The wintry landscape sparkled white and blue, tinged with orange and pink, in the fading rays of dying sunlight. Lone footprints marred the pure snow, lead from a large wooden sleigh drawn by a strange, wolf-like beast, an Ekeru, out into the distance.

The air was still, save for the cry of one voice alone. “Keeya!”

A girl, fifteen winters old, stood in the plain, calling. She was dressed in heavy leather clothing, lined with brownish-gray fur. The hood of her jacket was lowered, revealing a waist-length golden braid. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and her eyes sparkled a bright, clear blue as she called out the name.

“Keeya! Keeya, where are ye?” she cried, but received no answer. She let out a huffy breath, causing a small cloud of white fog to roil in front of her face before it vanished. “Merrho!” she cursed. “I’ve been out here for half an hour, now, and the stupid bird hasn’t come back.”

The wolf-like creature hitched at her sleigh yipped, then let out a short bark. Reluctantly the girl sighed and trudged back to the beast. It stood as high as her shoulder, with white fur that blended almost perfectly with the surroundings. Its bright amber eyes were a stark contrast to its coat, intelligent in its long face.

“Silly Inai,” the girl said and scratched the Ekeru’s ears. The animal’s eyes narrowed lazily and there was a content rumbling from deep in its throat. “I guess we should go home, neh? Mother and Father will be worried.”

Again, she sighed. Her father had warned her that her gyrfalcon wasn’t yet ready to be flown without a lead attached to her jesses. Ah, had she only listened to him. Naïve, she knew. Now they had a hunting bird less. She didn’t even want to hear the end of it.

After casting a glance at the ever-sinking sun, she climbed onto the board behind the sled. “Delot!” she commanded loudly, clucking her tongue. Move. “Delot, Inai! Home!”

The Ekeru started forward with a short yip, causing the sled to jerk for a moment, before it began to move smoothly. Smiling with satisfaction the girl held onto the handles more tightly, watching the ground and landscape speed by so quickly that it faded to a crystalline blur.

Day had already faded, given way to the faint silver glow of the moon, by the time the first golden lights of the village danced in the distance. The girl shivered because of the cold wind that whipped her face and hair; she let go of the sled just long enough to pull the fur-lined hood of her parka over her head.

“Delot, micala!” she shouted urgently at the Ekeru. Move faster, hurry.

She knew she would be in a good deal of trouble for being late. Her parents didn’t like her being out after dark, especially not in winter, when the sun rose late and sank early. But the fact she was late would probably be insignificant, considering how she had deliberately loosed her gyrfalcon; even though she had known it had been partially untrained.

The wooden buildings were dark shadows against the midnight blue sky, with warm yellow light streaming out from the windows. The Ekeru slowed its pace as it moved through them. The girl heard laughter and friendly voices as she passed them, and immediately felt something inside of her stir in answer. It reminded her that she couldn’t wait to get out of the cold, and into her own house.

“Ho, Inai,” she said. The creature came to a full stop, and she jumped off her perch, leaving deep footprints next to the sled marks.

A high-pitched shriek sounded from above, sounding as if it were going in circles. The girl sighed and lifted her right arm above her head whilst she held the harness of her Ekeru in her other hand. Moments later, a bluish white bird landed on her offered forearm, wings fluttering as it settled down.

The girl scowled lightly at her gyrfalcon, which cocked its head inquisitively, as if not knowing what caused this expression from her mistress. “Keeya!” the girl scolded. “Why don’t you come when I call you? Aye, I was already fearin’ I’d lost ye. Shame on you.”

The gyr merely preened its wing, never giving her an answer. Frustrated, the girl shook her head and started for the door of her house, motioning her Ekeru to follow.

Warmth and the bright shine of the fire greeted her as she entered. Her grandmother was seated in her old rocking chair by the fireplace, decked in multiple quilts and fur blankets. Her father, as she saw, had his back turned to the door as he stared out one of the windows, into the darkness.

Yet he turned around when he heard the door open. “Ah, Hela, there ye are. We’ve been worrying,” he said after removing his pipe from his mouth.

“Aye, forgive me.” The girl, Hela, shook her arm, making Keeya beat her wings furiously before she was forced to remove herself from her perch. It was then that Hela shed her parka and heavy boots, both of which were heavy with snow. “Keeya decided to go stray on me for a while. ‘Tis alright now, she’s back.”

Apparently her father knew what she had done wrong, for he inquired the matter no further. “Have ye gotten everything your mother wanted?”

Hela nodded, then began brushing Inai’s paws off to rid them of bits of ice and snow. “Aye. ‘Tis all still outside, I’ll be gettin’ it right away.”

Her father shook his head, motioning her to remain inside when she made to go back outside and fetch the things. “Nay, I’ll do it.” With that, he pulled on his own boots and vanished in the darkness.

Once she was finished with her task, Hela rose and, as quietly as she could, walked over to her grandmother. She frowned when she saw the old woman was staring at the fire, yet at nothing at the same time, a blank look on her face.

“Grannee?” Hela asked quietly as she kneeled in front of her grandmother. “Grannee, are ye alright?”

“Hela, ye know she won’t hear ye right now.” Her mother appeared in the doorway of the room she shared with her husband, wiping her hands on her apron. “Wallowing in her memories, thinking of her younger days.” She laughed. “But aye, don’t we all.”

Her daughter shrugged and shifted away, closer to the fire. Inai padded over and lay down next to his mistress, and Hela leaned against his warm fur, beginning to doze off. But she was jerked from this fragile state by the sound of her father lugging boxes into the house.

Hela gently ran her hand through her Ekeru’s fur, ever so slightly rocking back and forth as she observed the flickering dance of the flames in the fireplace. Only whence her name was uttered did she look up. “Aye?”

“Hela, child.” The voice was old, weary. Ancient secrets and wisdoms seemed to echo in the mere sound of it. Hela looked at her grannee, whose deep old eyes reflected every move the fire made in its hearth as she gazed thoughtfully over her blankets. “Have I ever told ye how we humans came to have fire?”

The girl tilted her head slightly at her ancestor. “Nay, ye haven’t.”

Her grannee was silent for a few moments. “Aye,” she said with a heavy sigh. “’Tis a long tale to be told. Long ago, when we were a mere babe of a race, the gods still dwelled amongst us.”

Hela leaned back against Inai, who grumbled affectionately. Her grannee seldom spoke; only to utter words and sentences twisted into nigh unsolvable riddles. It was a rare treat if she told a story, no matter how often she had heard it before.

“Enjoyed toying with us, they did, the gods. Some of them for the worse, some for the better. Aye, some of the gods loathed us. But there were also those who loved us.

“Arnora, for one, the goddess of the skies who took the shape of a gyr, loved humans. It amused her how humans were so busy, so concerned with how much time they spent on their doings. How aware we are that our time to walk the earth is limited.” The old woman gave Keeya a pointed look, which didn’t bother the bird in the least. She just continued to preen her feathers.

“Hela, the goddess of the night, had the urge to protect us. She, with the shape of the Ekeru, pitied us. We, who walk on two legs, and have no fur, no teeth and no claws to defend ourselves. Merely a mind that lets us think,” the story continued. “But where the tale really begins . . .

“’Twas in the beginning, when all and everything had just been made. The cycle of seasons neared its first completion, summer faded to autumn, and finally to winter. Aye, harsh times for the humans, who had no pelt of their own to keep them from freezing. ‘Twas then that the two goddesses Hela and Arnora began to fret.

“‘The humans cannot fend for themselves. They have not a pelt of fur, like my children. Nor have they claws and teeth. They will all die from the cold!’ said Hela when she saw them shiver.

“‘Aye, Hela,’ agreed Arnora and sighed mournfully. ‘But alas, what shall we do?’ asked she.

“Even the wise Hela knew not the solving to this riddle. The two goddesses pondered and thought and argued, but could not find an answer. Finally the day came to an end, and it was Hela’s time to run free in the world she had helped create.

“As she ran under the silver moon with her pack of Ekeru, they came upon the god Freyvid, the god of fire. He and his spirits were dancing around a large bonfire, and the light and heat touched even Hela on her run.

“The goddess was curious, and came closer. ‘Hail, Freyvid!’ called she. ‘What is it that burns so merrily in your midst?’

“‘’Tis fire!’ said the other. ‘To guide our way at night!’”

The old woman was smiling now, as she told the myth. Hela knew she was thinking of what happened next. When her grannee told her tales, she always smiled when she spoke of the Ekeru goddess and her mischief.

“Hela looked on for a while yet, until the break of dawn called for her to retreat. Swiftly she ran to Arnora and told her of what she had seen. Both the goddesses wanted the humans to live, and now they knew by what means.

“But ‘twas Hela, sly as she was, the trickster, who made a plan. The next night, she ran straight to where she had last seen Freyvid, and found him there. The god was merrily dancing around his fire when she came.

“‘Hail, Freyvid!’ said Hela once more. ‘Will ye show me how to make such a wondrous thing?’

“Freyvid was pleased to hear such praise from such a wise goddess, and didn’t refuse her. He showed her how to make flame from wood, and Hela watched and learned. And before the night was over, she had visited a human in his dream and shown him the same.”

Grannee laughed now, for the first time in a long while. “Aye, Freyvid was not pleased to learn his secret had fallen into human hands,” she answered her granddaughter’s unspoken question. “Alas, no matter how long and far he chased her, Hela was too quick and sly for him. She laughed in his face, and he chased her until he could no more.” She nodded wisely. “Quick and brave and wise. That’s what the goddess Hela was. Just like your friend there.”

Hela glanced down at Inai, who had fallen asleep and was snoring contently. Affectionately she ran hand over the Ekeru’s fur. “Yes.”

“Treasure him well, child. Be like him and the goddess you’re named after.” The old woman leaned back in her chair, and in an instant, she was distant beyond reach again.

Hela smiled and curled up against Inai. “I will, grannee. I will.”