“How did you happen to go to work for them?” She was using her stave to dig into the snow and propel herself along.
“I left home after an awkward stay and struck out on my own. When I got tired of walking, the first few weeks I slept in the open, and luckily nothing happened. But then I came to a farm. I snuck into their barn that night, and early morning Kustaa—the father—found me.” I sighed softly, remembering that morning.
“What did he do?” Howl asked. “By the way, you do know that I am known by the name Aatu in Finland?”
It was my turn to smile at him. “Yes, I know, great and noble wolf. You are not just Aatu, but the Aatu. Anyway, when Kustaa found me, he asked who I was. I picked out a name, Iris—that was my favorite flower—and gave him that.”
Camille stopped in her tracks. “Your name wasn’t Iris all along?”
I shook my head, deciding I might as well tell her the truth. “No, my name was Pirkitta, but I was afraid that my reputation might have filtered down from the Northlands. News from the temples often did. So I picked my favorite flower, and then when I came over to the States, I used the Western form for it.”
“So how did you go about working for the Kuusis after they caught you hiding in the barn?” Smoky paused by a tree that had fallen across the path and, with a nod from me, lifted me over it like he might lift a baby out of a crib. He did the same for Camille, then lightly leapt over the trunk.
Smoky had traded in his trademark ankle-length white trench for an ankle-length white fur cape that billowed around him. Rozurial was wearing a black fur cape, and beneath these they wore their elfin cloaks. I had my cloak over my parka, and Camille wore hers over her robe made out of the black unicorn hide.
When we were all on the other side of the deadfall, I answered. “I told Kustaa that I needed a job, that I had lost my family in a tragedy and was on my own. He recognized that I was a house sprite and offered me a place in his family, helping his wife with the children and gardens. He had such a kind demeanor . . .”
I closed my eyes, remembering his gentle voice that seemed so out of place against his gruff exterior. “I couldn’t help but say yes. They had ten children, and his wife’s parents were living with them, and a maiden sister and an unwed brother.”
“That’s a lot of work,” Camille said.
“Oh, it was, but they treated me fairly and never raised a hand to me. Kustaa and the men would go hunting for weeks at a time, while the women watched the home fires. I was used to hard work from the temple—we had to shoulder our own weight there as well as learn all our magic, so it was no stretch to help out the Kuusis. And so I stayed.”
“You became part of their family,” Roz said, a gentle smile on his lips.
“Yes, and had I wed there and had children, we would be bound as a family to them. That’s the way it works when you belong to one of the house sprite races. We love helping out, we’re homey folk in general.”
“You stayed for a long time, Mistress Iris.” Howl glanced at me. I hadn’t realized he’d been listening and felt slightly self-conscious.
“I did. As time wore on, the children grew. One of the daughters wed, and her husband moved into the house, and they raised their children there . . . and I stayed on after Kustaa and his wife died. I stayed for over four hundred years until the last of their line passed.”
Camille bit her lip, looking like she wanted to cry. “When did you leave?”
“I left in 1875, after burying Kustaa’s many-times-over great-granddaughter. She’d died unmarried, the last of her line who had stayed in the village. There are others of the family, no doubt, but long scattered. I buried her in the family plot, and then I took the money that she had left, and a few treasures, and I left the door unlocked for anyone who might need a home, and I walked away.”
I remembered that day—I had felt both free, and sad. Sad to see a family come to the end. Sad to say good-bye to the sturdy house I’d lived in for four hundred years—a house I’d helped rebuild and renovate time and time again.
“From there I traveled to Spain and caught a boat to London, and from there I immigrated to Canada. I stayed in what’s now British Columbia for over ninety years. In 1970, I began to feel a pull—as if I had to pick up and move again. And so I came to Seattle and settled in, living as one of the little people—the FBH little people. And then the portals opened and I was able to come out of the closet. And I met you.”
I glanced up at Camille and smiled, my eyes teary. So many things had passed through the years, but I was barely entering the prime of my life as far as my people went. I was still young and considered pretty, even though so much had passed through my life. My hair had long ago grown back and I kept it ankle length, every night brushing the golden strands a hundred strokes and then braiding it up into long coils. I’d kept a good figure, and Bruce—my leprechaun boyfriend—wanted to marry me and have children.
Which is why I’m here, I thought. Bruce needs to have children to continue his family name. I can’t give him that until I break the curse.
Camille dropped to her knees beside me and pulled me into her arms. “I wish you hadn’t had such a hard life. I wish you’d been able to stay in the temple—but then I wouldn’t know you and that would be my biggest regret.”
“I know,” I said, softly, patting her back. “But truly, the Kuusis were wonderful to me—oh, there were a few I’d rather not have known—but they always treated me as one of their kin. And I will never forget them. I honored them by taking their name.”
“Come—we need to move. It’s too cold to stay still and we have a long way to go.” Howl nodded gruffly, but his eyes were kind.
We started up again, and as we trudged along, the snow began to fall in earnest. Delicate flakes, filling the air like a lacework crisscrossing the path. It fell through the lattice of branches, it fell through the open spots, it fell silently and softly, piling up in gentle layers.
As we walked, a faint whistle echoed through the woodland and then I could hear them—pipes echoing in the distance. A woman’s voice called out, singing in a language I could not recognize, but it haunted me, her song, ricocheting off the trees. While I could not understand the words, I knew she sang of love lost, and trials left undone, and challenges failed.
The song began to work its way into my heart and I could only think, Why go on? Why bother trying? All things were lost in the end, death claimed us all, so why attempt to win? All victory was shallow, and the victors’ bones lay as bleached as the snow around us. Wouldn’t it be easier just to sit here, to listen to the music forever? Wouldn’t it be easier to let go of the past and forget about the future?
Stumbling to my knees, I found myself adrift in a snowbank. Bleakly, I stared up as Camille leaned over me. “Iris? Iris! Shake out of it—you have to stand up. You’ll freeze if you don’t get moving.”
“Loss, it’s all loss,” I told her, wanting to make her understand. The worm had eaten its way into my heart and I could see no more into the future. Everything felt tainted and rotten.
“Wake, wake and dance again, little sister,” Howl said, kneeling beside me. He brushed his hand across my face and I blinked at the warmth. He was so warm, so vibrant.
“How can you be—you are one of the Elemental Lords of Winter . . . You can’t be so warm and alive . . .”
“But I am. I am Aatu also known as Howl, Lord of the Pack, the Great Winter Wolf Spirit. My people live and love under the winter snows, they play and mate and feed and sing to the moon. They mourn the dead but they do not mourn the living. Come, sister, wake and remember your journey. The Singing Spirit has you in her grasp and you must push her away. Plug your ears if you have to, but do not let her seep into your heart and drag you away from us.”