My eyes are shut tight, and I’m colder than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m a bit disorientated, but someone is calling my name. For one bizarre moment I think it’s Griff. But then I start remembering where I am and suddenly I’m hoping it’s Lars’s friendly face I’ll see when I open my eyes. Maybe he came looking for me? I slowly open my eyes and see a big reddish-blond beard like a lion and a fur hat with ear flaps. My heart sinks. It’s not Lars.
His face is like thunder. ‘You could have been killed! My dogs could have been killed!’ I hear him growl. ‘You should’ve slowed down. I knew you were too tired. It’s too much for a beginner!’
‘Where are the dogs?’ I manage, trying to lift myself onto my elbows in the thick, powdery snow. A large dollop falls from the tree I’ve run into and hits me square in the face. I brush it away, leaving my lips and eyelids feeling numb.
‘Actually . . . you saved my dogs,’ I hear him say. ‘You clung on,’ and then, to my surprise, ‘Well done.’ He nods, and I’m suddenly wondering if this is the same Björn who has scowled at me from the moment I arrived, making me feel like some extra burden on his journey.
He heaves me to my feet, nearly pulling me over again with his strength. ‘This should be easier through the forest now. Slower. Take it easy. We’re nearly at the place where we’ll stop for the night.’
‘Like I say, I’ve done tough times before. I know about clinging on to what’s important.’ I brush myself down, as if brushing off his compliment. I think I was more comfortable when we were a necessary obstacle and irritation in each other’s lives.
‘Here.’ He nods towards my dog team, which he’s obviously lassoed and tied to a tree. His team are similarly tied up too. ‘You okay to carry on?’
I look at the team. I’m still as terrified as before. Every bit of me aches and all I really want to do is curl up in a ball under a duvet and cry. But I can’t. Even if I wanted to, the tears wouldn’t come. They never do.
‘Just stay behind me,’ Björn says. ‘There’s a cabin not far away from here. We’ll stay there the night.’
‘A cabin?’
He nods and I can’t ask any of the questions I want to.
‘If you’d prefer, I can hook the teams up together and you can ride on the sled.’
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll carry on.’ I’ve come this far. I’m determined to make it to the cabin. With shaking hands, I get back on the sled.
‘Keep your brake on,’ he calls to me as he unties the lasso. ‘You did well back there. You remembered to hang onto your team.’ He waves the lasso at me. ‘Always make sure they’re secured. They’re not like pets. When they want to go, they’ll run and run.’ I nod, standing heavily on the brake, or as heavily as my shaking knees will allow.
The reindeer have stopped and are milling around, snuffling in the snow and reaching into the trees branches, tugging at them.
‘They’re looking for lichen,’ Björn tells me. ‘It grows on the ground and the trees here.’ He points to a clump that two reindeer are both reaching for. ‘This is why they come down from the mountains in the winter, for the lichen. He unties his own team. ‘Ready?’
I nod.
‘Sure?’ he checks again, dipping his head. I nod again, more firmly, despite my shaking body. I just want to get to the cabin. The stubbornness in me won’t let me give up, despite desperately wanting to admit that I’m terrified. But I can’t do it. I can’t give in and ask for help.
‘It’s not far,’ he says, as if reading my mind. ‘Let’s go. Hike, hike!’ he calls to his team, at the same time instructing his collies to round up the reindeer and move them on.
I follow right behind him on a path leading through the forest. It’s quieter here, less windy. It’s like a blanket has been wrapped around us. The dogs are travelling more slowly, and I suspect that Björn is doing this deliberately. The two collies work hard to keep the herd moving and together, darting around them.
‘We call these dogs Lapp dogs,’ Björn says over his shoulder, his words reaching me through the swoosh of sleds over the snow and the clicking sound, which is much louder here in the forest. It takes me a while to understand the joke, my brain fuddled by cold and exhaustion. But finally I get it – because we’re in Lapland . . . Lapp dogs! And a tiny smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
‘Here!’ Björn finally points to a little wooden cabin in amongst the trees. I’m torn between utter relief and unbelievable disappointment. It really is just a cabin. But I’m so happy to be at the end of our day’s journey, I don’t care any more. He pulls up his dogs, jumps off, puts a stake in the ground behind him and then goes to the front of the team and ties a rope from the central line to a tree. My team pull up alongside his. I step on the brake hard, ecstatic and exhausted all at the same time.
‘You did it!’ He turns to me, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s actually smiling – well, not frowning anyway. And to my surprise, I find myself smiling back, though even that takes effort.
‘I did it,’ I agree quietly. I look up at the darkening sky and say louder, ‘I did it!’ and find myself jumping off the sled with a sudden rush of adrenalin and triumphantly punching the air with utter exhilaration. We’re here! The day has finally come to an end. I’ve made it. Shutting my eyes, I revel in the moment, until I hear Björn shouting too.
‘Nej! Sluta! Whoa!’
I turn quickly to see my team leaping forward, picking up pace and shooting off down the forest path . . . without me! Arms flailing, I try and launch myself through the thick snow towards the disappearing sled, but it’s no good. I can’t catch them. They’re gone. All triumphant feelings completely dissolved and utter devastation setting in, I turn slowly to see Björn’s glowering face. I didn’t think today could get any worse, but it just did. Now what am I going to do?