The Myling – Chapter 3, Trek to Sorgvannet

I gave Solveig, the inn’s barmaid a final wave of farewell before opening the door to the bright morning sun. The twins ran out into the street laughing. Paul hesitated, his eyes lingering on Solveig momentarily. A sharp elbow in the ribs would deal with that.

His head snapped around to look at me, eyes wide in feigned innocence.

“Hey Jane? What was that for?” He said in a voice almost as ridiculous as the look on his face.

“You know very well what that was for.” I nodded my head sharply towards the door, gesturing for him to move. Muttering something under his breath, he obeyed.

He’d been fawning over that poor girl all last night, during dinner and again at breakfast this morning. Did he really think she’d be interested in him? No such luck, I was stuck with him.

Stepping outside, another bright sunny day shone down on us. Maybe not as warm as the previous day but still perfectly comfortable. The sky was blue with the odd, fluffy white cloud floating motionless.

The bells of the church opposite rang out loudly, a deep and resonant clang echoing off the wooden houses of the village. I stopped for a second to watch as a number of the locals walked hurriedly towards the large, arched doors. Among them, wearing a long dark coat and bent over a walking stick was an old man.

“Hey, Jane! Look over there! It’s your mate, that crazy from the pub yesterday. What was his name, Jacob or something?” Paul looked at me laughing, it was a laugh that could really grate on your nerves.

“Jakob!” Was it really that difficult to pronounce the man’s name correctly?! The poor old boy was probably just a bit lonely.

“Looks like he’s going to church. Didn’t you say you’d join him? He’s probably going to save a pew for you next to him.” He laughed again, amusing himself with his own joke.

“Oh, will you behave yourself!” I chided him while digging the GPS device from my coat pocket. “We’ve got nine miles until we get to Sorgvannet. I want to get there at a reasonable time and I don’t need you blathering on, the whole way.”

Powering the small black device on, the screen lit up. We had already planned and programmed the route in last night. There was a river just a couple of miles to the north, through the forest. After that, it was a nice simple case of following the river as it made its way up into the hills and eventually arriving at the Sorgvannet lake.

“He’s looking at you, Jane. See, I told you he was going to save you a pew.” Paul laughed again.

Glancing up, I looked towards the church. Jakob was standing there, his eyes fixed firmly on us.

“I reckon he’s got the hots for you.”

“Oh, will you just be quiet!” I was coming close to giving him a slap. “Come on we need to get going. Tom, Sarah, come on, we’re going this way.”

The twins looked up from where they had been crouched, poking at something in the grass.

“Race you to Mummy!” Sarah shouted the challenge at her brother before jumping up and charging towards me. Her pink jacket, unzipped, streamed out behind her as she ran, her ponytail bobbing.

“You didn’t say go! That’s not fair!” Tom complained before jumping to his feet and giving chase. His little face was bright red and legs pumping as he tried to catch his sister.

It was Sarah who got to me first, barrelling into my leg moments before Tom came clattering into me at full steam. They were getting too big for this, one of these days they were going to send me flying.

“Beat you!” Sarah said, mockingly. Tom responded by sticking his tongue out at her.

“Don’t you two start, we’re going this way.” Laughing, I hitched my pack higher onto my back, put a hand on a shoulder of each twin and began walking down the street through Vettheim, with Paul following close behind us.

According to the GPS, there should be a path just past the last house.

The path was easy enough to find. It was just a small, narrow track leading into the green expanse of the birch trees.

The air under the trees was cooler, the bright sunlight filtered in through the leaves overhead. The ground was soft underfoot with an earthy scent hanging in the air. The children ran ahead, excitedly pointing out the birds high in the trees or red squirrels that darted amongst the branches. Occasionally they’d come running back to tell me about a reindeer or even a wolf that they were convinced they had seen.

The ground was good and we made steady progress, we had been going for probably just under an hour before we first heard the gurgling babble of the river ahead. The river was shallow and no more than a couple of metres wide. The water ran quickly, bubbling and rippling over the stony bed.

We stopped there for a bite to eat before pressing on, following the river north-west. Nine miles until destination according to the display on my GPS.

As the day wore on, the path began to climb. It wasn’t a steep climb, but it was just enough to cause a hot burn in the calves. The trees began to thin out, the ground grew harder and rocky until eventually the last of the trees were behind us and we found ourselves surrounded by rocky scrub land. The sun was still warm, but the breeze now had a noticeable bite to it.

Our chatter had stopped, the sound replaced by the steady huffing of breath and the rhythmic crunch of our walking boots. The twins had slowed down, instead of racing off in front of us they were now lagging a few metres behind.

Just under a mile until Sorgvannet, according to the GPS.

“Not long now, less than a mile to go.” I called back to the twins. The only response from them was a couple of grunts and moans.

We walked for just over another twenty minutes before cresting the top of one last rocky ridge. Then, suddenly the landscape opened out before us. My mouth opened in awe, my breath escaping in a soft sigh.

Sorgvannet.

The lake stretched out before us, its calm, pale blue waters shimmering in the afternoon sun.

“Wow!” I heard Tom gasp. His sister standing quietly by his side, her gaze fixed on the mesmerising expanse.

“Now, isn’t that something?” Paul looked at me, a wide smile on his face.

“It’s beautiful!” I replied with a voice that was full of wonder.

We stood there for a few minutes, frozen to the spot. Marvelling at the natural beauty that surrounded us.

Out of nowhere, Paul broke the spell. “Right, let’s get this tent set up!”

Dropping the pack from his shoulders, he unclipped the tent bag that was strapped to it. The children ran over, eager to help him unroll it onto the flat, stony ground.

I watched them as they fed the black poles through the eyes in the canvas and snapped them into place, the tent springing into shape.

I guess he did have some uses, after all.

It was then that I heard it, a muffled, high pitched sound drifting on the wind. My breath hitched in my throat.

“Did you hear that?” I muttered the question more to myself than to anyone else.

“Hear what?” Paul looked up, taking his attention off the tent for a moment.

“I don’t know, it almost sounded like a small child crying.” I looked Paul directly in the eyes.

“You’re hearing things, woman. There’s nobody for miles. It’s probably just the wind,” Paul replied dismissively.

He was probably right. It couldn’t be a child, not all the way out here. Although there was something about that noise, something that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.