The forest is a harsh judge.

Hamara’s words repeated in my head as I slipped down from the boulder and secured the bow across my back. The quiver was tight with moss and the arrows were snug.

It gives each of us what we deserve.

There was no need to move quietly. With the helicopter blades churning the air, lifting the snow into a flurry, no one was going to hear me, so I sprinted along the edge of the hunting ground, keeping out of sight. Dodging through a collection of gaunt silver birch, and leaping over rocks, I skirted around so I was behind the helicopter.

We must know how to listen …

I stopped behind two narrow pines that grew together like twins, and pressed myself close to them. Drawing my knife, I watched the last man climb aboard.

… and fight tooth and nail for our prey.

As soon as he was in, I began to run. My boots were light on the ground despite the whirlwind. Snow and soil and pine needles spun in the air, but I ignored the stinging clouds of grit that battered my face. I gripped my knife tight in my fist and ran, ran, ran.

My eyes were fixed on the freezer. That was my target. I had to get to it before the helicopter took off.

The forest is a harsh judge.

My arms were like pistons; my legs were steel cords.

It gives each of us what we deserve.

I gritted my teeth and summoned all my strength as the helicopter door slid shut.

We must know how to listen …

The freezer was just a few yards away. I was almost there. Not far.

… and fight tooth and nail for our prey.

A couple of paces from the freezer, I launched myself at it, arms outstretched.

I hit it with a solid thud and scrambled on top. My camouflage netting rippled around me and the draught ripped the hat from my head as I slipped the blade of my knife under the first of the green nylon cargo straps. One look at the metal rope securing the box to the underside of the helicopter had told me I had no hope of cutting it, but maybe the cargo straps would be easier. The knife was sharp, but the nylon was tough and I sawed the steel backward and forward, slicing through the material bit by bit.

The helicopter skids lifted off the ground and began to rise higher and higher, taking the steel rope up into the air. As the metal cord tightened, I knew I didn’t have much time. There were four cargo straps to cut through, and only a few more seconds to manage it. My head buzzed with fear and excitement, but the first doubt was beginning to snake in. When I had been running, I hadn’t thought for a second that I wouldn’t succeed, but now it looked certain that I wouldn’t.

The first cargo strap gave way to my knife, splitting apart and flying away in the draught created by the rotors. Immediately, I went to the next one, slipping the blade underneath it, and —

The steel cord tightened against the freezer, making it lurch, and in less than a heartbeat it was off the ground, rising into the air with me still on top of it.

My left hand was gripping the cargo strap so tight that my knuckles had gone white. I stared at it and told my fingers to open. I willed my hand to let go, so that I could drop safely to the earth, but it refused. Fear and determination kept it tight around the cargo strap and nothing I could do would make it open. It was as if my body had decided to stay with the president — to fight tooth and nail for my prey.

Within seconds it was too late anyway. The helicopter was rising quickly.

Without even realizing it I slipped my other hand, still holding the knife, under the cargo strap as far as my elbow. I hooked my whole arm around the strong nylon and hung on for dear life as we rose higher and higher over the forest.

The day Dad first made me jump off the waterfall into Lake Tuonela, I thought I was going to drown. I thought a näkki was going to drag me down to a grim, watery death. I had been terrified. But the fear I had felt that day was nothing compared to what I felt as I hung on to that chest, swinging in the wind as it trailed behind the helicopter. I was frozen by fear, the way a rabbit can be frozen in fear at night if you point a powerful torch at it.

I couldn’t move a muscle. Everything was locked tight. My arms were like stone, clinging on to the cargo straps, and my legs were like a vise, grasping the freezer as if they might crush it. My eyes were squeezed shut so tightly that they hurt.

The wind raced around me, rushing under my jacket, flapping my camouflage, buffeting the freezer chest. Everything seemed to be vibrating and humming and it battered my ears so I couldn’t hear anything except for the roaring rush of it swirling around my head.

For what felt like a very long time, I stayed that way, swinging wildly beneath the helicopter with my eyes shut and nothing going through my head other than fear. But fear like that can’t last forever, and it eventually began to dull. It was still there — I was still afraid — just not as much. Being scared was not going to save my life and it wasn’t going to save the president’s, and as my brain finally started to work properly again, I opened my eyes.

Right away, tears welled up in response to the wind, and they streaked back along my cheeks just like when I had ridden the ATV fast through the forest. I blinked to clear my blurry vision, then took a deep breath of cold, fresh air and forced myself to look around.

The sight of the wilderness below me was awesome. Amazing. Terrifying.

It was the most incredible thing I had ever seen in my life. The treetops sped past beneath me as we headed down the slopes of Mount Akka toward the forested wilderness, a sea that exploded with light and dark green. There was no snow here, though, just a thin mist that hung over the ground among the trees, as if a huge ghost had risen up from the dark soil and spread itself through the forest, obscuring the bracken. Hardly able to take my eyes off it, I looked about, seeing the crags of distant mountains breaking up from the forest and pushing their way into the sky. I saw clouds tinted orange by the sun, and mountain streams glittering like rivers of diamonds.

When I looked up, though, I saw Morris leaning out from the side of the helicopter, looking right at me.

The speed at which we were traveling and the movement of the freezer chest made his face unclear and monstrous. I couldn’t quite make out his features, but he was a picture of fury. His eyes were wide, dark holes, and his mouth was tight and grim as he pointed a submachine gun at me, ready to fire.

A quick rattle and the weapon kicked back at his shoulder, making him shudder. The sound of the wind and the helicopter drowned the shots so they were little more than faint pops, and the swinging of the freezer disrupted his aim, sending his bullets wide. He tried to correct himself, moving the weapon in time with the freezer, ready to fire again, but a pair of gloved hands reached out from inside the helicopter and grabbed him.

It had to be Hazar. I would have recognized those leather gloves anywhere.

Morris looked to his right, shouting something at Hazar, and he tried to pull away. There was a brief struggle before Morris lost his grip on the weapon and it tumbled away, swallowed by the mist that hung in the wilderness below.

Morris grimaced at me, then disappeared into the helicopter, only to be replaced by Hazar, who looked down with a big grin and pointed at me before pointing at the forest below. He waggled his fingers as if he was waving at me and then retreated from view.

As soon as he was gone, the helicopter banked to one side and changed direction. The freezer chest swung out to the opposite direction, moving in a wide arc. I clung on as hard as I could when it changed a second time, banking the other way. The steel rope holding the freezer went slack for a fraction of a second, then snapped taut again, almost throwing me off. My left hand came free of the cargo straps and I slipped to one side, losing the grip I’d had with my legs. Pitching across the freezer, I slid off the side and was left hanging by one arm. The knife, still gripped tightly in my hand, caught me across one cheek with a shallow stinging cut.

They were trying to throw me off. They were going to kill me.

I pulled hard, swinging around to grab hold with my left hand. I managed to grasp the cargo straps and, with a huge effort, dragged myself back onto the freezer — but only just in time for the helicopter to change direction again and drop lower in the sky. This time I swung out to the other side, and even though I was better prepared and managed to stay on, I knew it was only a matter of time before they succeeded.

When the helicopter stabilized, I looked up to see Hazar lean out and glance down at me. He didn’t grin this time; he grimaced and disappeared once more, and the helicopter banked again, making the freezer lurch beneath me.

Once more, my face came close to my knife, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t release my hold on the straps and I couldn’t let the knife go. It was one of my most important possessions. It was also my only means of releasing the freezer chest from the helicopter — something I now realized was not impossible, because in their attempts to shake me off, the helicopter was descending.

The treetops loomed closer and closer and I knew this was my best chance. I couldn’t see the ground, covered in mist as it was, but I was sure that if I could cut through the straps now, it wouldn’t be so far to fall. I could save both the president and myself.

My muscles were aching and my hands were burning, but I tightened my thighs around the freezer and secured my left arm, using my right to slide the knife under one of the three remaining straps. I pulled upward with as much pressure as I could manage, and began sawing at the nylon.

The freezer struck the first treetop with a terrible shudder. It jolted hard and twisted to one side, starting to spin, and I looked up, seeing the world rushing around and around me. My stomach heaved as a feeling of dizzy sickness welled up, but I shook my head and went back to cutting, holding tight with my left hand.

Still the helicopter flew lower, dropping me deeper among the trees, where the mist swirled about in whirlpools, churned by the rotors. Branches slammed against the freezer, bending and snapping. The noise was incredible, as if I was in the center of a hurricane, but I kept on with my task. There was nothing else for me to do. There was nothing else I could do. Hazar was determined to shake me off, but I was not going to abandon my friend. Not when we were so close.

I looked up through the mist and branches and saw a spot in the near distance that would be perfect. There was a rise in the land, a place where no trees grew and the ground was brown with mud. If I could cut the straps as we reached it, there wouldn’t be far for us to fall. Just a few yards into the dirt. If we were lucky, there would be no rocks and we’d have a soft landing.

The nylon strap gave way with a sudden release of tension and I wasted no time in starting on the next one.

Not far now.

I slipped the steel of my blade beneath it and began cutting as the branches whipped against me, stinging and scraping. My eyes were streaming and there was blood on my hands and face, but it was as if I had been possessed by some kind of demon. I was no longer scared; I was angry.

“I’m not going to die!” I screamed at the top of my voice. “I’m not going to die! I’m not going to —”

The freezer slammed into a thick tree trunk with a sickening crunch and my legs lost their grip. I jerked forward, backflipping over the top of the freezer so I buckled against the trunk for a fraction of a second before the helicopter dragged the chest onward, sending it spinning through the trees. My left arm was tight under the cargo strap, and my shoulder felt as if it had been wrenched out of its socket, but I was still secure. My body swung out to one side, though, and when I twisted and reached up to haul myself back onto the freezer, I lost my grip on my knife. It slid across the top of the chest, spinning like a propeller, skittered over the side, and was gone.

Lying facedown on top of the freezer, I knew that all hope was lost now. Without my knife, I would never be able to cut the president free. How could I fight tooth and nail if I didn’t even have my most important weapon? All I could do was wait for the rise in the land beneath and let myself drop; try to save myself.

“I’m sorry, President,” I said, pressing my bloody cheek against the top of the freezer. “I have to go.”

I looked up at the helicopter one last time to see Hazar staring down at me with an ugly smile on his face. He waved again, waggling his fingers, and I turned away from him, something catching my eye. A quick flash of light drawing my attention. My knife. It was right there, wedged against the side of the freezer chest, caught under the last of the cargo straps.

I could still do this!

We were almost at the muddy ground, but there was still time.

I wriggled forward and reached over the side of the freezer, touching my fingertips to the handle of the knife.

Just a little farther.

Stretching as far as I could, I wrapped my fingers around the hilt, and twisted it so the blade was against the nylon. I pushed hard and drew it toward me, feeling it bite into the edge of the strap, making the first cut. Straight away, I forced the knife down again, and frayed edges sprang up as the sharp steel sliced through a section of the nylon.

The freezer smashed into another tree, spinning to the left and swinging out to crash through some smaller branches, but I hung on tight with my left hand and turned the knife so the point was wedged against the hard plastic casing of the freezer. I tried to ignore the sickly feeling of spinning and the battering of the branches clawing at me, and I drew the knife up for the last time.

There was a sense of release. A moment of hanging in the air.

Then we were falling into the mist.