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272 pages, Paperback
Published November 1, 2021
The clanging of the anchor chain reverberates across the water to the shoreline where she stands beside Sæterdal. Sjefen, Chief, the men call him. They watch as the boat swings out, three warbling blasts to signal farewell. A year before they will see another ship. A year away from those she holds most dear. She draws herself firm, raises her arm, imagining how, from out there, she and he are two stick figures, barely human, marooned in frozen vastness.
When the ship motors from view, too late to change her mind, a man's voice comes to her as sharply as the wind that shimmies down the mountain and knocks a fist between her shoulder blades. (p.29)
Their New year trip to Fuglefjell has been delayed thanks to a second inscrutable week of heavy snow, then showers of rain, then freeze and hail, the only constant a fierceness of wind which jams new rafts of ice and logs of driftwood up along the shoreline. Out in the fjord, bergs locked in the sea split and topple, issuing a booming thunder and opening up the ice until the gash refreezes. When snowdrift eases enough to see out the back door, to make headway on skis beyond the Signal, they slip and slither on patches of black ice. Their dogs slide on their haunches in a knot of harnesses, the sledge toppling when it hits the snow. Wanny loses count of the trigger locks she pulls apart, the wooden pieces doused with rain then frozen in place, all along the trap line. She struggles physically and mentally at the thought of twenty traps — the kilograms of stone to be offloaded, each trap cleared of snow before it can be rebaited, the aching effort of gingerly reloading thirty, forty kilograms of stone back onto a frame... (p.147)