July 8, 2025

Yule Cat

Agla slowly released the sheep, and it bucked, kicking its legs out and hopping to its feet. She watched as it trodded out the barn door and back to its family, their bodies stiff against the corral as if they knew it was shearing day. As the late mid-December wind kicked up, Agla shoved some of her silvery hair back underneath her headscarf. Surveying the fluffy mound of sheep hair around her bent legs, she gradually stood up. Before she had straightened herself, a swift shadow approached. 
Agla tried to reach for it, but it was too fast. “Ignes! Those are mine! I sheared the sheep myself,” She said.
“Thank you, cousin, for making it easy for me,” Ignes said as he tried to juggle with the clumps that threatened to fall over his grasping arms.
“Gryla’s cat is going to go after you!”
“The Yule Cat? You are twelve; are you not too old to believe in such things?” Ignes smirked.
“It’s real. It took Gunnar last Christmas, don’t you remember?”Agla said, trying to reach for the sheep hair.
“Gunnar went missing because he went to find his dog.”
“For being sixteen, you’re both forgetful and lazy.”
Ignes grunted and walked towards the other side of the barn where the others were sorting the hair. 
“Agla, what are you doing, child? We need to finish before this Christmas storm blows in,” Agla’s mother yelled from the other side. 
Agla could see Ignes tossing the sheep hair she had sheared onto the heap. Her mother looked at him, nodding approval. She glanced at the huddled sheep; they were all shorn. Agla had no choice but to join Ignes and the others to sort. 

The sore muscles in Agla’s shoulders caused her to droop forward at the dining table. She glanced at what was left of her family: her parents, two older siblings, and her cousin, their faces drawn with exhaustion. Winter preparations were more challenging this season since many of her relatives had left Iceland to avoid the bitter winters. What took a few days to care for the wool production and harvesting took a couple of weeks. 
Agla secretly wished they had also left for Canada. She had heard many stories about that country and wanted to taste maple syrup and ice skate on a frozen pond. She gingerly placed a spoon of steaming lamb stew into her mouth, savoring the heat and spices. 
“You proved yourself today, Ignes. Mamma told me how hard you were working.” Agla’s father said as he patted Ignes on the back. 
Ignes smiled broadly and made eye contact with Agla. “Of course, I wanted to make myself useful since you all have allowed me to stay here.” He said as his smile changed to a quivering lip.
“Of course! We are proud of you for not leaving your home like your family did.” At this, Agla’s father frowned, and for a moment, Agla thought he would start a speech on the importance of living in one’s homeland again. She noticed that her mother and father exchanged looks, and her father cleared his throat. 
“Let us eat! It has been a long day,” He finally said.
Agla peered at her siblings, who dropped their heads to their bowls of stew as if expecting a message to reveal itself. 
“Thank God we were able to finish in time. Tomorrow, we won’t be caught up in that storm if it decides to roll in,” Agla’s mother clapped. “Oh, let us not forget that tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and we’ll be expecting something special.” She said and winked. 
Agla knew what her mother meant. Every Christmas Eve, if one worked hard and helped with farming, a gift of new clothing would be given. Last season, she received a pair of new working trousers, a top, and the headscarf she had worn earlier. The recollection made her think of Gunnar, who disappeared last Christmas Eve, and if he had gotten any clothes. It would explain why he disappeared, Agla imagined. She saw a large, long-haired cat with yellow eyes dragging Gunnar away and the ogress, Gryla, watching and anticipating her shared meal. 


Groggily, Agla woke up and peered at the window; speckles of ice lined the frame. She rolled off the thick layers of blankets and plodded to the corner of her room where the water basin and porcelain bucket were. She tip-toed to the door after rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with water. Agla opened it gradually, anticipating the stack of clothes on the ground. Yet, when she peered down, there was nothing there. 
Rushing into her old clothes, Agla went downstairs to find her mother preparing breakfast and her father at the table. Besides him was Ignes. He looked up at her with a crooked smile, a mug nestled between his hands. Agla hoped she would have her parents to herself so she could ask them about the new clothes; she didn’t want Ignes to know she was distressed. 
She had always been gifted new clothes since she began working the farm alongside her siblings. Agla wondered if her parents believed she hadn’t worked hard this season. Her fists clenched. She recalled Ignes stepping in to take the heap of sheep hair from her or to push the cart of cabbages back to the barn to make himself seem busy. 
“Agla, are you going to sit?” Agla’s father asked as he peered at her clothes.
She wondered if he wasn’t the one who decided not to give her any new ones or if it was her mother’s decision. 
“Yes, pabbi,” she said, pulling out a chair. 


Clouds of mottled metal hovered, obscuring what little sunlight remained during midday. The air was dry and crisp as the family squished through the snowy brushland. Their shoes crunched and slipped as they scoured for bits of fern and moss. Agla’s mother had a basket with a trowel inside.
Agla watched Ignes as he pointed at what he found, her mother hurrying over with a trowel in hand. Everyone got to their knees to help, except for Agla, who caught Ignes eyes. Ignes gradually smiled as Agla approached him; she paused before him and then bent down among her family; she could feel his gaze on her. She wondered if he knew she hadn’t received any new clothes. 
With the basket full, they turned to head home. A fog was beginning to roll in from behind. Agla glanced back to see if anything was left behind and froze. In the undulating greyness, a shape sat. It was massive and still. If it weren’t for the two pointy ears, Agla would have thought it was a boulder. She stumbled back and raced to catch up with her family. 


Agla’s mother placed the final candle on top of the handmade Christmas tree. She stepped back, admiring the tufts of greenery on each wooden limb and the colorful candles decorating the tips. Agla noticed that her hands were filthy from holding the plant bits. She headed past her father, who was smoking and watching, and her two siblings, who were knitting at the dining table. 
She washed her hands in the water basin, and as she dried them, she glanced outside the kitchen window. The snow fell sideways as the wind carried it. Moonlight glinted off the snowflakes, giving them a hue of blue. Agla thought back to the shadow she saw in the brushland—the gourd-shaped body with its double peaks. 
“We need more firewood. Who was in charge of bringing them in?” Agla’s father said.
Agla knew it was supposed to be Ignes’s task, yet she wanted to show that she could work hard. “I can bring them in!” she said.
“Agla, dear, it’s too cold outside,” Agla’s mother began.
“I can go with her,” Ignes said. “I can even go into town to get more if needed.” He said, a big smile spreading on his lips.
“It’s not necessary; there should be enough against the house out back,” Agla’s father said.


After layering on some wool, Agla and Ignes stepped out. The wind and snow buffeted them. Agla’s lashes stiffened, and she narrowed her eyes to see. Walking around the corner, she spotted the logs, mostly covered in snow; they would have to dig them out. Scooping the snow, Agla and Ignes were able to pry out a few logs. 
With a couple of logs gripped under her arms, Agla trudged towards the front, Ignes taking the lead. Half hidden in the snow, she noticed something red. Gradually, she bent down to look; it was a piece of clothes. Ignes had returned. She peered up at him. “What is this?” she asked.
“Those were your clothes,” Ignes said.
Agla widened her eyes. “This was my new clothes? You threw them outside?”
“I wanted you to think that you didn’t get any,” Ignes said, and he laughed. 
She was about to shove Ignes with her free shoulder when she heard a loud purring. It began abruptly, and it covered the sound of the wind. Agla searched for the purring and found the shadowy mass again. It crouched next to the pile of logs; two yellow orbs floated in the snowfall. Agla heard wood hitting the ground and then footsteps. She realized that Ignes was running. 
The mass moved, and Agla closed her eyes, waiting for the impact. She was brushed to the side of the house, the logs dropping from her grasp. Opening her eyes, she watched as the lumbering animal caught up to Ignes and swept him into its mouth; a shortened scream burst out of him. It shifted to the side and paused, looking back at Agla. She could see that the upper torso of Ignes was inside its mouth; his legs kicked and thrashed. Its yellow eyes shown like beacons. 
Agla slid to the ground, grabbing her knees to herself. Shadows raced to her side, her father scooped her up, and her mother threw a blanket on her. Over her father’s shoulder, she saw the cat bound into the snowstorm.