The Darkness Knows

60

As Villi came to, he sensed someone approaching, slowly and warily, through the storm. He heard the crunching of footsteps and what sounded like laboured breathing. He opened his eyes to slits but couldn’t see anyone, only darkness and blinding snow. Yet he had the feeling that someone was there with him, that he wasn’t alone, and the knowledge comforted him.

When he surfaced again, a moment or two later, he saw that someone was kneeling beside him, holding his hand, and he felt warmth on his cold fingers and a warm palm stroking his forehead.

Although he couldn’t see who it was, he felt a strange sense of peace settling over him and relief that he wasn’t alone any more, that someone was there to protect and take care of him.

Next time he awoke, he was able to recognise the figure as the old woman who lived on his street. She had taken pity on him and he could hear her saying something, some words of comfort that touched him, and he felt that everything would be all right now because she was there to take care of him. He tried to tell her about the man who had run him down; how in that split-second glimpse of him hunched over the wheel, he’d known it was the man he’d been talking to at the bar; the man from Öskjuhlíd.

‘I’m... cold,’ he whispered.

The woman laid his head in her lap. ‘Hush-a-bye, baby,’ she said.

His strength was running out. Somewhere far away he heard the woman crooning a refrain from an old nursery rhyme.

Then all went quiet.

‘My poor baby,’ the woman whispered. ‘Oh, my poor little boy...’