the ones at the school in Torshavn.”
“That horrible place.” Hanna hated the rigorous discipline enforced at school. It terrified her, the same way the mountain terrified her, and she looked at Jannick with her green eyes, pleading for reassurance.
“We’ll be all right,” stated her friend firmly. “The barons gave us their sign.” He ripped up a blade of grass and they watched it fall nearly vertically to the ground.
“Okay,” Hanna said, and led him again into the stony grayness.
The flat area was not as simple as it appeared, and the children found themselves falling into small divots and climbing large clusters of grasses. Abruptly, Hanna screamed, and Jannick frantically clambered over a wet thicket to reach her. She was waist deep in marshy mud.
“A bog,” Jannick whispered, frightened now. He helped Hanna out, and they continued warily, attempting to hop between the largest tufts of grass, splashing into holes until their wool pants and boots were soaked and brown. At last they reached the rocks on the far side, and Jannick looked at Hanna with triumph in his blue eyes.
“We’re almost there!” he shouted, his small voice echoing on the hillside. But when he looked at Hanna, he saw that she was miserable, exhausted and shivering. He wondered what time it was.
“Just a little farther,” he begged. “Almost.”
Hanna nodded, clenching her little mittened fists, and they threaded their way through boulders and crags until grass disappeared, leaving only rocky cliffs and outcrops. The wind had come up, swirling and chilling their wet bodies.
“Jannick…” Hanna called from behind him. “Can’t we rest a bit? I’m tired.”