The gruff look on Kristoff’s face was replaced with an expression of mild concern. “I think you’ve been in the cold too long.”
“I think so, too,” Anna agreed. “I’m starting to see things that aren’t there.” She glanced at the snowman again. “Like you. At least, I think it was you. The two of us were riding a snow hill together inside a big room.”
“That’s because we did!” Olaf said.
Anna’s breath started to come faster. “When?”
Her parents had told her they’d adopted her as a baby, but what if that wasn’t true? Anna’s earliest memories with Tomally and Johan were later—starting school, standing on a stool and baking bread next to her mother, waiting for Freya to pull up outside their home. In all those, she was a girl of about six or seven. True, no one remembered being a baby, but the little girl in her visions looked and sounded just like her. She couldn’t be more than four or five. What were these sudden flashes of memories she couldn’t fully remember? Were they memories of her first family?
Sometimes she wondered who her birth parents were and why they had given her up, but she never asked Tomally or Johan. She didn’t want to hurt them by asking. She always said the only thing she remembered about her former life was being kissed by a troll. It had seemed a funny thing to say when other kids asked about her adoption, but the truth was—she really remembered this happening. It felt like a dream—a fuzzy memory, really—of being asleep while a troll talked to her and then kissed her on the forehead. She had seen it in her dreams so many times that she truly believed it. She just didn’t share that with other people.
She’d mentioned it to her parents once or twice. Now that she thought about it, they’d never denied it.
“Olaf?” Anna tried again. “Did you and I really go sledding…indoors?” Olaf nodded. “But how is that possible? I’d never left my village before this trip. Are you sure you haven’t traveled anywhere outside the castle?”
Olaf’s face fell. “I don’t think so. Have I?”
“I don’t know,” Anna said, feeling frustrated.
“Neither do I,” Olaf admitted.
“Can you two stop talking?” Kristoff cracked the reins again. “It’s getting harder and harder to see with all this snow. I’m trying to concentrate. This path is too rocky to stay on. We need to find you somewhere warm to thaw out and then figure out where we’re going next. We are not staying on a wild-goose chase with a talking snowman who doesn’t know where he’s going.”
“But—” Anna said.
Kristoff ignored her. “Give me a second.” He stood up, holding the lantern into the growing darkness. “I thought we were near the valley, but all this snow is changing the view.”
“Which valley?” Anna asked. She was suddenly shivering.
“A valley that has no snow,” Kristoff said, sounding as if he’d answered without thinking.
“How can a valley have no snow when the whole kingdom is covered in snow?” Olaf asked.
“How can a snowman talk?” Kristoff countered.
In the distance, they heard a wolf howl.
I need to find Elsa, Anna realized, the need almost overwhelming her.
She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the strange thoughts. Maybe Kristoff was right: she needed sleep. “I don’t feel right,” she said, and leaned her head down on the sleigh.
“Anna?” Kristoff shook her. “Don’t fall asleep. You hear me? We’re going to find shelter.” He sat her up. “Olaf, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but keep talking to her till I can find us somewhere to stop.”
“Okay, about what?” Olaf asked.
“Maybe about why the princess went all ice crazy?” Kristoff snapped the reins again, and Sven continued to climb.
Anna gave him a dirty look. “She’s not crazy, she’s—” Another flash caused her head to feel like it was going to explode.
Elsa, do the magic! Do the magic! she heard a small voice say. Next she saw herself sitting on a chair in her nightgown, clapping her hands. Had she just said the name Elsa? That was impossible! Anna started to hyperventilate. What is happening to me?
“Faster, Sven!” Kristoff cried, holding Anna up with one hand. “Anna? Stay with me, okay? Hang on.”
“Trying,” Anna whispered, but her head felt like it was on fire and she was so tired.
“Talk to her, Olaf!” Kristoff shouted. “What can you tell us about Elsa?”
“She loved flowers. Hans sent her purple heather every week,” Olaf told them. “He