“The prettiest part of the country, in my opinion. It’s the only place on the island where the land is off limits. There are guards that protect that side of the country, round-the-clock security.”
“Why’s it so important?”
“It’s where the birch forest exists, the only remaining indigenous trees on the island, as well as the sacred moss that takes over one thousand years to grow. The area is lush and green and free of any volcanic activity. It’s pure in nature, one of the prettiest sights you’ll ever see. Like . . . nirvana in the middle of a desolate, lava rock-filled land.”
“Sounds dreamy. Do they do tours?”
“Yes, but only electric vehicles are allowed near the east side. They’re trying to preserve nature the best they can.”
“I love that. So, I’m assuming the east side is your favorite?”
I shake my head. “The prettiest, by far, but my favorite part of the country? We’re in it right now.”
“The southern peninsula? Why?”
“My parents took me here on their days off. We fished off the coast, camped down by the hot springs, and enjoyed the outdoors. I have a lot of memories down here.”
“Where are your parents now?” she asks.
I look out to the ocean and quietly say, “They passed when I was twelve. A fire occurred in the servant quarters, and they couldn’t get out.”
“Oh my God.” She grips my hand in hers. “Keller, I’m so sorry. That must have been horrific.”
“It’s in the past,” I say, clearing my throat and sitting taller. “Not something I talk about.”
“Well, if anyone understands what it means to lose their parents, I have experience, so if you ever need to talk—”
“I’m fine, Lilly,” I say, sharper than I want while releasing my hand from hers. “Now, about the north.”
“Keller,” she says softly, while grabbing my hand again.
I let out a giant sigh and look her in the eyes, knowing she’s not going to drop this. “Lilly, I’m fine, okay? I don’t talk about it, because when I do, it dredges up old memories that haunt me. So, please, just drop it.”
She nods, thankfully. “Okay.” Then she says, “The north, what’s there?”
“The volcanoes and glaciers,” I say, realizing she’s still holding my hand, and for some stupid reason, I let her.
At least I got her to change the subject so I don’t have to relive that horrendous day.
“It’s called kulning.”
“Kulning,” she says, testing the word on her tongue. “And if you do it the right way, a herd of sheep will flock in from miles away?”
“Not quite. It’s used only by farmers.”
“Have you ever tried it to see if it will attract sheep?”
“No.”
“Then you don’t know.” She sits up on her knees, takes a deep breath, and—
“What the hell are you about to do?”
She glances down at me where I’m lying on one of the pillows, looking up at the blue sky.
“I’m about to call the sheep. You know, make that kunnn-nuuuu sound. I have quite the vocal range.”
“Great, but we don’t need you making that sound while we’re attempting to lay low.”
“Who could really hear it? We’ve been up here for over an hour and we haven’t seen one life form. The only company we have are your surly attitude and those white birds that keep eyeing us like we’re a late-night snack.”
“Surly attitude?”
“Yeah. Very unpredictable. Makes me think we should put Torskethorpe on hold and dive deeper into the man training me.” She pokes my chest.
“That’s not happening.”
“Oh, come on. Give me a break for a second. I think I deserve it after you told me about the history of kulning. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just . . . you know, not my cup of tea, especially since you won’t let me try it.” When I don’t answer her, she pokes my side again. “Please, Keller.”
I heave a heavy sigh. “Fine, you get three questions.”
“Oh, yay, that’s more than I expected. But you need to ask me questions, too. Okay, this is a little get-to-know-you sesh.”
“Fine,” I say, exasperated.
“Calm down, dude, don’t get too excited.”
I crack a smile and glance away so she can’t see it. Maybe she’s right. Maybe a brief break will be good for us. Refresh the mind—plus, there’s been something I’ve wanted to ask her for a bit.