Sunrays peeked through the dense treetops and glistened on a fen gurgling with fresh water. Hearing the happy sound, Odin remembered Punga’s advice and, knowing the water was safe, stopped to quench his thirst. Perfumed scents drifting from orchids and the woodsy odor of peat moss lingered in the air, nipping at his senses. Now accustomed to the orchids’ tempting fragrance, he could ignore their bewitching power. He kept a sharp eye out for bladderworts floating on black water.
Daylight sent Punga into his friend’s beard to sleep, leaving Odin feeling he was on his own. He was not sure what to search for, or what direction to take. Frustrated, his thoughts took him to Mt. Grieg. He longed for the cool crispness of mountain air and the clean scent of pine needles. He especially missed the comfort of his cave and its walls of glittering crystals.
Breaking into Odin’s thoughts, a raven chattered and whistled from the treetops. Then, flapping his long wings, he weaved through the foliage above Odin’s head. Odin recognized Laelia’s friend, the ancient raven. He was grateful that the clever raven appeared and seemed to be giving him some clue as to how to proceed. Odin followed the old raven’s slow flight through the bog.
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As night darkened the woods, the raven was lost in its blackness. Odin, with Punga now wide awake on his shoulder, continued in the same direction hoping to find the raven again. When dark clouds formed and hid the stars’ brilliant sparkle, Odin, surrounded by night’s uncertainty, stopped where he was and kept very still. How he hated the night.
Forcing her way through clouds, the kind moon’s bold smile lit up the black of night. The dark silence vanished when Odin heard the whisper of leaves stirring in the wind and the fluttering of the raven’s wings. Catching an updraft under his wings and rising into the sky in easy spirals, the raven suspended his body above Odin. Calling out in his hoarse croak, he moved off in a new direction. Odin and Punga followed the raven for some time until he once again circled overhead. Reaching the spot over which the raven hovered, Odin understood the old bird was trying to tell him something.
In a moonlit clearing, Odin found the crimson orchid. He knew this rare and beautiful flower would have been irresistible to Laelia. Lying next to the orchid was a tuft of rabbit fur. Sweet scents from the bay tree could not disguise the odor of the stupefying juices squeezed from the blue lily and soaked into the fur. A troll’s heavy tail dragging across the ground left tracks heading deeper into the blackness of the bog. The wise raven had led them to the site of the kidnapping, a point from which they could start their search. When Odin looked up, the raven was gone.