LITMIR.BIZ

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The hoofbeats thundered on the ground.

      “Heaven help our little girl,” Alv whispered. “Heaven help both of them. And Ulvhedin.”

      “Especially him,” Berit said quietly.

      Chapter 3

      Dan had a packhorse with him, a necessity because his research equipment was bulky and unmanageable. His plan was to travel to Dovre. There ought to be an abundance of flora to examine there. From there he would have to see whether he wanted to continue northwards.

      If only he had had company!

      But the men of the Ice People tended to be like lone wolves and did not mind travelling alone for vast distances.

      Imagine if Ingrid had been there along with him! She was so easy to talk with. Her way of thinking was exactly like a man’s way.

      It was probably a good thing that Ingrid did not know what Dan was thinking! The women of the Ice People had always been very well aware of their self-worth. They cherished it and would act as mad horses rearing on their hind legs if anyone dared challenge it.

      But Dan certainly had great respect for the mind of the very beautiful and wild Ingrid.

      The packhorse trudged along gloomily behind his own horse. He sensed that there was rain in the air.

      He was now a good distance from Graastensholm and had joined the main road going north. Since he was riding alone with such a big load there was a risk that he might attract robbers and other vagabonds. So he was well armed, and kept his pistol within reach. The pistol was always loaded and ready for use.

      When he caught sight of another rider’s silhouette against the sky on the other side of the wide valley he cautiously reined in his horse. The rider seemed threatening, perhaps because he had positioned his horse standing across the road, as though he were waiting for something.

      Or was it something else that was filling Dan with fear?

      What could that be? Dan was not one of the group of Ice People who had psychic powers. Nevertheless, his heart began to pound. He had a stifling premonition of misfortune, or something like it.

      Without his even noticing it, Dan’s hand reached for his pistol.

      Then he resolutely continued riding. There was no other road that he could take: the rider had chosen a strategic spot. But why had the rider stationed himself there in the open, in full view? Would it not have been better for him to lie in wait? This highwayman, or whatever he thought he was, was a very little man. The small figure seemed very determined.

      In fact, the rider did not look all that threatening; still, Dan was really alarmed. But when he reached the bottom of the valley, he made a surprising discovery. The rider was a woman!

      Perhaps she was a woman who was scared and lonely and needed someone to accompany her through the dangerous forest that lay ahead?

      Dan reined in his horse as the shock forced the air out of his lungs in an intense gasp.

      It was Ingrid who was sitting up there on the crest of the hill!

      He spurred the horse in suppressed anger.

      Well, a kind of anger. Not even to himself could he deny the fact that it made him happy. Happy, elated, but also concerned. So what did he do then?

      The most natural thing. “What on earth are you doing here? Have you gone mad?” he asked.

      Ingrid beamed like the sun. Without the least remorse, she cheerfully replied, “I plan to join you and help you find your little leaves and flowers.”

      “But you can’t do that! What would your parents say? Turn back and ride home immediately!”

      “It’s too far,” she said with a careless air. “It will be dark before I reach home.”

      That was true. Dan stared at her, incensed and troubled, but fascinated by her gorgeous colouring and cheeky glance. She must be an unparalleled temptress for any man who was interested and not related to her.

      “I will have to accompany you home then,” he hissed.

      “See if you can get me to join you!”

      Ingrid dug her heels into the sides of the horse and galloped away northwards. There was nothing Dan could do but try to catch up with her, but how was he to do that with a heavy loaded packhorse in tow?

      He quickly realized that he would never be able to catch up with Ingrid, so he shouted, “Stop! You win!”

      Gentle and seductive, Ingrid sat there on her horse waiting for Dan. Her copper red hair shone in the evening sun, her yellow eyes had the colour of hammered brass and her mouth was moist and red, with gleaming white teeth.

      No woman could possibly be more beautiful, Dan thought.

      But there was something else about Ingrid’s posture that day. An indomitable self-assurance. A proud confidence. Dan was suddenly seized by the thought that this is how a woman looks when she has finally managed to conquer the man she loves.

      But that assumption scarcely applied to Ingrid. It was highly unlikely that she would ever need to mount a fight to get a man. They would keel over if she so much as looked at them.

      “I’m damned if you don’t look thoroughly self-satisfied,” Dan muttered sulkily.

      “That’s because I am,” Ingrid answered with a shameless grin. “I am strong now. Invincible. Immortal!”

      Then the triumphant look in her eyes vanished and was replaced by one of perplexed concern. “Almost,” she quietly added.

      “What could you possibly be missing?” Dan asked sarcastically.

      The clear gleam in Ingrid’s eyes grew hazy. “I don’t know,” she answered distractedly.

      Then she pulled herself together. “I want to go with you!”

      “No you don’t!”

      “You need me. Come, let’s go on!”

      Dan blocked Ingrid’s way with his horse. “What is it that you have in your saddlebag? You are constantly stroking it as though it were your most cherished possession.”

      “So it is.”

      “Tell me what it is.”

      “That’s none of your business. Move, or I’ll put a spell on you using my magic powers and transform you into a lovesick frog that has fallen for a cow it can’t reach.”

      Dan couldn’t help but smile a little. “Luckily, you can’t do that.”

      Ingrid’s eyes grew narrow. “Do you want to see?”

      “Stop carrying on. Off with you, now! Go back to your mother.”

      The discussion continued for a while longer, growing increasingly heated, the tones of their voices growing more sharp.

      Then they rode on.

      Northwards.

      “I hear you are going to marry,” Ingrid said in the cooing, affectionate voice a woman uses when she has won a victory.

      Dan’s tone of voice was considerably more sombre. “Yes. When I return home.”

      “Is she nice?”

      “I don’t know,” Dan answered and thought of Madeleine who now seemed anaemic and boring. Dan had once thought of Madeleine as being both beautiful and dignified. “She seems all right.”

      “But you are not in love with her?”

      “In love? No ...” he grimaced. “What does that mean anyway? Nothing but buffoonery for young men who just want to be made fools of.”

      Ingrid snorted with amusement. “I have often thought that, too. How foolish they look, strutting around and puffing up their feathers like male peacocks.”

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