Jannick ran inside the Knudssen house, finding Hanna drinking her thick soup.
“Quick, we have to go up the mountain.”
“Where? Why?” Hanna did not seem to understand.
“My mother…” Jannick began, trying not to cry. “My mother will die if we don’t find them and tell the Wind Barons to spare her,” he burst out.
Hanna said nothing but stood up and walked to where her coat hung on its peg. She put on the thick wool scarf, mittens, and coat. Jannick followed her into the deep gray of the summer night. The winds were low, and he took this as a sign that he was on the right path.
They passed the Yellow Rock and tramped through the sheep fields to the tumbled stone wall that for them marked the boundary of their village. Beyond that the slopes steepened, and the two small figures struggled up the high sward, slipping on the wet, matted clumps of tough grass. For almost an hour they climbed, not speaking, lost in their private thoughts. Once in a while, when one of them slipped, the other offered a hand.
The sky had deepened a little, but at this time of year never went completely dark, giving them enough light to see by, but making the entire island seem menacing and incredibly old.
“We’re almost there,” Jannick panted, and they crested the slope. But Hanna, slightly ahead of him, gasped.
“Oh no.” The slope they had climbed led to a false summit, beyond which lay a long flat area, and then a further slope, rocky and barren, with the true summit of the island disappearing into the clouds.
“Should we go back?” Hanna asked, her tiny frame trembling. “I don’t think we’re supposed to…” She trailed off.
Jannick stared resolutely ahead. “No, it’s like a test, like the ones at the school in Torshavn.”