Stepping outside the lavvu the next morning is how I’d imagine it would feel to step into an industrial freezer and shut the door, then have a hairdryer set to cold blow in your face. My cheeks and nose are instantly freezing. Even my teeth are cold!
‘Come on, we have a long way to go today,’ Björn says, handing me the dog bowls to hold as he puts the frozen feed into them and pours on boiling water. Once they have cooled, we hand them out to the excited dogs – me at arm’s length – who jump about in excitement at the prospect of a new day and a new adventure.
Back in the lavvu, he takes out a pan and begins to fry up leftover fish from last night. My taste buds immediately start watering. Then he toasts bread on the glowing orange and white embers of the fire, and its comforting smell fills the air.
I pull off my poncho and coat and sit down. The heat from the fire immediately warms me, but the atmosphere between us is still frosty, and we eat in silence. I savour the flavours of the smoky fish, my heart in my boots about the prospect of going outside again.
‘Okay, let’s get moving,’ he says when we have finished. ‘We’ll load up, take down the lavvu and then get the dogs ready.’
I nod and do as instructed.
I look out at the sea of antlers. Okay. Get your reindeer, he says. But which one is he?
Björn looks at me with an air of disappointment, like a teacher who’s told a pupil to do something and then sighs when it doesn’t happen. He stands and marches towards me in the deep snow.
‘There, that one.’ He points to a reindeer standing patiently by a tree, reaching for lichen.
Now that I see him, of course it’s Rocky. I pull the lichen down and put it on the ground for him, and he seems to sense my low spirits, standing still while I harness him up.
‘Now let’s get moving.’
‘Of course,’ I say through chattering teeth.
Despite Rocky doing all the walking, my legs are numb with cold and feel like jelly standing on the back of the sleigh. Ice is forming on my lashes, and even my eyeballs feel frozen. It’s eerily quiet. Just the clicking of the reindeer’s ankles.
We stop for a break. Fika! Björn makes coffee and hands me home-made cake from a Tupperware box. It’s sweet and syrupy.
‘You need to keep your strength up out here,’ he says.
‘Is your helper on their way yet?’ I ask as I eat the cake and drink the coffee.
He shrugs. ‘I hope so. The more hands we have, the quicker we’ll get there.’
And the quicker I can get to the farm and collect the rings. Or, maybe as soon as the help turns up, and we see a town, I’ll make my excuses and go and find a phone and ring Lars to come and get me and wait at the hotel after all.
Björn checks the dogs, giving extra attention as usual to his lead dog, speaking to him in soft, hushed tones. It’s amazing that he has such a way with animals but not with humans – well, not me at any rate.
He stands, listens, then looks around at the trees.
‘Do you hear something?’ I ask, seeing the look on his face. He scans the trees again, then turns back to me.
‘Out here, we respect the forest. We don’t disturb what is living here and in turn they will respect us and leave us alone.’
‘When you say what’s living here, what do you mean? What is it?’
He looks at me as if wondering whether to say more. Then he points.
‘You see there, those tracks?’ and I do see them.
‘Wolverine,’ he says, and my blood runs even colder, if that is possible. ‘We have to keep moving.’ I don’t need telling twice.
There’s a noise behind us and we both turn to look. There’s nothing there. It comes again, but it’s just snow falling from the branches of a tree in big clumps with a thud. Not a wolverine, thank God.
‘We must push on.’ Björn’s face is set. ‘The mild weather means the snow is softening. The ice on the river will be starting to melt in places. We need to get there and get over it by the time the light goes, or we’ll never make it.’
He checks that we have left nothing behind, then calls to Florá and Erik to start rounding up the herd. And despite the coffee, my mouth is as dry as the desert. I’m terrified of what’s hiding behind us in the woods, and terrified of the melting river ahead.
‘Björn?’ I call to him.
He turns to me.
‘What if the river is starting to thaw? What happens?’
‘We will have to change our route. It could put days on the journey.’
‘But I . . .’ I don’t have days to spare. ‘The wedding is on Saturday! I know you might not think it’s important, but it is to the people getting married, and to me, for my job, my life really. I have to get there.’
He nods, checking that I’m ready to go, and I nod back. However much my legs ache, I know we have to make it to the river, and across it, today.