Page 57 of The Apparent Trap

I’m grateful for the silence here as I walk down the path to the lodge. I wonder if in the summer the air is filled with the buzz of birds and animals. But right now, you can only hear the wind rustling leaves under the weight of the snow. It’s peace. And it helps me clear my head as I meander along through the forest.

Carmen and Lee are ready to go when I arrive, flanked by Amir and Simon. My dad isn’t coming to this outing because we don’t need his expertise here.

“Everyone have the notes?” I ask. They all nod. No one has awkwardly asked me if I’m okay from yesterday, and I’m deeply grateful for that level of professionalism.

“Great, let’s hop in the van.”

I walk outside, and Lee stands in front of me, looking me up and down.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you have enough layers on?”

I roll my eyes. “No one is dunking me in water today.”

“You volunteered to dunk yourself in water.”

“Right, so I’m known for my excellent decision-making when it comes to my temperature.”

I walk past him and get in the front seat of the van, and I can hear him chuckling behind me.

We make our way into the countryside, driving out of the forest and past the frozen river. The snow is so white now that the sun has risen higher, glinting, almost impossible to look straight at, almost like it’s too beautiful and serene to behold.

Our first shoot is today’s outdoorsy one, since the sun sets a little after 1:00 p.m. in December and there’s only around four hours total of daylight—how anyone lives here without seasonal depression is a question I would do a deep dive into if I had more time. But that’s a thought for another day.

When we reach the edge of another forest, we park and greet Nils, who’s going to teach us about the northern Swedish traditions of foraging in areas that were traditionally limited for farming by the climate.

Like most everyone we’ve met here, Nils is tall, but he’s got the dark, brooding version instead of the blond, with sharp canines, direct eyes, and accented English that’s clipped and precise. He’s handsome, and I laugh to myself when I see Lee straighten up a bit when they shake hands.

Simon sets Lee, Carmen, and Nils up with their mics while Amir and I talk about how we want to film as we’re walking. We’ll get a fuller interview with Nils at the end, but for now I want to just let them go and have the conversation feel as organic as possible.

This forest is even more dense than the one we’re staying in at the hotel, but the trees are still those thin pines and spruces whose branches don’t start until well above what any person could reach. There are larger boulders here, the snow mixing in with moss that reminds me of the trolls from Frozen.

I stay back so we don’t get in the way, but I’m on the headset, listening. Lee is like a kid in a candy store, asking follow-up after follow-up.

“I know Scandinavian foraging became a buzzword in culinary circles in recent years, but how long has your family been in this region?” he asks.

“My family are Sámi, so centuries. We’ve depended on foraging, fishing, and reindeer herding for generations. And the knowledge of what was edible and how to preserve was passed down through families.”

“If it’s so cold, why is it such a rich region?”

“It’s short days right now, but the long days of midnight sun in summer give plants intense growth spurts. There’s a lot more flavor and nutrients packed into what we grow here.”

Lee looks back my way, his expression saying, Isn’t this so cool? I nod ahead as a reminder to stop focusing on me and pay attention to the people who actually matter for this segment.

Nils points out lingonberries, which we’ve eaten in practically everything since we arrived, so Lee is particularly interested in seeing how they sweeten even in frost. Nils shows us the similarly red, but differently shaped, rose hips that also are easily accessible. We tap some birch sap for a syrup. He also demonstrates how to collect pine bark for flour.

I’m usually the kind of woman who orders pizza and calls it a day, but even I’m inspired by the scenery. Nils’s quiet confidence, Lee’s inquisitive verve, and Carmen’s natural curiosity all feed off each other, and I’m already imagining how I’m going to cut this together to make a visually arresting segment that’ll knock everyone’s socks off.

Amir wants to get tight shots of Carmen and Nils picking lingonberries, so Lee and I wander around, taking in the scenery. His unbridled enthusiasm seems to extend to everything except me this morning. I would wonder if he was avoiding me if I didn’t already know why he should. We don’t need to add tension to a make-or-break filming day.

But I can’t help but glance over as he starts to climb up a series of those mossy boulders that rise from the ground like an outdoorsy obstacle course. I’m watching half in fear of him tripping and causing more chaos, like I did yesterday, and half in admiration for how he moves. I know the man has a decade on me, but he looks powerful when he climbs.

“I’m not going to fall into a pile of ice,” he says, catching me looking.

“I wasn’t worried about that,” I reply automatically.

“No?”