vigorously and stood taller. "I'm fine. I won't get cold. I'm not a baby, Marit. I don't need a blanket."
"Oh, no, I was thinking, um, for Tekopp. Maybe he wants to go for a boat ride with us. You could go find him and bring him along. He'd like that, don't you think?"
His eyes widened. Without a word, he ran back to the house and returned with Tekopp, wrapped up in their puffy
dyne.
"Aunt Ingeborg wouldn't want this outside."
"I know. We'll be careful."
The Resistance soldier would be a fool to climb into a rescue boat with two kids and a cat. But she had promised she'd be there. She had no choice, and she doubted he had other choices.
In the lengthening shadows, they headed down the road to the boathouse.
To Marit's relief, Bestefar's trawler had not yet returned. She poked her head into his boathouse and was met with the smells of oil, decaying rope, old barrels, and fish. Assured that her grandfather was nowhere near, Marit stepped to the rowboat.
The sun shot a fireball of red across the water. Marit breathed in deeply, hoping for courage, then she lifted
the rowboat's bow and pushed. The stern eased onto the water as she held the bow. "Climb in."
Carefully, with his overly bundled cat, Lars crawled over the middle seat to the stern, a big smile on his face. "Let's be Vikings! Let's hunt down the
kraken!
"
"Why would we want to find a sea monster?" Marit asked, hoping to keep his mind occupied.
"We could tame it. Make it our pet! And then it would protect us, even when Mama and Papa are far away." Perched on his seat, with the
dyne
covering his knees, Lars snuggled his face into Tekopp's amber fur.
"Sure," Marit said. "We can pretend."
The water glittered dark with rubies as Marit rowed. They headed from the harbor to the lighthouse, but this time she kept rowing past the end of the peninsula. Two German soldiers huddled beside the lighthouse, out of the wind, their cigarettes glowing.
One of them looked up as they rowed past. He must have decided they looked harmless, and shaped carefree smoke rings that floated up, circle after circle, and disappeared in the air.
"Marit," Lars whispered, "we're not supposed to go past the breakwater. Are we really looking for sea monsters?"
"We are."
Off toward the open water, porpoises arced, diving in and out of the gray waves. "See them?" she asked.
As Lars turned, the porpoises skimmed the surface, dived, and were gone. His jaw slackened. "Sea monsters!" he whispered, with enough awe in his voice that Marit didn't know if he was playing along or truly believing in impossible creatures.
"
Ja,
" Marit said, leaning toward him. "And they may have injured a Viking long ago somewhere along the coast. If we find someone, we must be very quiet and help him."
"A Viking?"
Marit nodded. "He may not look like a Viking. They don't always wear their metal helmets or carry long swords. But he would speak Norwegian, just like us."
"Keep watch, Tekopp," Lars said, "a Viking."
Beneath the water, boulders lay visible and some broke from the water. Marit rowed closer to shore, careful to avoid rocks that could rip open the bottom of their wooden boat or hold it fast in place like a beached sea turtle. They rounded a bend and reached the beach where trees met the shoreline.
Marit began to sing aloud, "Oh, Viking, Viking, where are you?"
Lars looked at her with an expression of wonder and respect.
Rowing parallel to the shore, well beyond the lighthouse and its guards, Marit sang out again, "Oh, Viking, Viking, where are you?"
A flock of oystercatchers worked the beach, poking their orange pencil beaks in and out of crevices. Again she sang out and glided forward. A few of the birds, their black-and-white feathers sharply contrasting with the gray light, scuttled away from her approaching boat.
A haze of movement caught her attention. Onshore, easing from behind a boulder, the injured Resistance soldier stumbled toward them, his face milky white. Bent nearly in half, he
"Oh, no, I was thinking, um, for Tekopp. Maybe he wants to go for a boat ride with us. You could go find him and bring him along. He'd like that, don't you think?"
His eyes widened. Without a word, he ran back to the house and returned with Tekopp, wrapped up in their puffy
dyne.
"Aunt Ingeborg wouldn't want this outside."
"I know. We'll be careful."
The Resistance soldier would be a fool to climb into a rescue boat with two kids and a cat. But she had promised she'd be there. She had no choice, and she doubted he had other choices.
In the lengthening shadows, they headed down the road to the boathouse.
To Marit's relief, Bestefar's trawler had not yet returned. She poked her head into his boathouse and was met with the smells of oil, decaying rope, old barrels, and fish. Assured that her grandfather was nowhere near, Marit stepped to the rowboat.
The sun shot a fireball of red across the water. Marit breathed in deeply, hoping for courage, then she lifted
the rowboat's bow and pushed. The stern eased onto the water as she held the bow. "Climb in."
Carefully, with his overly bundled cat, Lars crawled over the middle seat to the stern, a big smile on his face. "Let's be Vikings! Let's hunt down the
kraken!
"
"Why would we want to find a sea monster?" Marit asked, hoping to keep his mind occupied.
"We could tame it. Make it our pet! And then it would protect us, even when Mama and Papa are far away." Perched on his seat, with the
dyne
covering his knees, Lars snuggled his face into Tekopp's amber fur.
"Sure," Marit said. "We can pretend."
The water glittered dark with rubies as Marit rowed. They headed from the harbor to the lighthouse, but this time she kept rowing past the end of the peninsula. Two German soldiers huddled beside the lighthouse, out of the wind, their cigarettes glowing.
One of them looked up as they rowed past. He must have decided they looked harmless, and shaped carefree smoke rings that floated up, circle after circle, and disappeared in the air.
"Marit," Lars whispered, "we're not supposed to go past the breakwater. Are we really looking for sea monsters?"
"We are."
Off toward the open water, porpoises arced, diving in and out of the gray waves. "See them?" she asked.
As Lars turned, the porpoises skimmed the surface, dived, and were gone. His jaw slackened. "Sea monsters!" he whispered, with enough awe in his voice that Marit didn't know if he was playing along or truly believing in impossible creatures.
"
Ja,
" Marit said, leaning toward him. "And they may have injured a Viking long ago somewhere along the coast. If we find someone, we must be very quiet and help him."
"A Viking?"
Marit nodded. "He may not look like a Viking. They don't always wear their metal helmets or carry long swords. But he would speak Norwegian, just like us."
"Keep watch, Tekopp," Lars said, "a Viking."
Beneath the water, boulders lay visible and some broke from the water. Marit rowed closer to shore, careful to avoid rocks that could rip open the bottom of their wooden boat or hold it fast in place like a beached sea turtle. They rounded a bend and reached the beach where trees met the shoreline.
Marit began to sing aloud, "Oh, Viking, Viking, where are you?"
Lars looked at her with an expression of wonder and respect.
Rowing parallel to the shore, well beyond the lighthouse and its guards, Marit sang out again, "Oh, Viking, Viking, where are you?"
A flock of oystercatchers worked the beach, poking their orange pencil beaks in and out of crevices. Again she sang out and glided forward. A few of the birds, their black-and-white feathers sharply contrasting with the gray light, scuttled away from her approaching boat.
A haze of movement caught her attention. Onshore, easing from behind a boulder, the injured Resistance soldier stumbled toward them, his face milky white. Bent nearly in half, he
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