacob retorted.

  The sounds of breaking branches and the gallop of a fast-approaching horse broke the silence of the morning. Percy rode at full speed from the trees, leaping from the horse’s back and landing at the feet of the men. He had aged from the day before and looked as if he’d ridden through the night.

  “It’s Olaf,” Percy shouted.

  Pel guided his sled along the forest’s edge. Haakon, Baldur, and Eilif drove their sleds behind him and fanned out across the open ground as their reindeer surged ahead. They had searched the major forest trails, but Pel began to doubt he would discover Olaf in this manner. He issued a shrill cry to the others, who slowed in response. At his signal, they moved closer together once more and stopped to examine the options before them.

  Pel told the other men he worried about Kris and felt they would do better by reconnecting with him. He decided they would circle back toward the fjord in an effort to find Kris and the boy. “If the boy is alive,” Pel said to his men, “the wolves already have discovered him.”

  As Pel positioned himself in the sled, he signaled to Baldur, Eilif, and Haakon, and they charged off once more in an effort to find Kris and Olaf.

  Olaf marched through the slushy snow, dragging the sled with his satchel on his back. Wolfie lagged behind. Olaf was unsure what to do except to walk ahead and look for shelter or someone to help him.

  “You stay right beside me, Wolfie!” And Wolfie wagged his tail and marched along with Olaf as they continued through the slush.

  Olaf was unaware that the wolves were following them now and watching every move, waiting patiently for a time to sweep in and attack.

  As he trudged forward, Olaf shared his thoughts with Wolfie, who was an eager listener, tail and ears at attention. “We have to find Santa,” he said. “If we can tell him what happened at the Christmas gathering and warn him, maybe it will keep him from getting into trouble with Papa and the men from the village.”