I was like a long-ago mapmaker. When faced with uncharted territory—a talking beast in my home—I saw evil. And when my wife spoke of giving in to the request of an evil creature, I saw evil in her, too. To willingly sacrifice one daughter for another was an abomination. For the first time in our married life, I began to doubt my Eugenia.

We borrowed a small cart from Torsk to transport Sara. We told him that I needed to make repairs on the chimney before the landlord came to take over his property. It would be a sooty, messy job, and it would be safest to have at least part of the family move to Torsk's farmhold sooner rather than later. He was willing and so we bundled Sara into the cart. Fortunately, it was a fair day, though cold, and she was no worse for the trip.

Rose, Neddy, and I made our way back to the farm in silence. Eugenia had left a pot of soup on the hearth for us, along with a small loaf of brown bread. Rose deliberately laid out a tablecloth, one she had made herself, and Neddy set the table.

We ate the modest meal in silence. The minutes ticked by.

After we had finished eating, and had washed and put away the dishes, Rose took up some sewing while Neddy read. I aimlessly poked the fire, then sat down to look over our accounts, though my mind was not on my task.

It grew late—later, I thought, than when the white bear had come before. Hope began to flicker in me that he would not come after all. Perhaps a hunter had felled him. Or perhaps he had changed his mind. I was about to break the silence in the room to give voice to these thoughts, when there came a noise from the door.

This time no one opened the door. It swung open on its own. And standing there, the moon shining bright behind her, was Eugenia.

I let out a deep breath, then crossed to her.

"What are you doing here, wife?" I said, my voice ragged. "Is it Sara?..."

She stared at me, then shook her head sharply in the negative. She sidestepped away and went to Rose. "Daughter," she said, "I do not want to lose you. I have always tried to keep you close. But you must go with the white bear."

"Eugenia!" I shouted.

"You will use all your wits and your east practicality. And you will not be lost to us, not forever. I know it." She took Rose's hand as she spoke.

Rose was pale. She stood. Then she deliberately removed her hand from Eugenia's and stepped away from her.

"'East'?" Rose whispered. "'East'..." she said again, louder, shaking her head. "No, not 'east,' Mother. North? And her last word filled the room.

Then the white bear was at the door. And before any of us could move, Rose had crossed to him. She reached behind a large wooden trunk that stood by the door and drew out a small knapsack. She must have hidden it there earlier.

"I will go with you," Rose said to the bear, and I watched, unbelieving, as the animal's great paws flashed and Rose was suddenly astride the bear's back as if he were some enormous horse.

The white bear turned and disappeared through the doorway.

Neddy let out a cry and ran after them, grabbing his coat as he went.

I started after them as well, but Eugenia blocked my way.

"She must go. It is her direction. Her choice."

I looked back at Eugenia. Then looked from her to the empty doorway. I had lost everything I held dear. And there would be no reclaiming it.

Neddy

I COULD SEE A BLUR of white ahead of me.

"Rose!" I shouted. "Wait! Rose..." I kept calling as I ran, till my throat ached. But somehow I kept the white blur in sight and they must have slowed, for I began to gain on them.

Then I realized the bear had stopped altogether.

The moon was very bright and I could see them clearly. Rose in a blue dress, sitting perched on the back of the massive beast. She looked unsure of herself, as though she wanted to find a way down but couldn't. It wouldn't be like dismounting from a horse. The bear abruptly kneeled and Rose managed to awkwardly slide off.

Rose tentatively moved toward me, looking over her shoulder several times. "I chose, Neddy," she said. "It is the right thing to do."

I wanted to grab her, to carry her back home to safety, but all I did was hod silently. I said, "Here," and held out the four pieces of her cloak. "I pinned it together. You can sew it whole later. Truth or lie, it may be cold where you journey."

She took the ragged cloak from me and fastened it around her shoulders. "Thank you, Neddy."

"One thing more," I said. And quickly I blurted out the tale of the white bear's rescuing her from the gorge when she was little. "If he did that," I ended lamely, "then surely he can mean you no ill." I believe I spoke these words as much to reassure myself as I did to reassure her.

She leaned over and hugged me. We held each other for a long moment. Then she broke away and lightly crossed to the white bear.

I watched as he once again lifted her to his back.

And they were gone.

Book Two

South

They journeyed far and the white bear said, "Are you afraid?"

"No,"she replied. "I am not afraid "

Troll Queen

IT IS CLOSE NOW. Very close. And it shall unfold as I had planned from the beginning.

"Would you like to play?" he had said. A boy with a curling-up mouth and a voice soft as fresh-fallen snow. With those words came the wanting. And all was changed. Irrevocably.

I was Princess then, and The Book my father had given me was new. The Book had been a gift to me on the eve of my first journey to the green lands, to begin recording my royal days.

Today I travel to the green lands and lean hardly believe it. Ever since I was a baby, Urda, my old nurse, has told me stories of the softskin folk. Now at last I shall see them for myself.

When the king's eldest child reaches the age of knowing, it is the tradition to take him or her to see the green lands that lie outside Huldre. It is a strange world, my father says. He says it exists mainly for us to use—a place to get slaves and the raw materials for some of our food and clothing.

He says they are a very queer people, the softskin folk, not like us at all. They are backward and plain. Short lived. No arts like ours. Their jewels are pale, and except for a very few who are of royalty, most live in small drab huts, like our servants' quarters. It sounds very strange indeed.

But Urda told me more, told me about different things they have, amazing things. Something called music. And many, many kinds of animals. And bursts of fragrant color that grow out of the ground, called flowers. And their food is melting soft, too, exotic and all different flavors. My father calls it repulsive, says it would make me sick, but in spite of that I am curious.

The journey was long, but the sleigh was comfortable and there was plenty of hot slank to drink. In fact, it grew so warm after a time that we gradually had to peel away all our furs. How can the softskins stand this pressing warmth? It makes me feel choked and prickly.

We will stay for a week in the green lands. Our lodging is in a palace of rock, though my father says it is nothing like the Ice Palace of Huldre. He said it is not used often, only when we need to journey here to replace servants. And it is hidden from the softskins'sight.

Softskin folk do not live as long as we do and must be replenished. So we come every twenty or thirty years to take away more. My father says it is best to choose unwanted, unmarried people, not children, because less fuss is made when they disappear. Not that they could find us anyway. It is too long, arduous, and pulling a journey for softskin folk. And it is too cold in our land for softskins; without slank they would die within a few hours, a day if they were well equipped. Father says there have been a handful of softskins called explorers who have journeyed to within a hundred miles of our land. We collected one or two of these, he says, and they made especially good servants because they were so hardy.