Excerpt from The Secret of Snow by Tina Harnesk, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Prologue

1

Tell me the story about the herder who met a háldi, Uncle!"

The boy's voice was bright and insistent, spilling across the floor like a handful of frostbitten lingonberries.

From where she was lying in the next room, Máriddja heard Biera slurp coffee through the lump of sugar between his teeth, followed by the sound of china on wood.

"Ah, you've heard that one plenty of times, but I'll tell it again," he replied with mock resignation.

His wife knew he loved to tell stories. He had inherited that from his parents, who had themselves inherited it from those who'd walked life's path before them. It was their way of remembering, a way for a people without words on paper to leave a mark on an Earth they did their best not to change.

More than anything, Biera loved telling stories to the boy, who was perched on the cushion atop the storage bench in the kitchen, eyes eager yet weary, spinning the birch bark sugar bowl on the table between them. Máriddja tugged at the pillow beneath her cheek, adjusting her plait so that she was lying comfortably in the darkness. She closed her eyes.

She loved his stories, too, especially the ones that were drawn out of him like this: at a child's request. Lying there, she could just picture the distant look in his eye as he searched for the words inside himself, trying to find the young reindeer herder. When Biera eventually managed to locate him, his voice belonged to someone else. It fumbled through the glow of the stove in the kitchen and made its way out into the darkness on the other side of the window. His voice was soon reverberating through the shadows in the room, summoning figures out of the gloom. Máriddja listened as Biera conjured the sound of thudding hooves, reindeer moving across the open landscape, wind tugging at their fur and caressing their muzzles. And there was the herder boy, constantly but silently communicating with his dog, practically running to meet Biera's audience. His lasso swung as he moved across the rocks, his knife smacking against the side of his leg.

"There once was a young reindeer herder…" Biera began, his voice as rich and heavy as a church bell. Each word was clear, filled with the memories of his people. It was impossible to say whether he had been possessed by the force he had invoked, or whether it was Biera himself who possessed that force, the reindeer herder—all of them alive in that moment. Even the old clock on the wall seemed to be holding its breath as he read aloud from a book of stories that had never been written down.

"And that reindeer herder and his dog were out in the mountains one summer, alone with their herd. It was hard work, and they were both tired when they lay down to sleep in the lavvu he'd pitched. The fire had died right down, but hot embers were still smoldering between the rocks. Sleep had almost caught up with the young herder as he lay with his eyes closed and his head on his bag. That was when he heard a scraping sound against the outside of the tent. He opened his eyes, squinting in the half-light, and saw something push against the fabric. The reindeer herder sat up. He could hear bubbling laughter, soft voices—spoken in girls' teasing manner—and as he listened, he saw three silhouettes emerge outside. They were squabbling, and he saw the outline of a body fall against the hide of the tent. A voice said: 'You've been peeping from a distance all day. Go and get a proper look!'

"The reindeer herder realized that the voices outside must belong to háldi girls, for there wasn't another soul for miles. Everyone knew that these secretive creatures were always close by, living side by side with humans, yet only visible to those with the gift. There were countless stories about the vitterfolk—that is what we Sámi call our mysterious cousins—and the young herder had heard every tale passed down through his family. He knew there were ways to make contact with them, to persuade them to stick around.

Excerpted from The Secret of Snow by Tina Harnesk. Copyright © 2026 by Tina Harnesk. Excerpted by permission of Atria Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.