My fellow Write Practice Story Cartel member: Rebecka Jäger, Author of The Unholy Warrior.
GIVES HER VIEW ON THE SUBJECT: How to Bring the Magic of Nature into Your Writing
I drive with my team of eight husky dogs somewhere in Northern Finland. It’s a night ride. A fresh layer of snow rained during a windy day which molded the effortless stuff into sleek dunes. The night is staggering bright with a full moon.
My dogs are panting. The light birch wood race sled runs smoothly. It weighs only twenty-two pounds and I produce one-hundred and ten more. We move incredibly fast.
The silvery moonlight reflects from the tiny crystals of the powder snow. I put out my headlamp when I reach the curve which leads into the snow-covered heart of the pine and fir tree forest. I slow down into a standstill with the soft mat brake and order the dogs to wait. I push the anchor into the deep bank with my heavy boot. The dogs jump up and down when they understand that we are going nowhere.
I yell the order “stop!” repeatedly but half of my team consists of young dogs still in training. They yank their harnesses in agitation. The white bitch, Omen, keeps bouncing up and down with all her paws in the air.
“Why are we stopping?” She seems to ask with her light blue eyes as she gazes back at me.
But I don’t give in. They must learn to wait to earn rank.
My breath puffs up in clouds. I remove my Canada Goose Expedition parka hood. I gaze up.
The Aurora Borealis lights up the sky with elusive neon green. Each inch of the black velvet is filled with stars. I take off my down stuffed mitten and my hand becomes numb in seconds. It’s freezing: minus twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit. I track the outlines of the Milky Way with my index finger…
I feel the touch of God on my face.
I’m pulled out of it as Ferro, the young male, releases a sorrowful wail which can be heard for miles. Standing put is against his eager nature. His father reprimands him by standing steadfast with spread legs while the youngster yanks the ropes again. A disapproving look from the older husky’s amber eyes stops him from moving.
I pray that the harnesses can hold their strength. My huskies are lean but muscular. Each one seems to have a built-in nuclear power plant. They are molded for the race. I smile in admiration and release the anchor.
(We say drive in Finland, not “Mush!”)
They move faster than my thoughts and I’m in heaven.
You can find out more about Rebecka on her webpage: https://rebeckajager.com/blog/