Page 156 of These Tears

I cling to that as the snowmobile growls beneath us and we dash through the cold.

A brother would know whether Melody was the axis of this family’s tragedy. She married Isak, though.

Had the rivalry between the Crane brothers put Melody somewhere between them? Not as a woman loved by one and lost to another, but as the match struck over something already soaked in flammable things?

Or had there been another woman entirely who had caused him this much pain?

The old questions take over, and time slips strangely underneath the growl of the engine.

By the time my thoughts finally loosen their teeth from Melody’s name, enough time has passed for the morning to feel distant.

My fingers have gone stiff inside the gloves and my knees ache from bracing against him.

It must be close to noon when the engine’s vibrations finally begin to ease and we come to a stop. The buzzing doesn’t leave with them. It still lingers like a tremor deep in my thighs and knees, travelling through my bones.

‘Break,’ he announces, pulling my goggles off, then the blindfold.

Brightness crashes into me first, almost making my eyes water. Then the world comes into focus behind him: a long stretch of white broken by a few straggling trees and the mountains peering lazily over the horizon.

Our bodies disentangle and I get to my feet, straightening until my joints crack and my spine protests after being wrapped around him for so long.

Then I turn around and my breath leaves me.

The world has opened. The treeline thins just beyond the path where we stopped, revealing a cliff that arches over the coastline below. The fjord spills out beneath us like a vast sheet of pale glass, sun catching along the ice in soft golds and silvers. Jagged cliffs frame it like ancient jaws, and snow-dusted peaks rise beyond, their shadow reaching far across the frozen surface. These mountains once watched longships cut through a winter like this, carrying men whose bones have been dust for a thousand years, but whose bravery still lives on.

It strikes me so suddenly, it feels like I’ve walked into Valhalla. My chest stutters. Awe and longing blend and my hand moves to the shutter that isn’t there, momentarily disappointed.

‘Hey…’ he calls softly behind me.

I whip my head towards him. He’s rolled his face cover up to his forehead. His cheeks are a soft shade of winter-pink, eyes all but aglow in this light.

Air fills my lungs too quickly to keep.

He’s holding my camera out for me. He brought it with us.

‘Take the demons for a walk.’

The smile that explodes on my face almost hurts.

I yank the balaclava off and all but throw myself at the camera.

He takes my face cover from me, observing the madness with interest as I point my lens left and right.

I take three shots, then start lowering the camera by habit at the prickling little sensation climbing up my neck.

Come on, Leah!

Ron’s old impatience is so loud and clear I almost turn towards it.

One more shot then. Quickly. Before Elias tells me I’ve taken too long.

‘I’m almost done,’ I say quietly as I take another snap of the sunlight spanning the half-frozen water.

‘We’re not in a rush. The gathering is a few hours away.’

My motions slow at that. I risk a glance towards him.

He’s still seated on the snowmobile, one arm draped across the handlebar, the other resting on his thigh – watching me in that still, focused way of his. The sunlight gilds the edges of his obsidian hair, catches on the curve of his jaw and the thickening beard around his neck.