many responsibilities, like the care of the dead, restoring the large cairns and graveyard headstones. More often they were silent, sitting on the island summit, contemplating their kingdom and watching Jannick’s small life with interest.
As far as he knew, only one other person believed in the Wind Barons, Hanna Knudssen. When he was six, the family next door moved back to Denmark, and the Knudssens appeared. Mr. Knudssen steered the ships that traveled to Scotland, which Jannick was told he had seen as a baby. Jannick greeted these newcomers by scratching “Welcome” into their newly painted door with a sharp rock. Mrs. Knudssen had never forgiven him, and Martja was forced to bake endless breads to appease the neighbor’s ill-will.
Their daughter, Hanna, was another matter. She had reddish-brown hair and told Jannick that he was going to be her friend. “My secret friend. Mother does not like you at all.”
Jannick, mesmerized by her green eyes, quickly agreed. His first friend! Of course, there were his cousins from Runavik, but to reach their house required a special overnight trip with his mother. Now, he had someone to play with every day. His mother seemed glad of the friendship, and there was no need to hide it from her.
Jannick and Hanna explored the small harbor town, hiding under the overturned rescue boats, naming all the houses in town by their color and position, such as “Red Hill” or “Blue Beach.” The wind was their friend or enemy, depending on the feeling of the day. Once in their travels they had reached the edge of the village, where the high green slopes rose from the rocky shore. They could see a few windblown sheep owned by the people in the “Yellow Rock.”
“Let’s go up there.” Hanna had pointed.