Dec 12th, The Promise, Part 12


The wind seemed to come at us from all sides. No matter where you turned it hit you in the face, in the back, made you fall to the side. It was so strong we´d had to tie ourselves to the sleds. It felt like ice whipping your face every time a gust picked up. Still it felt somewhat normal, like exactly what you´d expect at a place like this called The Upper Glacier.

Wizard waved at us to turn a bit more left, towards the rocks we could barely see through the blizzard.

Poor little Jake was so small that any sudden shift in wind would wipe him all the way back down to the lake, so he´d been tucked in deep under blankets and cushions in a soft cave of his own. In my mind I could hear him really curious about where we were, what we saw, how it felt, when we´d get there and on and on and on.

Owl and Raven sat on the handles of the sled.

As soon as we turned in direction of the rocks the wind seemed to die down a bit. We were protected by the reclining glacier and those four beautiful giants of granite.

”Holy moly not so holy night”. Hawk came to life, shaking his head and wings. He´d been travelling on Wizard´s sled. ”What a whooping welcome by the glacier! I guess we ain´t climbing any tops to skip through Ursa Major tonight then!”

”You never know, you never know, you just know when you know which is why you never need to guess”, Raven croaked his way.

Right then and there the wind seemed to cease whining and started singing instead. Gently, puffing almost. The sound of a crackling log fire, of violins coming out of a crevasse in between the granite giants. A flute. The tunes of ”What Child Is This” was welcoming us. A guitar added to the chorus. Wow.

We tied up the sleds and moved towards the music, all of us. Huskies, Samoyeds, Shibas, Wolves, Raven, Hawk, Fox, Owl, Jake, Wizard and myself.

The light from the open fire and candles shone through the opening. In there the Cold Mountain Trolls, The Higher Silver Alves had prepared a feast. Long wodden and stone tables, plenty of bowls for the fourleggeds, high branches for the winged ones, silver blankets for all travellers. What a welcome!

– Cecilia Götherström, December 12th 2018

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