wearing long, billowing tunics and matching trousers. The couple had obviously been doing the week’s grocery shopping. There were bags hanging off the snowmobile’s every surface.
‘Hey, didn’t you see me waving?’ She felt irritated. Did people have no manners down here? ‘I’m lost. I need to get back to the Hatcher Pass.’
The man shrugged. ‘You’re on Old Believer land,’ he said simply.
She wanted to say that right now she didn’t care if she was on Kiss-My-Ass land, but held back. ‘I need directions to my vehicle.’
The man looked momentarily surprised, but then he flipped his head in the direction he and his companion had just come from. ‘If you can’t make out your own tracks, then follow ours,’ he said. ‘Was that your snowmachine down there on the track?’
Snowmachines. That’s what they called them down here in the south, in Alaska. Where Edie was from, you saw a snowmobile withno one on it, you didn’t just ride by, you stopped to make sure no one was in trouble.
‘You always this helpful?’
The man sucked his teeth disapprovingly. ‘The concerns of the worldly are no concerns of ours,’ he said, then glancing back at the woman sitting behind him he seemed to relent a little. ‘We don’t appreciate outsiders trespassing on our land is all. If I were you, I wouldn’t be fixing to come up this way again any time soon.’
With that, he let go of the brake, flipped his visor and swung on the throttle. The snowmobile began sliding forward and Edie watched the two travellers disappear into the gloom of the forest, then she turned and followed the man’s instructions, keeping their snowmobile tracks in view to her left. A while later a gap in the trees signalled the position of the road back into town and in the distance she caught a glimpse of her vehicle.
Relieved, she began to walk towards it. Where the tracks finally gave out onto the packed snow of the path, not far from the snowmobile, she spotted a bright yellow object lying at the base of a spruce, protected from the snowfall by the tree’s branches, slightly to one side of the pass itself. The thought occurred to her that something had been thrown from the couple’s snowmobile. Straying from the track a little, she wandered over to take a look.
Closer up she was surprised to see that the yellow object was a tiny wood-plank house of the sort you might make for a small dog, about a yard long and half as wide, with a sloping roof and solid sides. The front was decorated with ornate shapes, and there was a door, fastened shut with a crude wooden lever.
Edie looked around. A very thin layer of snow had collected on the roof, but there was none banked up against the sides, suggesting that the house had been there since the last snowfall, but most likely not much longer. There were no animal or human trackseither around or leading up to it. The little house sat as though it had always been there in the snow, as though it belonged to some other reality and there were tiny fairies living inside.
All thoughts of getting back for the Iditarod had gone from her head. She called out, having no sense of who or what might answer, but there was only silence. Reaching the house, she crouched down and with her right hand turned the lever on the little door. She could see something inside, though it was too dark to see what. Her first thought was to draw out whatever it was, but something stopped her. The spirit bear came to mind, the power of its quiet, ghostly pallor. She was struck suddenly by the realization that it was the bear who had led her here, that the spirits had sent their messenger to draw her to this very place.
She went back to the snowmobile, took her flashlight out of the pannier, trudged back to the house and opened the door once more. The light revealed a package, wrapped in a very elaborately embroidered red cloth. Edie reached out carefully and touched it. The cloth itself was crisp without being frozen hard.
‘Hey, didn’t you see me waving?’ She felt irritated. Did people have no manners down here? ‘I’m lost. I need to get back to the Hatcher Pass.’
The man shrugged. ‘You’re on Old Believer land,’ he said simply.
She wanted to say that right now she didn’t care if she was on Kiss-My-Ass land, but held back. ‘I need directions to my vehicle.’
The man looked momentarily surprised, but then he flipped his head in the direction he and his companion had just come from. ‘If you can’t make out your own tracks, then follow ours,’ he said. ‘Was that your snowmachine down there on the track?’
Snowmachines. That’s what they called them down here in the south, in Alaska. Where Edie was from, you saw a snowmobile withno one on it, you didn’t just ride by, you stopped to make sure no one was in trouble.
‘You always this helpful?’
The man sucked his teeth disapprovingly. ‘The concerns of the worldly are no concerns of ours,’ he said, then glancing back at the woman sitting behind him he seemed to relent a little. ‘We don’t appreciate outsiders trespassing on our land is all. If I were you, I wouldn’t be fixing to come up this way again any time soon.’
With that, he let go of the brake, flipped his visor and swung on the throttle. The snowmobile began sliding forward and Edie watched the two travellers disappear into the gloom of the forest, then she turned and followed the man’s instructions, keeping their snowmobile tracks in view to her left. A while later a gap in the trees signalled the position of the road back into town and in the distance she caught a glimpse of her vehicle.
Relieved, she began to walk towards it. Where the tracks finally gave out onto the packed snow of the path, not far from the snowmobile, she spotted a bright yellow object lying at the base of a spruce, protected from the snowfall by the tree’s branches, slightly to one side of the pass itself. The thought occurred to her that something had been thrown from the couple’s snowmobile. Straying from the track a little, she wandered over to take a look.
Closer up she was surprised to see that the yellow object was a tiny wood-plank house of the sort you might make for a small dog, about a yard long and half as wide, with a sloping roof and solid sides. The front was decorated with ornate shapes, and there was a door, fastened shut with a crude wooden lever.
Edie looked around. A very thin layer of snow had collected on the roof, but there was none banked up against the sides, suggesting that the house had been there since the last snowfall, but most likely not much longer. There were no animal or human trackseither around or leading up to it. The little house sat as though it had always been there in the snow, as though it belonged to some other reality and there were tiny fairies living inside.
All thoughts of getting back for the Iditarod had gone from her head. She called out, having no sense of who or what might answer, but there was only silence. Reaching the house, she crouched down and with her right hand turned the lever on the little door. She could see something inside, though it was too dark to see what. Her first thought was to draw out whatever it was, but something stopped her. The spirit bear came to mind, the power of its quiet, ghostly pallor. She was struck suddenly by the realization that it was the bear who had led her here, that the spirits had sent their messenger to draw her to this very place.
She went back to the snowmobile, took her flashlight out of the pannier, trudged back to the house and opened the door once more. The light revealed a package, wrapped in a very elaborately embroidered red cloth. Edie reached out carefully and touched it. The cloth itself was crisp without being frozen hard.
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