The Raven and the Reindeer Read Online Free PDF Page A

 
    “You can weed the garden,” said Helga. “ After breakfast.”
    Breakfast was large. So was the garden. Chickweed, which loved a cold spring, overran the corners of the vegetable beds and formed green hillocks under the bare rosebushes.  
    Gerta set to work, gouging out great damp handfuls and throwing them into a basket. There were springs when chickweed was the first green food available, when everyone in town ate chickweed salads three times a day to keep from getting winter sickness.  
    “Come and eat,” said Helga, when Gerta had weeded half the garden.  
    Gerta wiped her hands on her apron. Her fingers smelled green.  
    After lunch, she had thought to move on, but there was still so much to weed in the garden. Tomorrow, she thought. I will set out again tomorrow. Helga is living alone (for there was no one else in the house) and needs my help. I will go out tomorrow after Kay. One day will make no difference.  
    She was not eager to start out again, in truth, especially not so late in the day. The open fields would be cold at night. If she set out in the morning, she could get farther, and perhaps find another house to stay at, or at least a haystack. Travelling all night was clearly a bad idea.
    Tomorrow.

    She dreamed that night of chickweed, which was a strange thing to dream about. Chickweed is a low, weedy little plant, not very distinguished. No one writes poetry comparing their lovers to chickweed (or if they do, the poems are rarely well received).  
    In her dreams, she stood in a field of it, and the plants grew over her feet, cool as well-water. Tiny white flowers spangled the field like stars.  
    “Have you seen Kay?” she asked sadly. “I must find him.”
    “ Ahhhh…” whispered the flowers, and the sound went out around her in a circle, like a wind blowing. “ Ahhhh…who is Kay...we do not know…”  
    “He is my friend,” said Gerta.   “The Snow Queen took him.”
    The chickweed shivered. Gerta knelt and ran her hand over the stems, and they rippled into water, reflective, as if she stood knee-deep in a green pool.
    In the surface, she saw another garden, surrounded by high walls. A girl with dark skin knelt in that garden, cutting plants with a knife. She wore a red dress and her face was sad and angry.
    Gerta was afraid to move, for fear of disturbing the scene before her.
    The girl stood, turning her head back toward a doorway. The anger faded, became only sorrow and confusion. She went through the doorway. A hedgehog trundled across the garden path, looking for slugs.
    The vision faded. The water was no longer water but plants again, a sea of cold-weather weeds.
    “That wasn’t Kay,” said Gerta. “I don’t know who it was. I’m sorry.”
    The chickweed sighed. “Ahhh….” and Gerta woke.

    She was lying in a small, snug trundle bed with a bright red quilt covered in roses.  
    She got up, and Helga came to the door in her painted hat, smiling.  
    “Come and eat breakfast,” said Helga.
    “I’m supposed to do chores for you,” said Gerta, trying to remember…something.   A dream? Where had it gone?
    “You can weed the garden,” said Helga. “After breakfast.”
    The peas were coming up in the garden. Gerta spent the morning wrapping the twining stems up poles. Small white flowers gaped open, perfuming the air. Bees buzzed around them, climbing inside, drunk on the fragrance.  
    There were a great many peas. The morning was gone before she noticed. Tomorrow, she thought. I will set out again tomorrow after Kay. One day will make no difference.

    Her dream that night was of twining peas, sweetly scented. She stood inside a bower, looking up at the vines from inside. They rustled and whispered to her in many voices. Bees climbed through the flowers, and the buzzing joined the whisper of leaves until it sounded almost like speech.
    “I must find Kay,” said Gerta. “Have you seen him…?”  
    “ Who is Kay…Kay…Kay…” asked the plants, making