help you find your grandmother’s house.”
“Mor-Mor?”
“No, Far-Mor. My mother. In Godastor.”
Godastor was a small settlement on the other side of the mountain. Linnea had no idea how to get there. But the map would tell her.
Her mother gave her a little knapsack stuffed with food, and a quick hug. She shoved something deep in the pocket of Linnea’s coat and said, “Now go! Before it comes!”
“Good-bye, Mor and Far,” Linnea had said formally, and bowed.
Then she’d left.
So it was that Linnea found herself walking up a long, snowy slope, straight up the side of the mountain. It was tiring work, but she was a dutiful little girl. The weather was harsh, but whenever she started getting cold, she just turned up the temperature of her coat. At the top of the slope she came across a path, barely wide enough for one person, and so she followed it onward. It did not occur to her that this might be one of the roads her father had warned her against. She did not wonder at the fact that it was completely bare of snow.
After a while, though, Linnea began to grow tired. So she took off her knapsack and dropped it in the snow alongside the trail and started to walk away.
“Wait!” the knapsack said. “You’ve left me behind.”
Linnea stopped. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But you’re too heavy for me to carry.”
“If you can’t carry me,” said the knapsack, “then I’ll have to walk.”
So it did.
On she went, followed by the knapsack, until she came to a fork in the trail. One way went upward and the other down. Linnea looked from one to the other. She had no idea which to take.
“Why don’t you get out the map?” her knapsack suggested.
So she did.
Carefully, so as not to tear, the map unfolded. Contour lines squirmed across its surface as it located itself. Blue stream-lines ran downhill. Black roads and stitched red trails went where they would. “We’re here,” said the map, placing a pinprick light at its center. “Where would you like to go?”
“To Far-Mor,” Linnea said. “She’s in Godastor.”
“That’s a long way. Do you know how to read maps?”
“No.”
“Then take the road to the right. Whenever you come across another road, take me out and I’ll tell you which way to go.”
On Linnea went, until she could go no further, and sat down in the snow beside the road. “Get up,” the knapsack said. “You have to keep on going.” The muffled voice of the map, which Linnea had stuffed back into the knapsack, said, “Keep straight on. Don’t stop now.”
“Be silent, both of you,” Linnea said, and of course they obeyed. She pulled off her mittens and went through her pockets to see if she’d remembered to bring any toys. She hadn’t, but in the course of looking she found the object her mother had thrust into her coat.
It was a dala horse.
Dala horses came in all sizes, but this one was small. They were carved out of wood and painted bright colors with a harness of flowers. Linnea’s horse was red; she had often seen it resting on a high shelf in her parents’ house. Dala horses were very old. They came from the time of the Coffin People who lived long ago, before the time of the Strange Folk. The Coffin People and the Strange Folk were all gone now. Now there were only Swedes.
Linnea moved the dala horse up and down, as if it were running. “Hello, little horse,” she said.
“Hello,” said the dala horse. “Are you in trouble?”
Linnea thought. “I don’t know,” she admitted at last.
“Then most likely you are. You mustn’t sit in the snow like that, you know. You’ll burn out your coat’s batteries.”
“But I’m bored. There’s nothing to do.”
“I’ll teach you a song. But first you have to stand up.”
A little sulkily, Linnea did so. Up the darkening road she went again, followed by the knapsack. Together she and the dala horse sang:
The shadows were getting longer and the depths of the woods to either side turned black. Birch trees stood out in the gloom like thin white ghosts. Linnea was beginning to stumble with weariness when she saw a light ahead. At first she thought it was a house, but as she got closer, it became apparent it was a campfire.
There was a dark form slumped by the fire. For a second, Linnea was afraid he was a troll. Then she saw that he wore human clothing and realized that he was a Norwegian or possibly a Dane. So she started to run toward him.
At the sound of her feet on the road, the man leaped up. “Who’s there?” he cried. “Stay back—I’ve got a cudgel!”
Linnea stopped. “It’s only me,” she said.
The man crouched a little, trying to see into the darkness beyond his campfire. “Step closer,” he said. And then, when she obeyed, “What are you?”
“I’m just a little girl.”
“Closer!” the man commanded. When Linnea stood within the circle of firelight, he said, “Is there anybody else with you?”
“No, I’m all alone.”
Unexpectedly, the man threw his head back and laughed. “Oh god!” he said. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, I was so afraid! For a moment there I thought you were… well, never mind.” He threw his stick into the fire. “What’s that behind you?”
“I’m her knapsack,” the knapsack said.
“And I’m her map,” a softer voice said.
“Well, don’t just lurk there in the darkness. Stand by your mistress.” When he had been obeyed, the man seized Linnea by the shoulders. He had more hair and beard than anyone she had ever seen, and his face was rough and red. “My name is Gunther, and I’m a dangerous man, so if I give you an order, don’t even think of disobeying me. I walked here from Finland, across the Gulf of Bothnia. That’s a long, long way on a very dangerous bridge, and there are not many men alive today who could do that.”
Linnea nodded, though she was not sure she understood.
“You’re a Swede. You know nothing. You have no idea what the world is like. You haven’t… tasted its possibilities. You’ve never let your fantasies eat your living brain.” Linnea couldn’t make any sense out of what Gunther was saying. She thought he must have forgotten she was a little girl. “You stayed here and led ordinary lives while the rest of us…” His eyes were wild. “I’ve seen horrible things. Horrible, horrible things.” He shook Linnea angrily. “I’ve done horrible things as well. Remember that!”
“I’m hungry,” Linnea said. She was. She was so hungry her stomach hurt.
Gunther stared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. Then he seemed to dwindle a little and all the anger went out of him. “Well… let’s see what’s in your knapsack. C’mere, little fellow.”
The knapsack trotted to Gunther’s side. He rummaged within and removed all the food Linnea’s mother had put in it. Then he started eating.
“Hey!” Linnea said. “That’s mine!”
