Ice

CHAPTER 27

Latitude 63° 48’ 11” N

Longitude 126° 02’ 38” W

Altitude 1108 ft.

Cassie was drowning. She clawed at her throat. She was a beached fish, drowning in air. She saw a shadow cross over her. Fighting, she focused on it.

It looked like a young Inuit man.

But that didn’t make any sense. She was alone, dying alone. Just her and her unborn, never-to-be-born child. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorry,” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut.

When she opened them again, the man was waiting silently on the rocks above her. Suddenly, she understood: He was waiting for her to die. “Munaqsri,” she rasped.

Startled, he lost his footing on the rocks. He skidded down a few feet before catching himself. Pebbles rolled into Cassie, and she flinched.

“You can see me! I thought you were…,” he said. “You know what I am?”

Yes, she knew. He was the human munaqsri. He was here to take her soul. Well, she wasn’t going to let him. He was a munaqsri; he could manipulate molecules. He could save her! “Heal me,” she demanded. She coughed. Blood speckled his pants leg.

He frowned at the blood and then at her. “If you know what I am, then you know I’m not here to heal you.”

She batted his ankle with a weak hand. “You can,” she said. He had the power. “Do it.”

Gently, he said, “I’m sorry, but you’re dying.”

“Not dying.” Not while he could save her. Straining to reach for him, she spat blood.

Leaning down, he touched her neck, feeling her pulse. “You must be especially determined.” He released her. “You need to let go. Your body is too damaged to heal itself, and you must be in tremendous pain.” He sounded almost kind. “I must take your soul now.”

She closed her eyes for the briefest of instants and then opened them again. She concentrated on his words as if they were bubbles she had to catch. Her vision swam. “Can’t have it.”

“Hey, now, we don’t want it drifting off beyond the ends of the earth.”

She thought of the polar bears, their unclaimed souls drifting off beyond the ends of the earth unless—she remembered the owl and the hare—unless another took them. Could she tempt the human munaqsri? “Know twenty-five thousand,” Cassie said.

He squatted on the rocks beside her. “What was that?”

More strongly, she said, “Twenty-five thousand unclaimed souls.” The effort made her gasp. She choked on air and started to shake.

Catching her shoulders, he steadied her. “Unclaimed? Did you say ‘unclaimed’? As in without a munaqsri?” She could hear the excitement in his voice.

She closed her eyes. “Can’t talk,” she whispered. “Dying.” Please, let this work!

“Twenty-five thousand souls.” He was almost shouting. “You said twenty-five thousand! Where? Who?”

She took a breath as if to speak, but then shuddered—the shudder was not feigned. Heal me! she silently begged.

She heard him swear, and then pain shot through her as he pressed down on her rib cage. Her torso tightened and her ribs squeezed. She felt as if the ceiling of the sky were collapsing inward and the earth were ripping upward. She screamed. And then suddenly, the pain was gone.

Surprised, Cassie cut off midscream. She sat up on the blood-soaked rocks. She felt as light as helium. She practiced breathing. Her ribs expanded and contracted evenly. She prodded them. She did not even feel bruised. She looked at herself, bloody and healthy. She ran her hands over her stomach. “Is my baby…”

“Of course,” he said, sounding offended. “I am a professional.”

A wave of relief rolled over her with an intensity that shocked her. Tears flooded her eyes, and she examined her skin so he wouldn’t notice. Thin pink lines showed where the rocks had pierced her. She flaked the dried blood off them. “Impressive work,” she said, struggling to sound calm. “Thank you.”

“We are not supposed to make exceptions, but for twenty-five thousand… With that many souls, I would never have another stillbirth.” She heard wonder in his voice.

She looked up at him for the first time without the haze of pain. The munaqsri was a thin Inuit man with a caterpillar-fuzz mustache. He looked young—maybe Jeremy’s age—but that didn’t mean anything with munaqsri. He had shaved his hair so short that his scalp was visible. He should have transplanted it to his upper lip instead, she thought. His sparse mustache (plus the khakis, shirt, and tie) made him look more like a kid at his first job interview than a caretaker of the human race.

“The souls,” he prompted. “Where are they?”

He had to be a new munaqsri. That would explain why he’d miscalculated and let her see him. She thought of stories of people who saw angels before they died. Perhaps more people saw munaqsri than anyone knew. “I can’t promise the souls will be unclaimed forever,” she cautioned. “Their munaqsri is out of his region, but he could come back at any time.”

“Is it likely?” he asked.

She grinned. “I have been told it’s impossible.” It was as impossible as a talking bear, as impossible as running hundreds of miles in minutes, as impossible as her being alive, as impossible as birth. Cassie hugged her stomach. “Ever heard of a castle that’s east of the sun and west of the moon?”

He shrugged. “If it were anyone’s region, it would be mine. I’m assigned all the obscure locations.”

Oh, wow, had she finally had a stroke of good luck? Cassie felt like singing.

“But it won’t become my region until a human has been born or has died there.” He scanned the trees. “Now that I think of it, this is the first time I have ever been here. Very nice.”

“Mmm,” she said noncommittally. If she had her way, she was never going to see another tree as long as she lived. “So you can’t go east of the sun now?” It had been too much to hope for. Not being dead was enough of a gift. Besides, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t reach the troll castle. Her grandfather could. The munaqsri helped her stand, and she dusted herself off. Dirt stuck to the caking blood. She looked like she had been in a train wreck, but she felt like she could race up a mountain. “Do you know the North Wind?”

“What does he have to do with the souls?”

“Do you know him?” she pressed.

“Only in passing.” He frowned, clearly unhappy with her change of subject.

“Could I get his attention from a mountain?”

“Twenty-five thousand souls, you said.”

Cassie took a deep breath and said in a rush, “Take me to a mountain, and I’ll tell you which species is missing its munaqsri.” She knew she was asking a lot. After all, he had already saved her life.

He scowled. “You’re trying to trick me.”

Cassie shook her head vehemently. “I promise I’ll tell you at the mountain.”

“You promised before.”

She glanced up at a gathering horde of chattering squirrels. Were they spies? “I’ve learned to be meticulous about promises to munaqsri. You assumed.”

“You’re going to destroy my reputation,” he said.

“You don’t have a reputation,” she said. “No one knows munaqsri exist.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “The other munaqsri… They talk. Most wouldn’t have saved you. But I need those souls… I hate being helpless at births.”

Cassie thought of how Bear had reacted when a cub had been stillborn. She’d picked the best possible enticement for a munaqsri, she realized. “Think what it will do to your reputation if the other munaqsri find out you saved me without learning about the souls,” she said. As if to emphasize her point, orange and gold leaves rustled. A lithe figure of twigs and leaves scurried across the branches. The human munaqsri glanced at the birch-man, and Cassie’s heart thumped in her throat. Quickly, she added, “But I wouldn’t worry about them finding out. No one will know but you, me, and the entire boreal forest of North America.”

“This is extortion,” he said.

“Pretty much, yes,” Cassie said. She tried to sound nonchalant. “Now, do you want those souls or not?” Please, say yes.

He laughed and held out his hand. “You are something,” he said. “I’ll warn you: I’m fast.”

Cassie took his hand. Her heart sang. “Trust me. I can handle it.” On healed feet, she climbed out of the streambed over her own bloodstains. Squirrels chittered insistently. She saw trees writhing up over the munaqsri’s shoulder. Bark melted together. She had to go now. The human munaqsri turned to look, and Cassie leaned heavily onto his hand to distract him. She saw a blur between the spruces and said, “Come on. Impress me.”

Flashing her a grin, the human munaqsri yanked her through the trees. Branches broke in rapid succession, sounding like a string of firecrackers. “Impressed?” he called back to her.

The trees were in motion behind them. “Not yet,” she said.

He increased speed. Spruces flashed within inches. She yelped as a branch whipped her ankle. “Ow!” With the munaqsri touching her, the gash healed instantly.

“Trust me!” he said.

“Keep my limbs attached!”

Swerving like a fighter jet, he flew through the forest. She felt wind rush over her ears, and she wondered what happened when a munaqsri made Mach 1. Now would be a great time to test it. “Faster!” she said. She could not see distinct trees now—only dark shadow flashes. Fallen leaves showered in cyclones behind the munaqsri and Cassie. Only then, at impossible, dangerous speeds, did she begin to feel safe.

He stopped suddenly, and she shot forward, catching herself before she hit the rock slope. The munaqsri steadied her, and she saw the mountain rising up in front of her. “You did it,” she breathed. She was on a mountainside above the tree line. She wanted to dance. Free of the forest!

“Twenty-five thousand,” he reminded her.

“No promises about the souls’ munaqsri,” she said. “He could return.” She wanted that clear. When Bear came back, she didn’t want this man who had saved her life to feel cheated. She owed him that much at least.

He nodded hurriedly. “Tell me.”

“Polar bears,” she said.

“Arctic is my territory!” He turned to face north, as eager as a greyhound poised to run. “You’re sure?”

Cassie smiled wryly. “I’d stake my life on it.”

“I thank you. Newborns thank you,” he said. “Good luck reaching the wind. What do you want with him anyway? He’s reported to be… difficult.”

“It’s personal.” Cassie shrugged as if it were a minor issue.

“Well, try not to kill yourself again. I won’t save you twice.”

“Understood,” she said, and glanced up the slope. Snow speckled it, and the peak was shrouded in clouds. Oh, my.

He patted her stomach. “See you again soon.” With a wink, he started across the mountain. She watched as each stride lengthened into ballerina leaps. She called after him, “Hey, do you have a name?”

He paused midstride. “I’m a munaqsri.”

“Before then,” she said. “Come on, I know you’re new.”

“It’s not supposed to be obvious.” His cheeks lit up in a blush. “It’s Jamie. Jamison Ieuk.”

“Very appropriate,” she said. Ieuk meant “man” in Inupiaq. It was no different from Bear asking to be called Bear. “I’m Cassie.”

He mimed tipping a hat. “Pleasure meeting you.”

“Pleasure being saved by you,” she said. She watched as he blurred into nothing. There was no trace of his passage. It was as if he had vanished. Cassie looked out across the vast forest of green, brown, and gold, and felt her heart soar. He had brought her hundreds of miles closer to Bear. Really, munaqsri were the only way to travel.

With the sun on her back, she was soon sweating. She kicked her bare toes into the loose gravel to keep her footing. Above her, Dall sheep perched on rocks as they grazed on white heather and saxifrage. She watched them leap from rock to rock.

“Show-offs,” she said. She waved her arms at them. “Clear the way!” Inside her, the baby punched as if in emphasis. She grinned and patted her stomach. It was odd—she felt like she had a teammate now. She wasn’t doing this alone anymore. Her baby was going to rescue its father. “Out of the way, sheep! Baby on board!”

The sheep scattered.

As the slope steepened, Cassie used her hands. She felt as agile as a giant tortoise. She placed each foot carefully and then steadied herself with handholds. Her abdomen grazed the rocks.

She felt the baby squirm. “I promise I will never make you climb a mountain again, if you behave yourself this time,” she said to her stomach. “Just stay in there awhile longer. Okay, kiddo?”

Grunting and panting, she clambered onto an outcropping. She rested on the ledge and cooled her face with crusted snow. Above the tree line, she could see across the valleys. Larches, leaves brilliant gold, shone like candles against the dark spruces. She wondered how high she’d have to climb for the North Wind to hear her. She held a hand out to feel the wind. “Wind munaqsri? Grandfather! Hello?”

No answer. She had to climb higher.

Cassie continued to inch up the mountainside. She repeated to herself with each step: You may not be able to climb this mountain, but you can make it one more foot. The sun passed behind the mountain, and she climbed, shivering, in shadows. She paused to call again with still no luck.

An hour later, the slope steepened. Continuing to climb, she jammed her fingers into a crack. Searching with her foot, she found a foothold. She pulled herself up. Feet braced, she reached for the outcropping. She stained the rocks with specks of blood from her scraped fingers. Swinging her leg up, she beached herself onto the ledge. Cassie leaned against the mountainside and panted. Below her, the trees were pick-up sticks and the wild sheep were dots on distant rocks.

High enough, she decided.

Back pressed against the mountain, Cassie got to her feet on the ledge. Wind whipped her hair into her face. She pushed it behind her ears, and she looked across the landscape. The height made her head spin. She could see hundreds of miles of forest. It stretched into the horizon. A flock of Canada geese flew beneath her. Pressing one hand on her stomach, she breathed deeply. She bet her baby would be born loving heights. Or with a deep-seated fear of them.

She closed her eyes to stop the dizziness. Time to see if it had been worth all the effort. Filling her lungs with wind, Cassie shouted, “North Wind! Grandfather!”

She felt wind on her face. It did not speak.

She shouted again: “I am Gail’s daughter! I need to talk to you!”

He was out there somewhere, she was certain. But where? Was he all the wind, or only a piece of it? She wished she’d asked Gail about her family. She knew nothing about the wind munaqsri, except the fact that they were her family and they oversaw the munaqsri of the air. She hoped that was enough. It had to be. “I’m your granddaughter! Please, answer me! Grandfather! Uncles! Wind!”

Cassie shouted until her throat was raw. “Answer me! Please!” She could feel the wind—her hair and skirt flapped, and snow and gravel tumbled down the mountain—so why didn’t he answer her? “Grandfather! Uncles! Munaqsri! I know you exist! Talk to me!”

Rock cracked. It split from the mountainside. She swallowed her scream as a chunk of rock collapsed inches from her outcropping. It tumbled, stirring other rocks. A mini-avalanche crashed down the side of the mountain. Shaken, she looked at where the rock had split.

A single eye stared at her.

It was an enormous eye. It looked like a curved, yellow mirror embedded in the rock. She saw her reflection, covered in dirt and blood, stomach bulging like a fun house distortion. She stared, transfixed. The eye blinked with an eyelid of granite that slid down like an avalanche and then up again. It was part of the mountain. Rocks were scales. Boulders were nostrils. She looked at the ledge behind her. She was clinging to its claws.

Open, the dragon’s mouth was a cavern. If he yawned, peaks would crumble. Dirt plumed as he spoke. “You called for a munaqsri.”

“I, uh, meant to call the wind munaqsri,” Cassie said. Judging from his six-foot eye, this munaqsri could have crushed the bowhead whale.

“You are wasting your breath shouting for my wind cousins,” he said. “They will not hear you. You are too earthbound to catch their interest.”

Now she learned this? After that climb? “What do I do?”

“Whatever you want.” The dragon shrugged. Snow and rocks sloughed off the slope. With a thunderous sound, the mass slid down the mountain. Cassie watched it cascade beneath her in a billowing cloud. Below, trees snapped like toothpicks.

Cassie swallowed. “Can you help me?”

His rock eyelid slid over his eye. She waited, but it did not reopen. It looked indistinguishable from the other rock faces again. “Um, excuse me?” Cassie said politely.

He did not answer.

“Mr. Mountain?”

No answer. She pressed her lips together. She had not come this far to be intimidated by a bunch of rocks with eyes… even very large dragon eyes. She—correction, they: Cassie and her baby—were not going to be dissuaded. She wasn’t alone in this. She drew courage from that. Steeling herself, Cassie thumped on his claw. “Answer me. Please. How do I get the winds’ attention?”

He opened one eye and regarded her with his giant pupil. “There is one way.”

“Tell me,” she said.

The dragon laughed. Rocks danced off the mountain. She flattened herself against the slope and covered her ears as the rocks crashed. “You won’t like it,” he said.

“Tell me how! I am not afraid!” She pounded his claw with her fist. “Tell me, dammit!” He fixed his great eye on her and said one word:

“Fall.”

CHAPTER 28

Latitude 63° 26’ 00” N

Longitude 130° 19’ 53” W

Altitude 4325 ft.

Cassie peeked over the edge. Fall?

On the mountainside, the rocks looked like rows of serrated knives. Automatically, her hands cradled her stomach. She’d already tumbled down a cliff once. “It’s not a vertical drop,” Cassie protested. “I’d roll down the mountain, not fall through the air. It won’t work.”

“I can fix that,” the dragon said. He shifted his weight. Beneath her ledge, the mountain crumbled. Avalanche! She clung to the dragon’s claw and screamed. The grinding stopped. Irritably, he said, “Please don’t scream.”

She inched to the edge and peered over. Wind whipped her hair against her cheek. Below her, the slope was gone. The mountain went straight down for a quarter mile. Cassie scrambled back against his claw. Her heart pounded fast. She was aware of how thin her skin felt and how breakable her bones were.

What’s wrong with me? she asked herself. Only a few months ago, she had dived into the Arctic Ocean. How was this any different? Looking over the edge again, she swallowed hard. The dragon’s tail, a string of granite, curled in the air. It was different. She wrapped her arms tighter around her stomach. Everything was different.

How far would she go for Bear? Where was the limit? Was there a limit? She wasn’t risking just herself anymore.

The baby kicked against her hands, and she felt her skin roll like an ocean wave. “Are you up for this?” she asked her stomach. Another kick. It felt as if the baby were urging her onward. Cassie smiled. How far would she go to give her baby its daddy? East of the sun and west of the moon, of course. “C’mon, kiddo,” she said. “Let’s go find your daddy.”

Cassie placed her toes on the lip of the ledge and looked out across the boreal forest. Wind whipped her hair so that it slapped her cheeks and forehead. She brushed it back. Her baby wouldn’t grow up like she had, missing a parent she’d never known. “Can you call the wind munaqsri?” she asked the dragon.

“You truly intend to do this?” For once, he did not sound condescending. He sounded curious. “What possible reason could you have for hurling your soft, tiny body from me?”

She had a hundred reasons: because Bear had carved a statue of her in the center of the topiary garden, because she could always make him laugh, because he’d let her return to the station, because he won at chess and lost at hockey, because he ran as fast as he could to polar bear births, because he had seal breath even as a human, because his hands were soft, because he was her Bear. “Because I want my husband back,” Cassie said. And, she added silently, because my baby deserves to know him.

“Please call the winds.”

“Very well,” he said.

And then the dragon roared to the sky. Wind whipped faster and faster around the mountain. Dust and rocks tumbled down the slope. Cassie shielded her face.

“Now!” the dragon cried.

Holding her stomach, Cassie jumped. Sound tore from her throat. “Grandfather! North Wind!” She plummeted down, spiraling through the sky. The green and gold swath of forest rushed toward her. “Wind munaqsri!” Air rushed past her as loud as a scream.

Suddenly, wind slammed into her from two directions. Squeezed, Cassie spurted up in the air. She arched over the dragon’s mountain and spun like a stray leaf, tossed by wind. Snowcapped mountains spiraled below her. Oh, she was going to vomit. “North Wind!” she cried.

“Poor child. She doesn’t know her north from her south.” A voice swirled around her, sweeping under her and beside her. It seemed to be coming from everywhere.

Streaks of cloud whipped past her. One of Gail’s uncles? “South Wind?” Cassie called.

“Let her fall.” A second voice rushed past Cassie’s ears. “She is nothing to us.”

Suddenly, she sank. She tried to scramble, to grab anything solid. Clouds slipped through her fingers as cool mist on her skin. “I’m your niece! I’m Gail’s daughter!” Below her, the Yukon River wound like a blue ribbon through the mountains—so tiny, so far down. “Please don’t drop me!” A gust rolled her, and she screamed as she tumbled through the air. Wind rushed past her ears as loud as her own scream.

“We must keep her, East,” the first voice—the South Wind—said.

Wind swept under her, and she was tossed up, up, up. “You can’t keep me!” she shouted. “You have to help me!”

“We cannot keep her,” the East Wind said, echoing her. “It was not right before; it is not right now.” The air began to blacken. Rain splattered on Cassie’s arm.

“But I want her!” the South Wind wailed like wind on the sea.

Cassie heard a crackle and saw a spark of white light jump from cloud to cloud. If they didn’t stop, she could be electrocuted. “Please!” Cassie shouted. “Uncles!”

“See!” the South Wind said. “Listen to her. She’s already family!”

“Yes, yes, I’m family! Gail’s daughter!” Cassie cried into the rising storm. “Stop it! Don’t storm! Please, stop!”

Instantly, the gray dispersed, and the breeze calmed to a whistle. “Did we hurt you?” the South Wind asked. “We don’t wish to hurt you. Your mother was our favorite child. We adored her.”

“She was a mistake,” the East Wind said.

Cassie bristled. “Excuse me?”

The South Wind said soothingly, “It’s an old argument. My brother did not approve of North’s adopting your mother.”

The East Wind growled like a rumble of thunder. “It was kidnapping.”

“Adoption,” the South Wind said.

“Kidnapping.”

In a reasonable tone, the South Wind said, “If Abigail did not love us, she would not have sent her daughter to live with us.”

Twisting in the air, Cassie tried to see the source of the voices. “I’m not here to live with you! I’m here to ask you to take me east of the sun and west of the moon!”

The air shuddered around her. “Oh, no, kitten. You cannot go there,” the South Wind said. “It is not a nice place. Not a nice place at all.”

“Not for living things,” the East Wind agreed.

“Besides,” the South Wind added, “it is too far. Much too far for us.” He sounded pleased. Streaks of cloud zipped past Cassie like silver minnows in a river.

“But you’re wind,” Cassie said. “Wind goes everywhere.”

“It’s beyond the ends of the world,” the East Wind said, and the sky darkened as he spoke. Deep gray stained the white clouds and spread.

Cassie felt a fat drop of rain hit her cheek. “The world is round. It doesn’t have ends,” she said. “Besides, Grandfather made it there. Can you take me to him?”

“Oh, kitten, you do not want to see him.”

“He has a temper,” the East Wind explained.

“Once, he was so angry he scattered us into hundreds of pieces all across the globe.” The air trembled. “It took us weeks to reassemble.”

He scattered his own brothers? She shivered. And these were the creatures that her mother had grown up with, that Gail had called family. “Just take me to him.”

“Absolutely not,” the South Wind said firmly. “He’ll tear you to bits.”

Cassie opened her mouth to argue, and her stomach squeezed. She clutched her stomach. Her baby! Not yet! She was so close to Bear! “For Gail’s sake, take me to him!”

“But…”

Her stomach loosened, and she sucked in air. “Please! If you cared about Gail at all, take me to the North Wind!”

In answer, wind rushed around her. Her skirt whipped and twisted around her legs. As she went spinning through clouds, she cradled her stomach.

“You may want to close your eyes,” the South Wind said to Cassie. “Some find this… distressing to their worldview.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Cassie said. “I married a talking bear.”

Enveloping her in empty air, the winds swept over the forest. She felt her stomach contract again as the two winds sandwiched her. She spun through the air like a pinwheel.

Clouds rocked underneath her, and she clenched her teeth, concentrating on not being sick. Faster and faster, she flew into the snow-toothed mountains. She slalomed between peaks. Veering close to one, the winds drove her toward the sheer face of the mountain glacier. “Watch it!” she yelled, and she sailed up the slope, bursting through clouds.

“We are here,” the South Wind whispered. As the winds slowed, Cassie saw a massive mountainside. A jagged cave cut open the side of the ice-coated mountain like a wound.

Snow spewed from the mouth of the North Wind’s cave as Cassie, carried by the two winds, flew toward it. Cold slammed into Cassie, and she catapulted backward through the air. She was caught in a sweep of wind as the North Wind roared: “BLAST YOU ALL. WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

Swirling around her, the South Wind whispered, “It is one of his bad days. Do you wish to leave now?” She felt the wind quivering. Tiny droplets of moisture beaded on Cassie’s skin.

She wanted to say yes, to run as far from this new monster as she could. “No,” she said. “This is what I came here to do. Bring me closer.” As the winds lowered her to the cave, she called, “North Wind, I need to talk to you! I’m Gail’s—”

“NEVER SPEAK HER NAME!” Howling, the North Wind tore out of his cave. He whipped around the peak at a hundred miles per hour. Mom called this monster “father”? Awed, Cassie watched boulders sail off the slope in showers of hail and ice. One of her uncles whimpered as the debris hit the mountainside in a mushroom cloud plume of dirt and ice. The crash sparked other rockfalls.

Far below, she heard a dragon roar as the avalanches cascaded. For an instant, hearing the dragon, the North Wind slowed. This was her chance. She thought of her mother rushing out of the station to protect her baby and her husband. If Mom could confront him for the sake of her family, then so could Cassie. She cupped her hands like a megaphone. “You have to take me east of the sun and west of the moon!”

“GO AWAY!”

“Now she’s done it,” she heard one of the winds whisper.

Hail hit her skin. Moaning, the winds huddled around her, suspended beside the mountain. She shielded her face. “Stop it!” Cassie cried.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“Like hell I will!” she shouted back. “You have to help me!”

“LEAVE ME TO MY MISERY!” Rattling the mountain, the North Wind dove into his cave. A glacier cracked. Thundering, it slid down the mountain.

“Push me closer,” Cassie told the winds.

“I do not think that would be a good idea,” the East Wind said.

Clouds swaddled her and thickened into gray. “Oh, no, kitten, no,” the South Wind said. The mountain faded from view. “Don’t ask this of us.”

“As a favor to Gail,” Cassie pleaded.

On the trembling breath of the winds, she rose to the opening of the cave. Closer, the resisting wind increased. She felt a contraction, as if the baby were protesting. Cassie shouted, “I’m your granddaughter!”

Abruptly, the North Wind deflated. Cassie barreled into the cave. She cycled for footing, and her toes brushed rocks. She landed like a shaky bird. Carefully, she straightened. In the corner of the cave, she saw a dark patch of swirling cloud. That was him—her breath quickened—her grandfather, Mom’s kidnapper, the one who had been responsible for her mother’s imprisonment and, indirectly, for Bear’s fate. She began to feel an old anger build up inside her, and she latched on to it. “Hello, Grandfather.”

The other winds bolted out of the cave.

“You come to torture me in my grief,” he said.

“Your grief! For my whole life, I had no mother!”

Wind pooled around her feet and breathed through her hair. “Oh, my poor, sweet Gail. Lost to the world. Lost!”

He was so caught up in his own self-pity that he didn’t even know his own daughter had been saved. “She’s home.”

“You lie!” He roared—air shot through the cave, and rocks tumbled. Pressing into a cleft in the cave wall, Cassie shielded her stomach from the wind. Her hair whipped her neck and her skirt pulled at her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut until the howling subsided into sobbing.

Her head throbbed, and her ears rang. She shook her head, and rocks rained out of her hair. “While you were busy feeling sorry for yourself, my husband sacrificed his freedom to save your daughter. He’s trapped at the troll castle right now! And it’s your fault. It all began with you. You are the worst parent—”

He moaned. “Cruel child. Leave me alone,” he pleaded. “Please.”

Gravel skittered, and cold air pricked her arms. “No, Grandfather,” she said. “I won’t.” She felt her stomach contract again, and she doubled over. The North Wind howled, but this time, it was a short storm. Tucked in the rock cleft, Cassie waited until both the contraction and the winds abated. “For my whole life, I thought my mother was dead,” she said. “My mother became a stranger to me because of you.”

“Please,” he begged. “Stop.”

Cassie hugged her stomach. She’d be a good parent, better than the North Wind, better than the North Wind’s daughter, better than Dad. She’d make sure her baby didn’t grow up missing a parent. “Good thing I didn’t learn about being family from you.”

“I love my daughter!”

Again, she felt her stomach squeeze, sending shudders down her legs. Leaning against the wall of the cave, she caught her breath. “Did you love her enough to respect her wishes, or did you blast her off the face of the earth for leaving you? If you really loved her, you would have let her choose her own life.”

He sobbed. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“You owe her,” Cassie said flatly. “You owe me. Take me east of the sun and west of the moon.”

“Granddaughter…”

More gently, Cassie said to the North Wind, “It’s not too late to make it right. Please, Grandfather, take me there.” She didn’t add, Before it is too late.

He hit her with gale-force winds.

CHAPTER 29

Latitude 63° 04’ 01” N

Longitude 151° 00’ 55” E

Altitude 16,573 ft.

Screaming, cassie tumbled like a rag doll out of the mouth of the North Wind’s cave. She spun head over heels. The other winds shrieked, and she whipped into a tornado spiral: She faced the sky, the ground, the sky, the ground. Boulders and debris spun with her. She was going to be pulverized. “Grandfather!”

The North Wind shot through the whirlwind of rocks and ice. Scooping her inside his muscles of rain, he skimmed over a snow-crested peak with inches to spare. In his wake, the peak toppled and a dragon roared. Cassie hurtled through the air. Bones rattling, she burst out of the mountain range.

Tracts of forest were mowed flat.

She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she was over the ocean. Her stomach seized. Waves were tossed forty feet into the air. Ships floundered. “Slow down! Please, slow down!” People were on those ships. He had to slow!

“Building momentum,” he said like thunder. Cassie slammed her hands to her ears, but her whole body shook from the vibration of the sound. She felt her stomach tighten and release, another contraction. Bile rose in her throat. She choked it down. He tore on and on.

The North Wind drooped, thinning into streaks. She slipped through the dissipating wind and clung to the empty air. Black water churned beneath Cassie, and she grasped for bits of cloud as they disintegrated around her. He sank so low that the crests of the waves dashed only inches below her.

“Are you afraid?” he whispered.

“No!” she said.

Her toes dipped into the ocean. She hissed, tucking her feet under her skirt. The torn hem trailed in the roiling waves. “How far?” she shouted. If he lost much more strength…

“There,” he said in barely a whisper. She squinted through the roaring gray to see a massive shadow, a smudge on the horizon, then it was swallowed by the storm. Hungry waves licked her legs. She kicked at the water.

Without warning, her legs plunged into the ocean. “Grandfather!” He pushed in a burst, and she skimmed fast along the wild surface. When she looked up next from the churning depths, blackened rocks raced toward her, and the mountainous shadow blocked the sky. Waves broke around her, and he heaved her onto the shore.

She slammed down into the breakers, slicing her knees on the rocks. Waves crashed into her neck. Salt water in her face, she crawled, choking, up onto the rocky shore. She hoisted herself onto a boulder. Shivering and shaking, she stroked her stomach. “I’m sorry, kiddo. You all right in there?”

One wave crashed into her, knocking her sideways. She spat salt water as she clambered out of the swells. Slick seaweed coated the rocks, and another wave crashed into her legs before she managed to pull herself up to the first tree. Black and leafless as if burned, it did not seem to be alive. Shivering uncontrollably, she clung to it. “Grandfather, are you okay?”

The whole sky looked bruised. He stirred the sea, and she felt the wind. She took that to be a reply: He was alive. She pushed her hair out of her face. “Are we here?” she asked. Sea, wind-flung, sprayed her, as if in answer, and she flinched. “All right, all right.” She turned.

Black as basalt, the troll castle loomed over the shore like a nightmare.

“Oh, God,” she breathed. Suddenly, she was more afraid than she had been diving into the frigid ocean, hanging from Father Forest’s ceiling, or falling from a dragon. She stared up at the monstrosity. It loomed over her, frighteningly silent.

Using the trees, she climbed toward the castle. Branches creaked and then cracked. Seaweed oozed between her toes. As she reached for the wall, her stomach tightened like a fist—hard. She doubled over, and for one terrible instant she thought, The baby is coming now.

Sweat popped out on her forehead as she strangled the nearest tree. She whispered to her stomach, “Be good, and I swear I will never again storm a castle while pregnant.” For an instant, her eyes blurred, pricked with tears, as her insides squeezed.

Her breathing was as loud as the crashing waves. As the contraction passed, she realized that the waves and her breathing were the only sounds on the rock island. There were no gulls in the sky and no voices in the castle. It was as if the island were dead. “Please, Bear,” she said. “Be all right.” She put her hand on the damp wall. After all the miles, only a wall stood between them—the wall and the trolls, who were somewhere inside. She gulped. She could do this. She’d come so far. She wasn’t going to be stopped now.

She tilted her head back. The wall rose incredibly high. She saw no windows or doors, only shadowed arrow slits. “Scaling the wall is out,” she said, forcing lightness into her voice. She patted her stomach. “I know you wanted to.” The crash of waves on the rocks swallowed her words and left her feeling even more small and alone. Holding the wall for balance, she started around the perimeter.

Storm clouds filled the sky, and it felt as if the world were hovering between day and night. She moved in and out of shadows as she made her way across the slippery rocks. In eerie semidarkness, she rounded the first corner.

Glistening with sea spray, the second wall could have been a mirror image of the first. It stretched unbroken to the end of the island. Black rocks led down to the sea. The same twisted, lifeless trees protruded from cracks between the rocks. Cassie felt her stomach tighten again—the contraction stealing her breath—and she waited it out, leaning against the chilled wall. Her skin cringed from her cold, wet clothes. When the pain subsided, she hurried across the rocks and turned the second corner. The third wall was also featureless stone. Three walls, no doors. She scrambled over the rocks and turned the third and final corner.

The castle had no door.

She leaned against the stone and wanted to cry. Cheek pressed to stone, she banged on the wall. “Hello? Let me in. Open up, damn you! Please, open.”

Her stomach squeezed, and she bent over it with a groan. Bent, she saw the rock melt inward into the shape of a door. Surprise overwhelmed pain. She turned her head sideways. Instead of standing beside black basalt, she was standing beside a wooden door. How… Magic, she answered herself. She thought of Bear’s castle.

She laid her hand flat on the door—warm and dry, it was untouched by sea spray—and pushed. She heard it clink, latched shut. She tried the latch. It rattled loosely in her hand.

Cassie examined the wood. It was half-rotted pine and looked brittle. She wondered if she could break it down. She licked her lips. Throwing her body against a door, rotten or not… Did she have a better idea? If her contractions got much worse…

Cradling her stomach protectively, she rammed her shoulder into the door. It creaked. She backed up and bashed it again. She felt herself bruising, but the door did not break. She smashed into it again.

Cassie rubbed her shoulder. All she was doing was tenderizing her arm. After everything, to be stopped by a door… The thought made her feel ill. It couldn’t end now, not like this.

She rattled the handle. Owen used to fix the station shed door all the time. She wished he were here with his tools. Squatting, she poked the wood around the handle. She bent sideways and felt for a rock. Rocks, unlike doors, were not in short supply. Finding a hand-size one, she held it like a mallet and hammered above the latch. It thudded dully, as if the air around the castle sucked sound. Behind her, in rhythm, waves pounded on the rocks. After pushing her hair behind her ears, she struck harder.

She felt the door weaken. She whacked it with all her strength, and the wood splintered. Cassie dropped the rock and pried pieces of wood away from the latch. She wormed her fingers through the widened hole, and her fingertips brushed the handle. She jiggled it. Wedging her hand in farther, she groped for the crosspiece of the latch itself.

“Yes,” she exulted. She flicked it and heard it swing off its hook. Scraping skin, she yanked her hand out of the hole and shoved the door open.

From the doorway, a rectangle of light fell onto the stone floor. Cassie stepped into it. She peered into the darkness. It was complete blackness—no contours, no shadows. Her heart thudded faster and she forced herself to stay calm. Wishing for her flashlight, she stepped out of the rectangle.

Behind her, the light dimmed, and a voice said, “No one ever tries to break in.”

Cassie bolted for the door. Her hands slapped solid stone. She pounded on the wall, but the door had vanished. Dammit, it’s a trap. She should have realized it. The materializing door had been too convenient. She pressed her back against the wall and strained to see or hear the troll. The room was as dark and as quiet as outer space. Her own breathing thundered. “Where are you?” she said. “Who are you?”

Without warning, the walls brightened like sheets of fluorescent bulbs. Sterile and white as a hospital, the room blazed. Cassie’s eyes teared. She squinted, looking for the troll, but the room was blindingly empty. “You aren’t a new one,” the voice said from nowhere. “You’re alive.”

“And I intend to stay that way.” Wishing she had some way to defend herself, she spun in a circle to see the whole room. “Show yourself.”

In the center of the room, sparking out of nothing, a flame danced. Cassie had expected a Cro-Magnon man with horns and fangs. Somehow, this flame was worse. Pulsing red and orange, it ballooned into a writhing jellyfish. Red spread into pink, and the pink jellyfish sprouted tentacles. The tentacles thickened into arms and legs that stretched like rubber bands. It budded a head.

Cassie flattened against the wall. Oh, that was not human. “What are you?”

The thing appeared taller than Cassie because its… she hesitated to call them “feet”… did not touch the floor. It hovered six inches above. Translucent, it shone like the blinding walls. Still shifting shape, it began to look somewhat like a woman.

The pseudo-woman’s skin rolled like water. Her face mushed into four noses, then smushed into one. Cassie swallowed, feeling queasy. “Can you… please pick a face?” She tried to sound casual, but her voice was shaking so hard that she half-squeaked the last word. She hoped the pseudo-woman hadn’t noticed.

Blue spread over her skin, and the creature drooped. Purple tears poured from blank eyes. “Easy for you,” she said. “You were born.” Her tears ground valleys in her cheeks, and then were absorbed into her neck. Soon, her face was concave.

Cassie had to look away. “What are you?”

“You would call me a troll.”

Cassie glanced back to see orange blooming on the troll’s throat. The orange swirled like a giant kaleidoscope, and within seconds, the rash covered her entire body.

“What are you?” the troll asked.

“Uh, human,” Cassie said.

The troll dismissed her. “We have no need for humans.” Spikes poked out of the troll’s skin. They flashed as they multiplied.

Wishing she felt braver in the face of this creature, Cassie said, “I’ve come to free my husband.”

“You are Cassie?” She softened her spikes like a deflating puffer fish. “You are the munaqsri’s Cassie?”

Cassie shivered. “You know me?” How did a troll know her name?

“Oh, yes.” The troll smiled, and her mouth slid to her ear. She looked like a garish Picasso woman, plus drooping spikes. “He has mentioned you.”

Bear had talked about her—to the troll? What did it mean? It meant Bear was alive. She felt her heart thumping like timpani. “He has? To you? Who are you?”

“I am the troll princess.”

Cassie froze. “You married my husband.”

“Of course.” She sprouted feathers on her spikes. Blossoming over her body, translucent feathers clothed her in seconds. “It was the bargain.”

Cassie wanted to leap at her—she’d taken Bear! — but her stomach seized. She doubled over, hissing. Dammit, they were getting worse. She puffed until it passed. Straightening, she said, “Bargain’s over. I’m bringing him home.”

“Oh, no, we’re not finished with him.”

Cassie didn’t like the sound of that. It sounded like… Her heart pounded, and her hands shook. “You hurt one inch of his fur…”

The troll princess laughed. “You are a funny thing. So lively.”

“I want to see him. Now.”

“We have no need for you to see him,” the princess said. Cassie felt cool wind on her back and heard waves crash. She glanced behind her. The wooden door now stood open. “You can leave. We don’t need you.” The troll princess waved her feathered tentacles at the open door. “Go on, it is no trick. I promise you are free to leave. You can trust me—it is a magic promise.”

“Not without Bear. Promise me he can leave.”

“I told you, we need him.”

“For what?”

Feathers combined into cilia. “He has to cooperate. The queen is disappointed in him. She had such high hopes for a munaqsri.”

“You’d free him if he cooperated?” Could it be that simple? Meet their demands and then Bear could go free?

“You could convince him!” the troll said. Excited, the cilia waved. She shimmered in the white light. “Yes, he would listen to his Cassie.”

Cassie didn’t trust the troll. It couldn’t be something good if Bear was refusing. She thought of the mermaid Sedna saying, No one knows what trolls want. “What won’t he do?”

“He won’t make me a baby.”

For an instant, Cassie felt as if her heart had stopped.

CHAPTER 30

Latitude indeterminate

Longitude indeterminate

Altitude indeterminate

The troll princess melted the walls. Retreating to the center of the room, Cassie tried to tell herself that this place was no different from Bear’s ice castle and that the troll princess was no more inhuman than the winds, but it felt different. The troll pushed her jellied tentacles against another white wall, and it dissolved like a sugar cobweb. The castle itself was an illusion of earthliness.

Thick smoke poured into the room. “Do not be afraid,” the troll princess said, and blinked with three eyes. A fourth blossomed on her forehead.

The smoke pressed on Cassie’s skin like fabric, curling around her. She batted at her arms. Covered in clouds, the troll princess repeated, “Do not be afraid. We won’t hurt you.”

It wasn’t smoke, Cassie realized, it was trolls. The air was thick with trolls. In the squirming cloud, she saw traces of eyes and teeth, fur and feathers, arms and tentacles. Strobelike color flashed, like a surreal discotheque, and she panicked. “Don’t touch me!” She slapped at them. It felt like pushing through rain. She realized she had felt this waterair before—when the trolls had taken Bear, back before the castle had melted.

Hundreds of trolls pressed their flimsy forms against her, only to dissipate like mist. She thought of her mother, imprisoned here for years, and knew it was hopeless to have come here without a clear plan. She wanted to screech like the aspen. Bear was almost in reach. She couldn’t have come so far only to fail.

“Follow me,” the troll princess said. Through the wispy shapes, she shone iridescent. She bobbed like a floating Japanese lantern.

Gritting her teeth, Cassie elbowed trolls out of her way. The trolls melted, as insubstantial as ghosts, as soundless as wisps of cloud. It was an eerie silence. The only sound was her own breathing. The trolls did not breathe. Shuddering, she hugged her stomach. Her uncles had been right: This was no place for living things. All her instincts were screaming at her to run away, but she kept going, deeper into the trolls.

Her heart sank as she followed the princess farther into the castle and through more and more trolls. Who was she to think she could go up against this—whatever “this” was? She was just a human. She didn’t have any magic.

Her stomach squeezed, and she had to stop. Clutching her stomach, she panted. Trolls swarmed her. She felt their light, damp touch on her neck and on her face. Colors teased the corners of her eyes.

Trolls thinned in front of her, and Cassie pushed sweat-streaked hair out of her eyes. She was standing before a dais of basalt. Filling the dais was the troll queen. Unlike the wisps all around her, the troll queen seemed as solid as a granite mountain. A thousand eyes coated her body like rivets.

Cassie straightened her shoulders and tried to stare back into the queen’s splintered gaze. She hadn’t let Father Forest or the winds see her fear; she wasn’t going to let this queen see it either. Even if her rescue mission was doomed.

In unison, the eyes blinked. “We have no need for another human,” the queen said in a voice like a hive of bees. “Why have you brought her to us?”

The troll princess floated to the dais. She was now a purple orb with a distorted humanesque face. She whispered to the queen.

With her thousand eyes, the queen scrutinized Cassie. “Interesting.” She closed half her eyes, and those eyes hardened into silver plates.

Cassie lifted her chin and summoned her courage. This was what it had all been for—all for this moment. She would face down a troll queen. She would not take no for an answer. She would wring Bear out of her, if she had to. “I’m here for my husband. And you cannot stop me.”

“Very well,” the queen said.

Cassie’s jaw dropped open. “Excuse me?” She must have misheard, or at least misunderstood. “You’ll let me… He’s free to go?”

“Convince him to make my daughter a baby, and he is free.”

Cassie opened and shut her mouth. “Can I talk to him?”

“Of course,” the queen said.

Cassie’s head spun. All he had to do was sleep with the troll princess, and he would be free? She bit her lip. Had he refused because he loved Cassie too much, or had he refused because he had not loved Cassie enough?

All around her, the trolls rustled. It sounded like wind in autumn leaves.

Out of the trolls, Bear came. Soundless, his paws padded on the stone. Cassie dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. Her knees shook. Two feet in front of her, he stopped. His black eyes were unfathomable.

Cassie could not speak. She stretched her fingertips and touched his muzzle. His fur was as soft as she remembered. She buried her hand in his pelt. He nuzzled her hair. She threw her arms around his broad neck. “Good to see you, Your Royal Ursine Highness,” she whispered.

“You came for me.”

“Just in the area,” she said. “Thought I’d say hello.”

Bear dipped his head to Cassie’s abdomen. He pressed his furry face to it. Cassie stroked his ears. “He… she… is moving,” Bear said. He looked at her. “Can you forgive me?”

Cassie swallowed a lump in her throat. “Yes. You?”

“Yes,” he said.

She smiled, and then she hugged her stomach again as a contraction robbed her breath.

“My bears should have taken care of you,” he said, concern in his voice.

When she could breathe again, she answered, “They did.” It seemed like years ago that she’d been on the ice.

“Good,” he said. They were silent for a moment. Cassie wished she could find words—there was so much she had wanted to say. As she’d crossed the ice, the tundra, and the forest, she’d imagined this moment over and over, but this wasn’t how she’d pictured it, with thousands of trolls looking on.

“I missed you,” he said simply.

She flushed and looked down at her pregnant self, speckled with blood and dirt. “Hardly the movie star rescuer.”

“You are beautiful,” he said.

She snorted.

“You have a beautiful soul.”

“Nice euphemism.”

“On an island of trolls, it is a compliment.”

She glanced over at the troll queen. Spikes sprouted from her head and tail, outgrowths of the eye plates. “So,” Cassie said conversationally, “is she going to skewer us?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

He touched her cheek with his wet nose and whispered in her ear, “Tell me the plan. I am ready.”

She wanted to cry. So close! “Find the castle, find Bear… That’s as far as I got. You have any ideas?”

“I cannot do as they ask. It is not possible,” he said. “They have no bodies. Otherwise, I would have been home to you in an instant.” Home to you—the words sounded like music.

Of course, he couldn’t impregnate a woman who had no body. He couldn’t even magic her molecules—she had no molecules. “Besides, I’d be jealous.” Her voice caught again.

“She cannot help us,” the troll queen said. Cassie gripped his fur—no! She could not be losing him again. The troll princess drooped blue, and the queen stretched a tentacle to stroke her, as if to comfort her. It moved through the princess’s body as if through water. She retracted the tentacle, and for an instant she was translucent. The queen, Cassie realized, was as shapeless as the other trolls. Bear was right—none of them had bodies. It was all an illusion. The queen’s eyes fixed back on Cassie. Pulsing orange now, she said, “Remove the human. We have no need of her.”

The trolls descended on them. “No!” Cassie shouted. Hundreds of trolls slid between Cassie and Bear and, crowbarlike, wedged them apart. She couldn’t lose him a second time! “No, stop! Please!”

Bear was shouting too. She fought against the trolls. Each one she pushed back was replaced by a dozen more. It was like fighting ocean waves. Trolls flowed into her.

Her stomach contracted, and for a second, Cassie lost ground. “No! Please, anything you want! Bargain with me! Anything!”

“No, Cassie! Save yourself!”

She shouted at the queen, “Tell me: What do you want?”

Surrounded by shadowy shapes, the queen writhed on the dais. “Life,” she hissed. Instinctively, Cassie clutched her stomach.

“Do not do it!” Bear said.

“You have life?” Wingless, the queen rose into the air. “You have life in you?”

What did that have to do with anything? Cassie looked down at her stomach and thought of her long journey here—it had to do with everything.

“No, Cassie!” Bear snapped his teeth and swiped with his claws, but the trolls still blocked him.

She’d do what she had to do to save her Bear. That’s what she’d done all along, all for him. Wasn’t it? With her arms wrapped around her stomach, she looked at her love and wondered—had she done it for him, or for herself?

The troll queen, body spreading like ink, flew above her. “We will keep you, then, and we will have your child!” she exulted.

Cassie felt the damp touch of trolls on her stomach. She swung her hand out to ward them off and struck only empty air. “Your princess promised my freedom!”

The troll princess shrank into a ball. “I didn’t know!” she wailed.

Growing like some mythical god, the queen filled the cavernous room. The trolls thickened around Cassie and Bear. Through wisps of gray, the queen throbbed orange and green. “Your baby for your king. It is our bargain.”

Cassie looked down at her bulging stomach. Here was her chance for the two things she’d wanted when she’d begun this journey: her Bear and no baby. Except that it was not that simple. It hadn’t been that simple for a while now. “There must be something else you want,” she said.

“We make no other offer,” the queen said.

Cassie stroked her stomach and almost felt dйjа vu, though it wasn’t her memory she was feeling. She knew this moment. This had been her mother’s choice when she’d faced down the North Wind. This had been her father’s choice when he’d honored Gail’s sacrifice and stayed with the newborn Cassie. Cassie hadn’t understood it before. She hadn’t understood them. But she did now—the horrible frustration her father must have felt, having to make that choice, this choice. All at once, she forgave him; she forgave them both. How could she give up her baby? But how could she lose Bear? She needed him. She loved him.

“Do not do it, Cassie,” he said. “Leave me. Please, I beg you.” She heard the words: If you love me, let me go.

She loved him enough to leave all she had ever known, to turn her world upside down, to come to this place beyond all known places, to risk her life, to almost die.

Did she love him enough to let him go?

Yes, she did.

The queen pulsed brighter. “What is your answer?”

Bowing her head, Cassie said a single word: “No.”

CHAPTER 31

Latitude indeterminate

Longitude indeterminate

Altitude indeterminate

Hissing, the trolls rolled over them. One troll was a drop of water, but hundreds of thousands were a tidal wave. More trolls flooded between Cassie and Bear. No, wait! She wasn’t ready yet! She hadn’t said good-bye.

Bear blurred behind trolls as if underwater. Muscles straining, he pushed at the tide. Cassie skidded backward. “At least let me say good-bye! Please!” She heard him call her name, and the trolls hissed louder. “Bear, I love you!” she yelled. Could he hear her? Please, let him have heard her. He’d never heard her say it. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” For everything! she wanted to say—for not trusting him, for endangering their baby, and most of all for failing to rescue him. She had proved to be her father’s daughter to the end. She had found her limit, the line she would not cross, the cliff she would not leap off. Bear was now a white smudge behind the gray shadows. “Bear!”

Her stomach seized.

For an instant, she lost her breath, and the trolls swept her up. She sailed backward and rammed into a wall. Her face smushed sideways against stone. “You’re crushing me!” Crushing the baby!

The walls melted, and Cassie spilled into the white room. Catching her balance, she ran toward the throne room, but the troll princess sealed the wall shut again with a word, separating Cassie from the other trolls and from Bear. Shouting, Cassie pounded on the wall until another contraction crushed the breath out of her. She felt wet run down her inner thighs. “Oh, no. God, no,” she said. “Not now. Not here.” Not without Bear. Not stranded on a troll island.

A pulsing orb, the troll princess said, “You truly have life in you?”

“Let me out of here,” Cassie said. “Make the door appear.” She had to get to her grandfather. He had to take her home.

The troll princess floated across the room and said, “Open,” the magic word. The stone melted into the wooden door. Battered, it hung open, and Cassie heard the crash of waves. She bolted outside.

Sea air hit her face. “Grandfather!”

Black clouds swarmed.

“Grandfather, help me.” She doubled over as another contraction racked through her. Walking made the contractions worse. “Grandfather!” she screamed.

Fascinated, the troll princess oozed over the rocks. “Is this pain?”

Cassie slipped on seaweed as another contraction snatched her breath. She caught herself on a tree. Her arms and legs shook. “Please, Grandfather!”

He did not answer, or he did not hear. Wordless, the wind stirred the sea, and swells smashed into the shore.

The troll princess asked, “What is it like to feel pain?”

She had to keep calm. Calm. Calm. Cassie took deep breaths.

The princess sighed. “I wish I could feel pain.”

Another contraction followed fast on the heels of the last. This was not a false alarm; she knew it. “Bear!” Breaking waves drowned her cry.

Contractions crashed on top of each other like a relentless sea storm. Cassie gasped for air. She flailed with pain. Her hands hit the rocks. She did not feel them. She yelled like an animal.

She didn’t know how long it lasted—hours, minutes, days. Contractions came and went. She was caught inside them. The world outside her body ceased to exist. She couldn’t think of a time before this and couldn’t imagine a time after. It was just the pain, the rocks, and the sea. And then, like in the eye of a storm, the pain eased, and Cassie needed to push. She spread her skirt and squatted. Push. Veins jumped out on her neck, and sweat popped out on her forehead. Her lungs whooshed. Push. She was exploding. She wanted to climb out of her skin. It hurt to push, and it hurt not to push. She felt herself stretching. She would burst. More than anything, she wanted the baby out. She pushed.

A nervous-looking man perched on the rocks.

Cassie saw him. “Jamie! Help me!”

The troll princess darted behind him. He did not see her. “Are you all right?”

With clenched teeth, she said, “Catch the baby.”

Jamie inched backward. “But…”

“Please!”

Gulping, Jamie knelt beside her on the rocks. “I can see the top of its head!” He looked up at Cassie. “It has hair.”

She inhaled. “Soul ready?”

“No one has died today. I have no souls,” he said. “I’m sorry, but it will be stillborn.”

She had to push now. She resisted. “Like hell it will!”

“I told you, I am short on souls.”

Pain hit. “Take mine!”

“Munaqsri don’t kill.”

She had to push! She howled. Her whole body wanted the baby out of her. But she would not let it. Not without a soul. “I want my baby!”

At Cassie’s yell, the princess floated in closer.

“What is that?” Jamie scrambled back across the rocks.

Lifting her sweating head, Cassie looked at the troll princess. She was a troll from east of the sun and west of the moon, which was, Cassie had been told again and again, beyond the ends of the earth, where no living thing ever went.

The phrase tickled a memory: Is that what you want me to do? Let their souls drift beyond the ends of the earth? Beyond the ends of the earth? Here?

Yes, here. On an island of trolls… Trolls have no shape, no physical bodies, Gail had said. It’s an island of wild spirits. An island of wild spirits… an island of trolls… beyond the ends of the earth. Not for living things. Nothing living ever goes there. In a flash, Cassie understood: Trolls were souls. He won’t make me a baby, the troll princess had said. It is not possible, Bear had said. They have no bodies. The troll princess didn’t want to have a baby; she wanted to be a baby. “Here’s your chance,” she said to the troll princess. “You want to live?”

The princess flashed gold and silver. “You mean…”

What do you want? she’d asked the troll queen. Life, the queen had answered. “Yes or no,” Cassie said. “Do you want to live?”

The troll princess brightened like an exploding star.

“Yes!”

“Take her!” Cassie shouted, and pushed.

Jamie stared at her.

“She’s a soul!” Cassie pointed at the troll princess.

The troll princess flew into Jamie’s hands.

Cassie felt underneath her. She felt a head, as soft as a seal’s, and she cradled it in the palms of her hands. Yelling, she pushed one final time. She felt the baby slip into her hands, and she caught it, hands under its back.

“It’s not breathing,” the human munaqsri said. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second, and then he slid his fingers between the umbilical cord and the baby’s tiny chest. He eased the cord over the baby’s shoulder and then he produced a knife and cut the cord. The baby took its first breath. Pink spread from its chest outward.

Jamie helped her lift the baby, and she held her child close. Its skin was as slippery as egg yolk. She felt it squirm.

“It’s a girl,” Jamie said.

Cassie looked down, and beautiful blue eyes blinked up at her. “Oh, my,” was all she could say. Transfixed, she stared at the miniature hands and the perfect round cheeks. The baby squinched up her little face and wailed as loud as the wind.

“She takes after her mother,” Jamie noted.

Cassie laughed. Sweaty hair falling forward, she kissed her baby’s head. The baby smelled as sweet as rain. “You came out of me,” she whispered, cradling her baby girl.

She smiled down at her beautiful baby, cooing as the waves crashed onto the shore. She felt lighter than air. “You think you’re magic,” she said to Jamie. “Look at her. She’s real magic.”

“She’s beautiful,” Jamie said. Cassie glanced over at him and saw his cheeks were moist. “What are you going to name her?” he asked.

She didn’t have to think about it. “Abigail.” Her mother’s name. Above them, the sky swirled. Cassie wondered if the North Wind had heard her. “Abby for short.” She gazed down at baby Abby, red and sticky and perfect in her arms. “Think she will remember?”

He shook his head. “Do you remember before you were born?”

“You got your wish,” she said to the baby. “You are alive.” Cassie’s smile became beatific. She looked up at the human munaqsri. “Got another minute? I have an idea.”

Cassie cradled her baby against her chest as the trolls swarmed over them. “Munaqsri,” she heard the trolls hiss as they encountered Jamie. He was, she guessed, the reason they were allowing her to return. He was new. “Munaqsri. Munaqsri.”

Jamie peeled trolls from his skin. “They’re everywhere!”

The walls melted around them. “Stay with me,” she said. She marched through the horde of trolls with Jamie in her wake.

The troll queen hulked over her dais. Cassie stopped, trolls hovering in a semicircle around her, and cradled the baby against her. A thousand eyes blinked at her. This time, she was not afraid.

Jamie fell out of the press of trolls. He saw the queen. “Who is she?” Colors spread in a rainbow flare across the queen’s broad back.

“She is a soul,” Cassie said, not taking her eyes off the queen. “Aren’t you? You are the unclaimed souls, the ones munaqsri missed.” The baby squirmed in her arms.

Tentacles sprouted on the troll queen. “New life!” She reached with a half-dozen writhing tentacles toward baby Abby.

Sounding nervous, Jamie murmured, “Uh, Cassie.”

The tip of a tentacle brushed within inches of the baby’s head. “We made no promise to the baby,” the queen said. “We will keep it. Munaqsri and newborn both.”

Cassie held her baby tight but didn’t move. “I know why you kept my mother, why you bargained with my husband, why you want my baby. You want them to help you be alive, like you were supposed to be.”

Trolls whispered like leaves.

“I’m right, aren’t I,” she said. “You want to be alive.”

“Yes,” the queen hissed.

Cassie smiled down at her baby. Her red hair brushed the baby’s tiny hands. Baby Abby gurgled. “Her soul was the troll princess.”

All color drained from the queen.

The trolls erupted.

Jamie ducked as the trolls whipped in a frenzied tornado around them. Cassie planted her feet on the ground, baby in her arms, and waited.

The queen shrieked, “Make us live!”

Startled, Abby cried. “Shh,” Cassie said as she rocked the baby. “Don’t shout,” she said to the queen.

“Please,” the queen whispered.

She took a deep breath. “Promise to release Bear.”

“Promised!”

Her knees wobbled. She’d done it! But she wasn’t finished yet. Cassie glanced at Jamie, who was on the floor with his arms over his head. “And promise to take no more prisoners.”

The queen soared up to the ceiling. “Promised!”

Cassie’s heart soared. Done, and done! She felt as if a bell had sounded deep within her, thrumming through her rib cage and over her skin. She’d done it. Mom was safe now. No more nightmares. Cassie felt giddy. “Anything else?” She asked Jamie.

“It would be nice if they would stop dive-bombing me.” He batted away trolls as he stood.

Cassie laughed. “You take twenty-five thousand souls, in place of the polar bears. Go on. Take them.”

Jamie obeyed, and the trolls who surrounded him now leaped onto him. They compressed like wisps of cotton in his arms. Thousands swarmed him, but the mass didn’t thin. She wondered how many trolls there were. She may have found herself a lifetime task, she thought.

“And the remainder of us?” the queen asked, watching.

She thought of Fluffy the arctic fox and the mermaid Sedna. They’d helped, even if not quite in the way they’d meant to. “I owe a few favors. I’ll find you homes.” She smiled. What a way to save the whales. “I promise.”

“Done and promised!” the queen sang.

And then Bear walked out of the chaos of swirling trolls, and Cassie stepped forward. Bear paced toward her, and the mist of a thousand trolls melted around him. He halted in front of her, and his black eyes drank her in. The trolls whipped in iridescent spirals over their heads.

For a long moment, Cassie and Bear simply stared at each other. She felt as if every cell in her body were singing, as if she were going to burst out of her skin.

He touched the tiny head of their baby with his nose. “She is beautiful,” he said.

All Cassie could do was nod.

Eyes shining, he looked at Cassie. “My Cassie, my tuvaaqan.”

Trolls whirled around them, thickening into a wind. “I told you I would find you,” she said. “I said I’d free you.”

“I will never doubt you again,” he said. He leaned his cheek against hers, and she closed her eyes and felt the warm fur soft on her face. “Shall we go home, beloved?” he asked.

She smiled. “Yes,” she said.

Cassie then looked at the queen, who signaled to the trolls. Swirling faster, the trolls rushed beneath Cassie and Bear and lifted them into the air. Below, Jamie waved as the castle melted around them. Gray clouds swept alongside them as they skimmed over the black rocks of the island and above the waves of the sea.

With her new daughter in her arms, Cassie curled against Bear. Gently, he wrapped his front paws around her and baby Abby.

Together, carried by lost souls, they flew home.