Free North Child by Edith Pattou

taking a gulp of slank on an empty stomach. “Show me,” I said eagerly in his language.
    And there came a surprised look on his face. “Have you been ill? Your voice is…” he started but stopped.
    After that I didn’t speak again, but I began to understand about throwing and catching the thing he called a ball.
    â€œI hope you didn’t think I was teasing you,” he said. I didn’t understand the word teasing, but he went on. “Your voice is fine,” he said. Still I kept silent, and we continued to throw the ball, back and forth.
    Then I heard the sound of someone calling, and he said he had to go, that his servants were looking for him but perhaps we could play again another time.
    I watched him run down the mountain towards a large building. He moved quickly, with grace.
    When I went back Urda was searching for me, still groggy from her nap. I told her I had taken a walk. I decided I wouldn’t tell her about the boy. The next day I would make her take me there again. And I would make sure she drank even more.

The white bear headed due south of the farm, keeping to the woods and away from the places where people lived.
    It was a frosty, clear night, and the stars shimmered against a black sky. Usually, looking up at the stars on such a clear night filled me with a breathless pleasure, no matter how often I gazed at them. But that night I was hardly aware that there was a sky.
    Riding a bear was nothing like riding a horse. First of all, the bear was far larger, and I could not ride with both legs straddling his back, the way one does with a horse. At first I didn’t move at all but stayed frozen in the position I had been in when I had landed on the broad back – sort of a crouch, my legs tucked under me. When he first began to move, I instinctively grabbed hold of the great ruff of fur at the back of his neck to keep from sliding off.
    But after a few hours I grew stiff. I had the feeling we would be travelling for a long time, so I got bolder and began to shift my body, trying to find a comfortable position. I finally settled with one leg dangling down and the other bent under me. I didn’t need to use my legs to hold on. Despite his enormous speed, the white bear’s gait was surprisingly smooth and his back so broad that as long as I kept a firm hold on his thick fur, I was in no danger of falling off.
    The white bear’s fur was extraordinary. It was as soft as rabbit’s fur, yet much thicker and longer. When I burrowed my hands into it – which I only worked up the courage to do after we had been riding a long time and my fingers were numb with cold – my hands and forearms disappeared up to my elbows. And the fur was so warm. It took only moments for my fingers to thaw. My legs, too, stayed warm, nestled in the deep fur.
    But the rest of me – my face and upper body – was cold, and I was very glad of my cloak. I thought of Neddy finding pins and carefully lining up the torn edges, and my eyes blurred with tears. Better not to think about Neddy.
    I thought instead of the beast upon which I was riding. I remembered the imaginary companion of my childhood. How many times had I imagined myself riding a magnificent white bear through the night?
    He moved faster than I would have thought possible for such a large animal, and by daybreak we had journeyed far, into country I had never seen before. The land was heavily forested; there were fewer and fewer evergreens, more broad-leaved trees. We were still heading south.
    Though the journey lasted seven days, the white bear stopped only once.
    During that time I must have been in some kind of trance – or maybe it was an enchantment or spell. For those seven days I neither ate nor drank, nor slept. The strangest thing was that I didn’t feel any different, except extremely aware and alert. It all seemed very natural; I was drinking it all in – the vivid greens of unfamiliar