Lost and Found

A Norwegian forest cat leads a pair of abandoned siblings to a welcoming home in the woods.

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On a bitterly cold day in December, two children were out gathering firewood for their stepfather.

“Have we enough, Henrik?” Little Dagny asked her older brother.

“I suppose so,” he replied, bundling the sticks together and tying them with rope. Henrik slung it over his shoulder. “Come, Dagny.”

She followed behind, humming a tune as they headed for the road. Their stepfather had gone hunting and would return before sundown. But as the snowfall thickened and the temperature dropped, Henrik began to worry.

Dagny shivered beneath her woolen cloak. “Where is Stefar?”

“I don’t know, but we cannot linger here.”

“Are we walking back to the village?” she asked through chattering teeth.

“No, we’ll have to build a fire.” Without some sort of shelter, they would surely freeze to death. “We must go back to the woods and get out of this wind.” He took her mittened hand in his as they retraced their footsteps.

Henrik found a grove of thick spruce trees. If the storm gets any worse, we can burrow inside the branches. He cleared the snow from the ground and arranged the sticks the way his mother had taught him. Henrik got out his flint stone, but the spark wouldn’t catch. The wood was too damp.

He removed his woolen coat. “Dagny, hold this overhead like a tent.” Henrik used some dry spruce boughs to kindle the flames into life. Several minutes later, they had a crackling blaze going. The siblings huddled round it.

“Tell me one of Mamma’s stories.”

Henrik thought for a moment. “Once upon a time, there was a fox kit and a forest cat.”

She clapped her hands. “Oh, I love this one!”

Dagny’s enthusiasm lifted his spirits. Even in such dire circumstances, she could still find something to smile about. For a few minutes, they were back inside their mother’s tale… until the howl of a wolf brought them back to the terrifying present.

“They won’t come near the fire, will they, Henrik?” she asked, eyes wide with fear.

“Wolves don’t attack people unless they’re in danger.” Or on the verge of starvation, he added to himself, but he wouldn’t think of that. Henrik’s hand touched the knife at his belt for reassurance. At least I have a weapon to keep us safe.

“There’s something watching us,” Dagny whispered, pointing towards a tree on the other side of the clearing.

Henrik squinted through the snow and caught a flash of glowing eyes low to the ground. “Stay back, you,” he warned, but instead of spooking the creature, his voice seemed to pique its curiosity. The animal stepped away from the tree and trotted towards them.

“Tis a forest cat, like the one in Mamma’s story! Come here, sweet kitty,” she said, clicking her tongue to beckon it closer.

“Hush! It could be wild,” Henrik warned.

“It isn’t. He’s too well-fed.” Dagny walked towards the cat, who meowed in a friendly tone. She removed her mitten to stroke his thick, fluffy fur. The cat rubbed against her woolen skirts. “Let’s follow him and see where he lives!”

“All right. But if we don’t find a house, we’ll have to come back here.”

The cat trailed ahead of them; his bushy tail held aloft like a torch. After several minutes, the spruce trees began to thin, and a small clearing came into view. Henrik sighed in relief when he spotted the log cabin. The cheery plume of smoke drifting from the chimney was a welcoming sight.

Dagny gave a triumphant cheer. “I knew there’d be a house!”

Henrik grinned. “Aye, you were right, little sister.”

The cat sauntered up the walk and took a swipe at something hanging from the doorknob. A tinkling bell broke the silence.

“What a clever kitty he is!” Dagny tugged at Henrik’s arm to hurry him along.

The cat yowled and rang the bell again. The door let out a groan as it struggled against the snow drift. The face of an old woman with reddened cheeks peered back at them.

“Oh my, what’s this? Two children out in this frightful storm?” She pushed the door open wide. “Come in, come in! You’ll catch your death out there!”

A blast of heat engulfed him when he entered the house. It’s warm as an oven in here… Henrik unwound the scarf from his neck. The savory scent of stew made his mouth water. He could even hear it bubbling in the pot over the fire.

“Are you children hungry?” the old woman asked.

“We sure are,” Dagny replied, removing her knitted hat.

“Sit down at the table and I’ll fetch us some bowls.” Henrik thanked her, but she waved it away. “Tis I who should be thanking you. I rarely get any visitors – what with living three miles from the nearest village. Is that where you children are from?”

He nodded. “Our stepfather went hunting, but he never returned. I think something may have happened to him.”

“I can take you back home once the storm lifts. If he isn’t there, some men might organize a search party.”

The old woman set down their food and Henrik tucked right in. The meat was a bit stringy, but the flavorful onions and thick potato wedges made up for it. There was even a slice of soft brown bread slathered with creamy butter.

Dagny chattered while they ate. “It was your cat who led us here. He saved us!”

“Aye, Magnus is curious about everyone and everything. ’Tis gotten him into a scrape or two, I can tell you that,” she added with a chuckle. “But he always makes it through. Tough as a bear, he is.”

“Our Mamma used to tell us a story about a forest cat. When I saw Magnus in the snow, I knew she must have sent him.”

Her expression softened. “I have no doubt she did, min kjaere. Our loved ones never truly leave us, after all.”

Dagny frowned. “But Mamma did leave us; she died of the coughing sickness last year. We miss her very much. Stefar isn’t kind like she was. I don’t think he loves us since we aren’t his children.”

Her words struck like an arrow. And suddenly, Henrik knew the truth. Their stepfather hadn’t been hurt – he’d abandoned them! His fingers tightened furiously around the wooden spoon.

“I’m sure that isn’t so,” the old woman said gently. “Some people let grief harden their hearts because they’re afraid of being hurt again. When my husband died, I retreated to this cottage because I couldn’t bear to see how happy the villagers were. They reminded me of what I had lost, you see. Mayhap it’s the same for your stepfather when he looks at his wife’s children.”

“That doesn’t excuse the way he treated us,” Henrik insisted angrily.

She nodded. “True enough, my lad. I’m only telling you what may have been going through his mind. Loss can make us cold inside.”

A brief silence descended over the table.

“Godmor, did you ever stop being sad?” Dagny asked.

“Aye, that I did. And do you know why? Because a hungry little kitten showed up outside my door. Caring for him was exactly what I needed.” She smiled over at the huge fluffy cat. “Oh, but that was seven winters ago at least! Magnus has grown big and strong since then.”

While Dagny and Godmor continued their chat, Henrik took in his surroundings. The kitchen was small, yet efficient. There was a long table for food preparation, plenty of cabinets, and a brick oven with a little metal door. Dried herbs hung upside down from the beams, making the space feel earthy. He shifted his gaze to the opposite side of the room. The lighting was dim, but he could just make out a bed tucked inside a wall nook.

“I’ll have to arrange a pallet for the pair of you down here,” Godmor said. “I’m afraid the loft is far too dirty to sleep in. These old bones can’t climb the ladder anymore.”

“Henrik and I can clean it tomorrow,” Dagny offered.

“Thank you, min kjaere,” she said, smoothing the blonde curls from his sister’s round face. “That would be much appreciated.” And then she tottered off to fetch some blankets for them.

“Let’s clear away these dishes,” Henrik told his sister. He found a pitcher of water near the sink and did the washing up. It was the least he could do to repay Godmor’s kindness.

Once Henrik had finished, he spotted their makeshift bed. The armchairs had been moved aside to make room in front of the hearth. Dagny burrowed inside the cozy nest of blankets. Magnus curled up beside her, purring loudly.

“You’ve made a new friend, eh, Magni?” Godmor asked with an amused chuckle.

“He has,” Dagny replied, planting a kiss on the top of his fuzzy head. “I already love him. And you, too, Godmor! I’ve always wanted a grandmother.”

“Ah, what a sweet girl you are.” Henrik saw tears sparkling in her gray eyes.

He stood beside her. “Thank you for everything. We would have died if we hadn’t found your home.” Henrik made sure to say that last bit softly, so as not to upset Dagny.

She patted him on the cheek. “You’re welcome, lad. And there’s no need for you to worry anymore. You’re safe here.”

His throat tightened with emotion. He gave a nod before crawling in beside his sister. They said their good nights, and Godmor shuffled off to her own bed in the corner.

“We’ll be fine now, won’t we, Henrik?” his sister whispered across the pillow.

“Of course we will. Sweet dreams.”

Dagny murmured it back, yawning. She was soon asleep, and it didn’t take long for Henrik to follow suit. As his eyelids grew heavy, their mother’s words drifted back to him from the ether… “All you really need in life is a full belly, a warm fire, and pleasant companions to help you through.” He finally understood what she’d meant by that.

* * *

On the following day, Henrik took care of the chores outside. He cleared a path through several feet of sparkling snow, chopped some firewood, and made a festive wreath for the door. Henrik stood back to admire the homely cabin. If I lived here, I’d paint that window trim red and put in some window boxes for Dagny to plant spring flowers in.

Something brushed against his legs. Henrik glanced down to find Magnus gazing up at him with big green eyes. “Hello. I never thanked you, did I? When I go out hunting, I’ll save a bit of meat for you.”

The tabby cat gave an appreciative meow and followed him back inside.

Dagny hurried over with a slice of julekake. “Here, try a piece!”

He bit into the sweet bread. It was still warm from the oven. The nostalgic taste made him remember the last Christmas they’d spent with their mother. Tears welled in his eyes. He tried to blink them away, but one escaped down his cheek.

His sister hugged him round the waist. “It made me remember Mamma too,” she whispered.

Henrik was still wiping at his face when Godmor called out to them. “There’s some cider here if you want it.” The siblings joined her at the table. She gave them a gap-toothed grin. “I love having someone to bake for again. My husband had such a fondness for sweet things.”

“Tell us about him,” Dagny requested.

“Ah, well he wasn’t much for talking, but he always listened to my prattle. Theodor was a wood carver by trade, and he made many fine things to sell at market.”

“I wonder if he carved Mamma’s rose box.”

“Aye, ’tis likely he did, but I’d need to have a look at it.”

“You shall once we go back to the village.” Dagny glanced at her brother. “Henrik, must we stay with Stefar? He doesn’t want us, and Godmor says she likes having children around.”

“We’ll see.”

The siblings spent two more days at the cabin. Every evening, they gathered round the fire to hear new tales of adventure and wonder. Henrik even started to think of the old woman as their grandmother. Neither he nor Dagny wanted to leave, but Godmor needed some supplies, and the weather was too fine for them to put it off another day.

Their appearance caused quite the stir when they arrived in the village several hours later.

“We thought you’d moved away!” cried a playmate of Henrik’s.

“What do you mean?”

“Your stepfather left in the night. Just packed up and took everything!”

A leaden weight settled in the pit of his stomach. “Our cottage is empty?”

“Aye, all except for the furniture,” said another child.

Rage churned inside him. “That man had no right to take my mother’s things!”

Godmor placed a hand on his shoulder. “Steady on, lad.”

“He couldn’t have taken the rose box,” Dagny piped up. “I hid it beneath the floorboards.”

She ran ahead of them. The cottage was cold and empty… a mere shell of the home it had once been. His mother’s quilts, the hand painted dishes – all gone. Henrik walked over to the trunk at the foot of his bed. He lifted the lid and found their clothing still inside.

Dagny skipped over to him; the carved box clutched in her hands. “He didn’t take the most important thing! See, I saved Mamma’s portrait and Papa’s watch and this.” Dagny held up a little heart-shaped necklace. It had been a wedding gift from their father, but she’d put it away after getting remarried.

“You should wear it, Dagny. Here, I’ll help you with the clasp,” Henrik said, securing it round her neck.

She beamed up at him. The resemblance to their mother was uncanny – right down to her sweet smile and laughing blue eyes. I don’t need Mamma’s things to remember her, he realized. Dagny is the best reminder there is.

Godmor ran a gnarled finger over the rose carving. “Aye, ’tis my husband’s work, sure enough. It warms my heart to see it again.” She gave them a watery smile. “Come, children. It’s Julaften, and we have much to get for our feast!”

“Does that mean we can return home with you, Godmor?” Dagny asked hopefully.

“Of course, min kjaere. I can hardly do without the pair of you now.”

And so, Henrik and Dagny left the house not as unwanted orphans, but as beloved grandchildren. It would be a happy Christmas, indeed.

~~~~~

Author’s note: I hope you enjoyed this festive little story 😊 It was loosely based on Hansel and Gretel, but I put my own spin on it by changing the setting to Norway and making the old woman a kindly grandma instead of a cannibal witch. If you have any children (or know anyone who does), please share this tale with them. Winter is the perfect time to gather round the fireplace and read cozy stories together. Sending you my warmest wishes during the most wonderful of seasons. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!