“The bridge!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “We’re at the bridge!”
Carefully, she knelt, settling Eva on the ground; the little girl’s eyelashes were glued together with sticky ice, so Raina gently tried to melt the ice with her own frozen thumb until she realized she was rubbing the child’s cheeks raw. But Eva was finally able to open her eyes; she looked dazed, stupid. Raina tugged at Enid’s arms, and the child slid down off of her. “See the footbridge, Enid?”
Enid, her face pinched with fatigue, nodded.
“We have to cross it, and you get to be the first! I’ll let you children cross first in case it can’t hold up for us all, and then somehow I’ll get over and we’ll race to Tor’s house, where I bet there will be cookies and a hot fire! Don’t you want to be the first one there?”
Enid nodded, but looked terrified. With so much chaos swirling about, this bridge—it barely deserved the name, for in the summertime the children could leap over the creek, skip across the planks, it would be a lark, a game. But now it seemed a bridge to eternity itself; the far side was missing, the destination appearing to vanish into the angry heavens.
“Go slowly, Enid. Just put one foot in front of the other.”
Enid took a big breath, and she put one tiny foot on the edge of the board; a gust of wind nearly pushed her over but Raina grabbed her just in time, snatching the little girl back. These little ones couldn’t do it, they wouldn’t make it. She and Tor would have to carry each of them across.
Raina untied the apron string from her waist, shouted for the others to do the same. Tor came huffing up, Sofia clinging to his back, Rosa in his arms. He set the girls down.
“How far is it once we get over the bridge?” Raina asked, struggling for breath. All of a sudden, she felt as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen inside her lungs; she was dizzy in an already-swirling landscape. She reached out for something to steady her, and Tor grabbed her arms so she didn’t topple over.
They both stood that way, gasping for breath, linked together, for a moment that was both too brief and too long; there was not a second to be spared. The storm—the withering cold, the gravelly, icy snow, the exertion it had taken to get this far—was taking its toll on them all. Especially the children.
“It’s about twenty yards,” Tor said. “But we have to be careful; there’s a gap between the barn and the house and if we miss either of them, we’re back out on the prairie.”
“I saw the lights in all the windows, back there. Hopefully we’ll be able to see them again once we’re closer. But we have to carry the little ones across the bridge, they’re just too weak to do it on their own.”
Tor nodded, picked up Sofia, who flung her arms about his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. “I’ll go first.”
He started across the bridge, one foot carefully feeling for the board. It was only about five feet across but once he got in the middle, an enormous gust pummeled him and he began to sway; Raina cried out.
But he bent his head down and remained upright; through the curtain of weather, Raina could just barely see that he scooted toward the end of the bridge and quickly set Sofia down on the other side, instructing her to remain where she was, not to move an inch. Then he was back across the bridge, reaching for Rosa, who shook her head and started to cry.
“No, no, no!” she screamed, and the poor thing was so tired, so disoriented, she tried to fight Tor off. But the young man patiently picked her up anyway and started back over the bridge on wobbly legs. Raina held her breath, but a taunting gust of wind blew up more snow that obscured him; she couldn’t see if he made it, she could only wait. It seemed to her she didn’t breathe at all until he was back. His eyes were tearing up and he had to keep rubbing them so they wouldn’t freeze. His ears—uncovered since he’d given his scarf to Sofia—were dangerously purple, and Raina worried that there would be permanent damage. He was reaching out to get Enid when Raina stopped him; he had to rest.