A/N: As promised, the next chapter!
Chapter 7
"That was a good shot." Curtnas Laaksonen briefly examined Kristoff's kill. As the short, broad man circled the dead wolf, he periodically shoved wood under its limp body. "You should've aimed for the chest on the first shot, where the heart is. Everything else was good, though. I watched you aim. All of your fundamentals were there." He straightened, stomping his feet for warmth. "You've certainly improved from when you first started learning."
Kristoff nodded, and dumped some kindling on top of the carcass. "Thanks."
The generously clothed man smiled up at Kristoff wryly, the visible part of his face crinkling in amusement. "Still not much of a talker, eh?" Curtnas crouched over the carcass. Moments later, fire leapt into the air, acrid smoke spiraling into the dark sky. "Most people would be suspicious of a mysterious character suddenly appearing, asking for work, with little else but a reindeer and a sled." Curtnas squinted his eyes at Kristoff's hulking frame, but a teasing twinkle belied his serious stance.
Kristoff shrugged.
Curtnas laughed, a booming sound that echoed across the quiet, snow-covered landscape. "Alright, let's head back to base. I'm sure Lena is anxious to get into her own cooking." The pair trudged through the snow towards Curtnas' family cabin. Kristoff inhaled deeply. The scent of meat and fish traveled easily through the crisp winter air, although it mixed unpleasantly with the stench of rabid wolf. He lengthened his stride.
Curtnas continued to babble merrily about anything and everything that crossed his mind, content to have Kristoff as a willing listener even if the giant wasn't much of a conversationalist. Kristoff nodded at the appropriate moments, even mustering a surprised grunt when Curtnas delivered the punch line of a particularly raunchy joke involving a reindeer, an old crone, and two trout. After a short walk, they reached the door of the Laaksonen winter home.
The door burst open, an optimistic barrier to Curtnas' explosive joy. "I have returned, my loving family!" He held his arms wide, but not quite as wide as his smile. Kristoff stooped to avoid the door frame, smiling apologetically.
"Curtnas!" A squat, capable woman bustled to the doorway, cheeks flushed and eyes ablaze. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times—if you keep blasting our door open ten times a day we're going to have to replace it before the season is out!"
Kristoff discreetly closed the admittedly forlorn door behind the bickering couple as Curtnas waved his hand about. "Nonsense, Lena! You're just angry because you're hungry. Where are ean'ni and Isa? Already at the table?"
Lena pursed her lips, but answered his question anyway. "Yes. Your mother tried to run away again," Lena helped Curtnas shrug off his bulky overcoat, "without a stitch of thread on her, naked as the day she was born."
Curtnas' face melted into a look of fondness. "Dear ean'ni has always been a bit of a survivalist. I think she likes the challenge."
Lena looked at her husband incredulously. "She's seventy!"
"We don't know that for sure."
"Well, she's at least fifty-five. You're forty and you're not even her oldest! Oh, Kristoff be a dear and set your coat on a chair? I haven't mended the coat rack yet." Kristoff obliged before continuing into the living-dining room, where Curtnas' aging mother and his only daughter waited patiently to begin eating. Kristoff folded his limbs together and sat amongst the cushions, careful not to knock into anything. He smiled briefly at the pair. The matriarch glared at him balefully.
He tried to avoid looking at Isa, knowing she'd want to engage him in talk, but his presence seemed to be encouragement enough. "How are the reindeer today, Kristoff?" He nodded in a somewhat positive manner. "That's great!" He snuck a glance at her, and saw that she meant it sincerely. She was roughly his age—maybe closer to Anna's—and just as exuberant as her father. "We thought we heard a gunshot earlier! Didn't we, ahhku?" The matriarch stuck out her lower lip in an approximation of a pout. Isa blazed on, unfazed. "Well, it was either a gunshot or a reindeer broke an antler trying to get into the house again." She watched him expectantly.
Kristoff nearly sighed when he realized he didn't have a nonverbal response for her question. "Gunshot." Isa's large, dark eyes bulged in excitement. She was momentarily silenced as she tried to choose one of the thousands of questions swarming her mind. Kristoff decided to preempt her flurry of half-formed questions. "Wolf. Rabid. Dead now. Burnt it."
Rather than becoming discouraged with his rather short responses, Isa's grin grew to unheralded—and perhaps unwarranted—size. "That's amazing! Incredible! So adventurous! Did you shoot it, or did—"
"There's my darling Isa! How are you—wait, who gave ean'ni a knife?" There was a brief scuffle where an old woman was deprived of sharp, pointy objects, before the whole family found themselves settled at the table. The family descended into hearty conversation as they passed plates of food. Most of it was in Norwegian, although the grandmother spoke exclusively Sami. Kristoff allowed his mind to wander, relaxing in the warm familial atmosphere.
Kristoff has been working for the Laaksonen family for almost two months. After travelling for four straight days almost without rest, Kristoff and Sven had stumbled upon this herding family. Actually, it had been Sven who stumbled into them, as Kristoff had fallen asleep at the reins, but that's a technicality. Curtnas was overjoyed to hire Kristoff as a hand; all three of his sons were gone for the month for various reasons and he was in desperate need of help. Kristoff also suspected that he was lonely, because no sooner had he been hired than Curtnas took him under his wing and taught Kristoff everything.
First it was the basics of reindeer husbandry. Curtnas was incredibly thorough in every aspect, although Kristoff wished that he had held back some of the particular details of reindeer breeding rituals and habits. Next was housekeeping and general winter hygiene. Kristoff discovered that there was much more involved with housekeeping than regular dusting. In addition to cooking all of their meals, Grandmother Laaksonen and Isa prepped all of the fish and reindeer meat for extended keeping and eventual sale. They laundered all of the family's clothes—surprisingly difficult, given water's tendency to freeze even when close to a fire—and kept ledgers for the thousand-strong herd. Once deemed proficient in household tasks, Curtnas began to teach Kristoff how to shoot. Kristoff was very unhappy to be dealing with rifles at first. He was a large man, used to using his own physical strength to overcome any adversity or difference of opinion. He felt like guns were… cheating. Curtnas was keen to point out his short stature and reminded Kristoff that wolves aren't prone to reasoning. Kristoff grudgingly admitted that it was a useful skill and practiced dutifully, as his earlier success proved.
Curtnas kept him very busy, but not quite busy enough. Every time he found himself with a spare moment, thoughts of Anna took hold. At first he resisted, but it wasn't easy and more importantly it didn't help. The pain still hadn't dulled, but he supposed it was natural to need much more than a month or two to recover. Staying with the Laaksonens helped. On top of Curtnas' seemingly endless tasks, it was hard to fall into melancholy around such an… uh… energetic family. Isa was especially keen to attach herself to Kristoff. Her demeanor forcefully reminded him of Anna, right down to her tendency to trip and fall. God, he missed Anna…
"Kristoff," Curtnas burst into his musings. "Would you do a last check on the herd for the night? Make sure everything looks alright." Kristoff nodded and rose from the table, pausing at the door to layer on extra clothes.
The silent winter night was in direct contrast to the loud din inside the small house. He could hear the click of reindeer's knees and the occasional dry clacking sound of antlers gently colliding. Kristoff had walked about a half mile around the heard when Sven joined him. Kristoff grinned and rubbed his friend's nose affectionately.
"I see you've lost your antlers for the season."
Kristoff adopted his Sven-voice, "I see you've gained weight for the season."
"Ouch! What's got you in a mood?" Kristoff's grin faded as he realized that Sven really was agitated. He stared out past Kristoff's shoulder and shuffled nervously in the snow. Kristoff whirled around, expecting to see another wolf, but only saw a white expanse and the dark tree line in the distance. He turned back to Sven. "What's the matter, Sven?" Sven dipped his head, nodding in the direction Kristoff had just turned from. "There's nothing there—"
He froze.
Standing not ten feet from him was a man, cloaked entirely in white furs and fabrics. Kristoff could see nothing of his face, covered from the cold. He could see the man's pistol, holstered neatly at his side, glint menacingly in the moonlight. When the man spoke, it cracked and creaked as if it rarely saw use:
"You are coming with me."
