What a weird thing to do, Kerstin muttered to herself. And then she was struck by a peculiar and almost panicky feeling in her chest that made her set off at a run towards the root cellar door without any clearly formulated thoughts or words. Jeanette was on her tail, and together they raised the heavy hatches and threw them to one side. Kerstin pulled out her mobile, turned on the torch and descended the steps into the subterranean space. She shone the light around the chamber. It was bare and uninviting, and lined with rickety shelves without any sign of any food. It was raw and damp down here, water trickling down the walls to form large puddles on the floor.

But there, at the far end in the darkness by the wall there was something lying on the floor that didn’t look like it belonged there. She moved closer to it and gasped when she realised what she was looking at.

A little boy in blue jeans, a red sweatshirt, and green boots.

“It’s Erik!” Kerstin cried out at once, throwing herself forward to gather him up in her arms.

He was cold, wet, and loose-limbed. It was impossible to tell whether there was any life left in the boy, but Kerstin just ran. Up the steps and into the light and rain. Jeanette proved herself to be unusually efficient in the situation and ran ahead towards the house, tearing open the door and wedging it wide open, before rushing inside with her muddy boots on. She went over to the sofa where she spread out a blanket.

“Lay him down there,” she ordered Kerstin. “Take his clothes off and I’ll fetch more blankets.”

Kerstin did as she was told: she removed his boots, trousers, jumper, and underclothes with furious speed. Everything was cold and wet.

“Lie down with the boy in your arms,” Jeanette said. “I’ll wrap you up in blankets. If he’s alive then he needs your body heat.”

Kerstin had no medical knowledge and no clue what she was supposed to do, but now that she was lying with the naked, cold little body close to her own she could feel that he was breathing. It was fast and shallow, but he was breathing. While Jeanette wrapped them in the blankets, Kerstin massaged him as best as she could, kneading his small limbs and the little back with her rough hands, exhaling warm air onto his face and his throat.

“He’s alive,” said Kerstin. “Call emergency services.”

Jeanette made the call and explained the gravity of the situation, explaining that it was probably the missing boy. With Kerstin providing prompts, she described where the hunting cabin was and the easiest way to get there. She asked for instructions, but was directed simply to keep the child warm and to get him to drink fluids if it were possible.