The Lost Child

The morning was calm, with frost lying thick across the valley as Niklaus led Hela down to the far pastures. Though Mikhail was recovering, he was still unable to ride, which meant at least one more week of turnouts for her. She accepted this with only minimal dramatics, as Mikhail was now able to get to the stable with some help from a cane.

“You need to give us a break,” Niklaus had teased the day before when Hela had nearly bowled the footman over in her haste to reach him when Mikhail hobbled into the arena.

He smelled suspicious, Hela had thought, tossing her head airily. 

Niklaus unclipped her lead once they were through the gate for the pasture. “Behave yourself, no trouble,” he warned with a smile.

She trotted off at once with a kick of her heels, the wool of her turnout blanket warm against a biting breeze. Her breath steamed as she worked into a carefree gallop, the snow in the field deep enough to swallow her hoofprints and muffle the pounding rhythm of her gait. Chernysh soon descended from the overcast sky, spiraling down to land nearby on a fence post as Hela slowed to a halt.

He croaked loudly at her approach, a kraaaak which pierced the still air sharply. Hela snorted a greeting to the raven as he hopped onto her withers in a familiar and greedy claim of his territory.

Together, they wandered down to the broken fenceline and she slipped through. Then, they roamed.

The snow had been slowly melting due to a warm week, but the temperatures had slipped again and so the water froze into long icicles clinging to the limbs of trees like decorations. Hela nosed at drifts of snow, blowing it at Chernysh as he hopped around on the ground. Everything was peaceful but for a few rabbits racing off as she startled them.

Until it wasn’t. Chernysh chirruped angrily, fluffing his feathers and taking off abruptly. Hela stilled instantly, following his path with her eyes while her ears swiveled, searching for the sound. 

There. Something small? Something crying, Hela snuffled as a faint, wavering sound finally reached her ears, drifting through the sun-dappled trees.

“Please,” a child’s faint voice, thin and high with fear, whimpered. Hela’s heart clenched and her protective instincts pushed her forward. Without hesitation, she began to trot in the direction of the noise. Chernysh circled above, cawing at her to move faster before launching ahead, his black wings slicing through the air, expertly dodging branches and icicles as he led the way.

The sound led her deeper into the woods, and as the child’s sobbing grew clearer, she noted that it was punctuated by hiccups and frightened breaths. Hela stepped lightly through the snow until at last, she found him.

A little boy of no more than six years sat at the base of a large pine tree, curling into himself and shivering, despite the heavy fur coat and boots he wore. His cheeks were red and raw from wind and tears, his hat covered in frost.

Hela approached slowly, lowering her head until her whiskers brushed his coat. The boy startled with a yelp and scooched backward, looking up with wide, tear-filled eyes. He scrubbed his mittens over the tears on his cheeks before standing up.

“Hello,” he smiled shyly, his lip still trembling as Hela snorted her warm breath over his face in comfort. Chernysh landed on her shoulder with a click of his beak.

“I know I’m not supposed to be out here,” he sniffed, “but I saw a fox and I wanted to see it up close and now I’m lost because sometimes I lost the tracks and I wandered and it’s darker here.”

Hela moved closer, wrapping her body around him like a windbreak, chuffing as he pressed into her, burying his fingers in her mane.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said. “Can you take me home?” His voice was hopeful but still choked with tears. She whinnied softly in assurance.

Stay with me and I will take you back. So fragile and cold.

Chernysh gave a loud, approving clack of his beak, startling the boy, who grinned as the raven poked his head. As the raven distracted him, his shaking slowly eased, and Hela nudged him firmly in the side, encouraging him toward a fallen log so he could mount her. 

He looked at it dubiously but followed her lead. After several tries, during which he scrambled awkwardly to get ahold of her mane and pull himself onto the blanket across her back, he finally sat astride and wound his fingers through her mane. He wobbled several times, but Hela moved slowly and smoothly as she walked through the trees, carefully avoiding low branches which might scrape him off.

Chernysh eventually took off, forging ahead and circling back. Though the trek was slow, the forest steadily thinned as Hela walked back the way she came, toward the far pasture. Once she reached the fenceline, she followed it back to the barns.

At the gate of the pasture, her ears flicked as she heard frantic voices echoing across the fields and stable yards.

“Alek!”

“Alek, where are you?!”

The boy’s head lifted at the sound. “Papa! Papa!”

Hela let out a sharp whinny, and the boy bounced on her back. “Here, Papa!”

Finally within sight, the men of the search party turned to look and a blond-haired giant began to sprint across the snow. Hela could see the fear on his face melt into relief as they spotted the small child pressed against her back as he attempted to slide down to the ground, partially taking her blanket off as he did so.

The giant of a man, evidently Alek’s father, dropped to his knees and pulled the boy into a hug. “Oh, Alek, you’re okay,” he huffed with a laugh. “We were so worried.”

“I was lost in the forest, Papa, but the horse found me!”

As ‘Papa’ stood, holding Alek’s hand, his other hand found Hela’s neck and he stroked her fondly. “Bless you, love. I knew you were a clever girl when I told Mikhail to buy you, but I’ll forever be grateful.”

Ah, Dmitri, Hela finally placed his face. She pressed her forehead into his palm, trying to not look too pleased with the affection, as another man came up and wrapped his hand around her halter.

Chernysh had flown off as soon as the men started toward them, and Hela spotted him heading back toward the forest before she was led to follow Dmitri and Alek. By the time she reached the stable, Niklaus had been alerted to her escape from the pasture and stood waiting at her stall, a grateful but half-scolding look on his face.

“Good job, girl,” he patted her nose. “But no more escapes from the pasture. Mikhail would have a stroke if you ever got hurt.”

Hmm, no promises, Hela thought.