The Return

Prologue

Tears were running down her cheeks, the frosty tracks stinging her skin. She was utterly exhausted. She could no longer feel her feet, her fingers were stiff, and every inch of her body was screaming to get out of the cold. Into the warm light, so far away behind the trees that she no longer knew how she would ever get back there. A world of cottages with thatched roofs, where people were safe. Where there was food and warmth. Peace and quiet.

Darkness had long since fallen over the woods, turning the large fir trees into jagged monsters towering over the small path. They flicked at her face, as if to say: The worst of all things has happened. You will never find her. She was small and weak, and the forest was far too big. Her boots crackled on the stiff, frozen grass. The smoky smell of peat fires told her it was not far now. She could hear a dog barking. Her voice was raw and hoarse from calling out for hours to no avail. All the same she gathered the last remains of her strength.

“Milleee? Milleee?”

Nobody answered her, and, overcome by despair, she stumbled across a stub and did not get back up. She was too tired to ever get up again.

Eventually it was Quist who found her. “Come on, Signe. You have to go home now. There’s nothing more we can do tonight. Home to sleep.” His tone of voice did not invite for debate.

“No,” she protested.

Quist did not say anything more. He simply pulled her up by her sleeve, led her to the old gamekeeper’s farm and handed her over. “She can’t go on tonight,” he announced to the room in general.

Signe submitted, and sat down obediently to drink the cup of hot coffee he handed her. She waited until he had been gone for five minutes.

Then she pulled her gloves on and went back into the forest.