Little Viking Viga and her fox friend Loki search for the missing horn before the feast can begin.
Far to the north, where the snow squeaked under boots and the fjord glimmered like steel, lived a little Viking girl named Viga. She wore red pigtails and a thick fur coat, and everywhere she went, a clever red fox named Loki trotted at her heels.
Viga loved training by the shore. She practised rowing in a little boat and aimed her arrows at round painted shields, dreaming of the day she would be the bravest Viking in the village. Loki watched every game as if he were helping too.
That morning, the village hall smelled of smoke, fish, and sweet berries. Everyone was busy setting out the feast. At the centre of the hall stood the great silver horn, bright and proud on a carved wooden stand. The elders said it had once belonged to Thor himself. Viga always stared at it a little longer than the rest.
Then a shout rang out.
The hall fell silent.
The horn was gone.
Chief Olaf pushed through the crowd, his beard bristling. "No horn, no feast," he boomed.
Viga’s eyes met Loki’s. She gave one quick nod, and Loki slipped toward the open door. Viga hurried after him, her heart thumping with excitement. Outside, a line of fresh tracks cut through the snow and led away from the village, straight toward the dark pine forest.
Loki stopped at the first trees. His ears stood up. From somewhere deep between the trunks came a faint sound.
A low, shining note.
Viga held her breath. Hidden in the clearing ahead, something silver caught the light, and then she saw a shape move behind the trees...