Free East by Edith Pattou Page A

motion, I felt dizzy at the lack of it. There was a ringing in my ears. My stomach growled and my throat was dry.
    The white bear knelt as he had when I'd said goodbye to Neddy, and I sensed he wanted me to dismount (if indeed that is what you call getting off a bear's back). I was even more awkward than before; going seven days with no food or sleep had left me weak. And though I didn't exactly fall off as I had on the sandy shore, I still wound up on my backside.
    The bear stepped away. I heard a low rumbling from his throat, and even some faint words, but I couldn't make them out. And then there was a soft whooshing, and a piece of the mountain suddenly swung aside, as if it were a great earthen doorway. An entryway into the mountain lay open, and inside, a muted light flickered.
    "Come," said the white bear.
    I gingerly got to my feet, swayed a moment, then stumbled forward, my eyes fastened on the warm light within.
    The bear let me go first, walking just behind me. If I hadn't been concentrating on putting one foot before the other without collapsing entirely, I might have been very frightened. As it was, I made it through the entryway and the next thing I was aware of was a delicious aroma, as of a great stewpot of juicy meat and vegetables simmering on a fire. My mouth watered; I let out a groan and forgot entirely about being afraid.
    "This way," the bear said, and I followed, my nose telling me that he was leading us to the source of the smell.
    We traveled down a long hall, past several rooms, and I got a fleeting impression of browns and golds, antlers on the wall and fur rugs on the floor. It reminded me of descriptions I had heard of a wealthy person's hunting lodge. Except it was bigger, as big as I imagined a castle would be.
    At last we came to a room with a large fireplace and a great long table, which was laid out with various shapes and sizes of dishes, some covered with cloths. And in the fireplace was hanging a large black stewpot, the source of the wondrous aroma.
    I stood still, swaying slightly as I stared at the pot, when I heard the white bear's voice. "Eat," he said, and then he left the room.
    I made my way as fast as my limbs would carry me to the fireplace, took up a bowl, and ladled steaming stew into it. I crouched there by the hearth and spooned the tender chunks of meat and vegetables into my mouth. When the bowl was empty, I filled it again and then staggered over to the table and fell into a chair.
    I emptied that bowl, too, with the aid of a great hunk of melting-soft bread I had found in a cloth-covered basket. I peeked under a few more of the crisp white cloths and found baked apples in pastry, and strawberries, and rich, thick cream, and all sorts of delicious cakes. Tempting though it was, I was suddenly exhausted and could barely keep my eyes open. I ate a few bites of a small piece of yellow butter-cake with blackberry preserves in the center, and drank half a cup of fresh frothy milk. There was a large dark-red velvet couch not too far from the hearth, and I sank down upon it, my stomach uncomfortably full. I thought about the white bear, wondering uneasily where he was at that moment, and then I fell asleep.

Troll Queen
    E VEN THOUGH I WAS little more than a child when I wrote in my Book about the green lands and about the softskin boy, I could see ahead to what I had to do.
     
I am very angry at Father. We are leaving tomorrow and he will not let me take the boy with me as my servant. He says we cannot take children. And especially not this boy, because of who he is—he is important to the people in the green lands, Father says, like I am in the Huldre land.
Father is king and must be obeyed. For now. But already my arts are close to being the equal of his, and soon I will have my way. I will come back to this place and find the boy, and then he will be mine.

White Bear
Here.
After so long waiting.
Her purple eyes.
Torn cloak.
Skin pale, sheer as ice.
Exhausted.
But