Close to the Heel by Norah McClintock

Author:Norah McClintock [McClintock, Norah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General Fiction, JUV013000, JUV028000, JUV030050
ISBN: 9781554699520
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Jonina was right. Barnafoss wasn’t far. When I got there, a bunch of tourists were trekking from it to their tour bus. The only vehicle around was a Jeep with a pretty girl at the wheel talking into a cell phone. I got out of the car and started for the falls. There was a clear path and guide chains everywhere, presumably to keep tourists away from the edge of the falls and the river.

I stopped at a large display board to read about the falls—it said pretty much what Jonina had told me. The trail branched in a couple of directions to allow different vantage points of the falls. I followed the one that led to the highest point. The terrain was rocky—all terrain in Iceland seemed to be rocky, but when I got up high enough, it changed from rough footing to enormous swirls, as if someone had poured liquid rock all over the ground and it had suddenly cooled. I’d never seen anything like it. I kept climbing, looking down at the rock all the way. When I got to where the chain was at the top, I stepped over it and kept going, drawn now by the head of the falls. I think that’s why I didn’t notice the figure at the very top, right near the edge of the rock overlooking the water, until it was too late.

She rose from where she had been sitting behind some scrubby growth.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

I almost fell backward when she jumped up like that.

“Jeez, you scared me,” I said.

“What are you doing here?”

Great. She was in one of those moods again—queen of the world taking her problems out on the lowly peasant boy.

“Seeing the sights,” I said. “Jonina at the tourist information center told me this place has quite a history. She gave me this.” I held up the map.

“Jonina!” Brynja snorted. “Is that all she gave you?”

Meow!

“What about you? What are you doing up here when your friend is waiting down there for you?” I asked.

“Johanna understands,” she said.

She sank back down and sat cross-legged on a huge swirl of rock and stared out over the raging torrent below. I looked down. It was a long drop into the water that swept almost immediately through several narrow, rocky channels before falling again over another enormous lip of rock. Freyja had said the body was bruised. If Gudrun had fallen from up here—or if she had jumped or been pushed—her body must have been more than bruised; it must have been battered.

“Aren’t you freezing sitting on that rock?” I asked.

Brynja looked up at me in annoyance.

“Are you still here?” she said in a tone calculated to drive any normal person away. Too bad for her, I’m not a normal person. I have a pig head. At least, that’s how the Major puts it. His English is terrific—except for some of the more idiomatic expressions. He doesn’t cover all the bases; he covers them up. For him, things sell like pancakes, not hotcakes.

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