The Raven and the Reindeer

by T. Kingfisher

The Snow Queen could be days and days north of here. She probably is days and days north of here. I’ll have to walk the whole way, and there won’t be farmhouses for most of it. I’ll have to sleep in the woods. And make camp. And build fires. She took a deep breath. She knew how to build a fire in a stove. Presumably it wasn’t that much different from building a fire on the ground. Making camp…well…that was something else again. Her grandmother had taught her any number of things, like embroidery and spinning and plain sewing and some basic knitting. She had started to teach her how to use the great loom that stood in the corner, so that someday Gerta could earn her living as a weaver, if she didn’t marry, or if she outlived her husband as her grandmother had done. And Gerta could cook on a stove and clean nearly anything. All good, useful skills. She’d make someone a fine wife some day. Everybody said so. Making someone a fine wife had not included learning how to sleep in the woods without freezing or getting soaked. This struck Gerta as an enormous and unexpected gap in her education.