Berserkir (Beserkers) "Bear-shirts" & Úlfheðnar  (oolv-HETH-nahr) "wolf hides" are fierce warrior shamans (Odin's men) that, by wearing the pelts of either bear or wolf, can induce a state of possession of their animal totems. They were supposed to be terrifying on the battlefield as they rushed at their foes, sometimes without their shields, dressed in nothing but their animal skins.

"Oh gods, Roth!" Heida lowered herself in front of him and laid her trembling hands at either side of his face. "Not now!"

His own hands were fevered as they covered hers. "Nay, not yet; but soon." He pushed himself up, but, in the next instant, doubled over with another roar of pain.

"Do you negate your own fears or seek to assuage mine?" said she, nervously.

"Both," he whispered.

"Tell me what to do!" Heida cried, her panicked eyes flying through the shadowed trees for any sign of help. That, however, was likely a double-edged sword, for it was best that, if indeed the valdyr emerged here and now, she be the only one in propinquity; the only one endangered.

"We must ... I must get to Niflheim!"

The cave! Of course! "Where is it?" She had never been. No one had, not even Aila.

With an abrupt nudge of his head, he indicated the direction they would take and she helped him to stand, his entire body racked with strange and sickening snaps; moreover, contorting ever and anon with hideous shudderings. She supported nearly all his weight as he grunted through the agonies lashing at his insides.

There were tears dimming her eyes to see him so afflicted, and to see the odd protuberances beginning to reshape his face and body. By and by, as his breathing accelerated and his grunting became more like sibilant growling, her sobs became more anguished. The terror surged as surely as the valdyr whelmed within the man she loved, making of him the monster he detested.

Brenna had told her once that Renic had nearly killed her in these very woods ... on a night such as this one. What would Roth do to her? With that thought bedeviling her, she quickened her pace. Though she was far stronger than most, he was heavier than she had first presumed, his great bulk already growing more burdensome as his bones protracted and his flesh swelled. Nevertheless, she steeled herself and bore his weight as none with twice her mettle would have, gritting her teeth as the woodland blurred around her.

Now and then, at hazard, he would point a hairy, malformed hand in whatever new direction would take them to his hellir and she perforce complied. But he no longer spoke.

Twilight had long since given way to night, and the darkness was as dense as the fog of death must surely be, but she trusted that he could see; that he knew where his lair was. Finally, he stopped her and struggled forward on his own.

"Go!" he commanded in a growl that was neither human, nor beast, but something in between.

She backed away only slightly, watching keenly as a sliver of moonlight peeked above the trees to light the thicket into which he had crawled. With foreboding in her heart she advanced, her ears catching ever sound of his struggles behind the curtain of vines and foliage.

The leafy drapes rustled gently as she moved them aside to reveal what was hidden behind them, her determination overcoming her trepidation. A narrowed aperture stood carved into the blackened rock, the lichen almost dark red in the night, like spatters of blood at the opening.

Gods! How had he squeezed through there?! Had they not arrived with seconds to spare, veritably, he would not have! Deep within the bowels of the cave she could hear ... such echoes as to still her heart with horror. They were enough that she backed away instantly and scurried back whence she came, the stars guiding her home.

Heida pulled her dagger from her girdle and marked the trees as she made her way home. With or without Roth's permission, she felt it incumbent on her to rediscover the cave and explore it thoroughly. Perhaps if she could see how deep the wolf's den stretched, mayhap there was some way to help him reach it the sooner in future, if circumstances ever necessitated that he was delayed again.

But she could not help him unless she knew everything there was to know about Rothgar, The Flesh Eater; and the beast that drove him.

She was so wholly mired within her thoughts that she belatedly sensed the woods were too quiet. Stopping abruptly, she whirled around and took a battle stance, sensing another's presence close by. Was it Roth? Had the creature escaped his prison?!

And then a faint light through the trees, a momentary wink, caught the tail of her eye, however, when she glanced thence, there was only darkness. It had, perchance, only been the moonlight reflecting off ... something.

With an uneasiness twisting in her belly, an awful premonition heavy in her gut, she took up her running again, the moon now high enough that the argentine light clearly illuminated her way.

The woods fell away behind her as she sprinted up the knoll towards the farmstead, and then she stopped of a sudden as she noticed the two figures, a tall man and a woman, standing a short distance from the hall.

No one should be out this night of all nights.

"Heida!" It was Aila's voice that called from the shade where the torch lights failed to reach.

And who was the man, she wondered, looming like an inanimate shadow behind the Blackmane matriarch. "Aila!" She hurried towards her mother. "Why are you outside tonight?!"

"Where have you been?" Aila asked, her voice now strangely calm.

Heida glanced to the shadow man who smiled in response, his teeth impossibly sharp and white in the dark. She then glanced back at her mother meaningfully.

Aila looked briefly over her shoulder at the man then brought her gaze back to her daughter. "You may speak freely, he will say nothing."

"Who is he?"

"A man I trust," she answered, vaguely withal, "but let us rather speak of where you have been."

"In the forest ... with Roth."

Aila's brow beetled with understanding as she nodded. Whatever it was she took to understanding, however, she did not say, yet Heida could feel her face flush and was sure that, despite the dearth of light, it must be obvious to Aila and the stranger.

"Did Frida follow you?"

It was Heida's brow that furrowed now. "No, why?"

"She is missing." The statement was clipped, but there was worriment laced in every word. "I thought perhaps she had ... followed you."

If Frida had been with Heida, she'd have seen what Heida had done — which is to say she'd trespassed on another woman's property. Surely she, or Roth at least, would have noticed if they'd been observed.

"It's not possibly! If she'd followed me, I would have sensed her presence; moreover, Roth would have-"

"Would he?" The man was finally heard from, stepping into the light. "Hmm."

He looked so familiar to her. Where had she seen him before? "Yes," she answered. "Roth would have known if Frida was close by." She was not sure how much more she should say.

She felt that, though they three spoke almost vaguely, each was perfectly sensible to what the other meant. Did this man know about Roth, and about what she'd been doing with him in the forest?

The giant stepped closer, his long, black hair like a cape around his powerful shoulders. "I think not," said he, his bright eyes narrowing. "When the wolf is beset with febrility, both of hunger" — here he smirked meaningfully — "or of pain, he will notice little else, child."

Heida's eyes started from her head. By Frigg! He knows!

With a low chuckle the man moved past Heida and entered the hall.

Heida dragged her eyes back to Aila's discerning gaze. "No! She must be inside somewhere!" Wasting not a second more, she darted into the hall. Olaf stood by the fire and frowned askance at her as she rushed in. But where was the dark man? "The man," she said to Olaf, "where is he?"

"Who?" Olaf blinked in confusion.

"The man!" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "The one with the black hair."

There was not one in a thousand men with black hair in the north. Apart from Roth and Renic, she had never seen ... a man with black hair!

With a gasp, a realization came to her suddenly. Was it possible that he was Roth's father?! The fact that he and Aila had been standing close together, as close as lovers might, only fortified her conviction.

Olaf was still staring at her as though she was touched in the head. "You mean Roth?" He shook his head, visibly perturbed and doubtless wondering why she should question what was obvious. "But he always hunts the ... valdyr on this night." Then, setting down the fire irons, he began to make his way purposefully towards the open door. "And, come to that, Aila should not be outside. The moon has risen already."

Olaf, like the rest of the clan folk nearby and in the village, was superstitious and would brook no unnecessary risks. Not this night. "My lady?" he said, calling to Aila, as he disappeared out the door. "Should not we bolt the doors now?"

Whatever Aila's answer, she could not say, for she was distracted by an unexpected giggle from the boys' bed closet down the corridor. It drew Heida's attention immediately and she moved that way, both to search for Frida and to assure herself of her nephews' whereabouts. Upon reaching the bed closet, the door wide open, she stopped abruptly, her hand moving of its own volition to where her dagger hang at her hip.

There, beside Finn and Freki, sat the black-haired man. Though he did not look up at her, she was well aware that he sensed her there, for he was decidedly a warrior despite that he wore no weapons. One had only to look at him to see the forceful quiescence in his demeanor. Furthermore, the grin he'd worn before was back in place.

"Are they beserkir?" Finn asked, clearly fascinated by whatever story he was being fed. The three black heads were all huddled together in a conspiratorial manner that would have been natural if the man had been their father or an uncle; but the scene was disturbing to witness by reason of the fact that his role was still unknown. The man was, after all, a stranger and a disquieting one at that.

"No," said the stranger, "they are úlfheðnar, the wolf-skins."

"Oolv-heth-nahr?" The word fell awkwardly from little Finn's tongue.

"Ay, very good."

"So they do not wear bear-shirts like the beserkir?"

"No, not bear-shirts."

"I want to be a beserkir!" said Freki, his brow puckering solemnly.

The dark man smiled. "But the úlfheðnar are as fierce as beserkir, save that they wear their wolf-skins into battle instead. There are none as terrifying, nor as powerful as the úlfheðnar. Has your father not told you about them?"

Freki and Finn each shook their heads, awed by this stately thane and his enthralling tale.

"There is time enough for that..." He then turned to settle his eerie blue eyes over Heida. "She's not here." He meant Frida.

Heida felt that same presage that had latterly affected her rise up again like bile, but she schooled her features as best she could as she kissed her nephews goodnight and left them in the stranger's care. If Aila trusted him, then she would have to do the same. And she was coming to think that he was more than just a stranger to the boys. She could not disregard the notion that he was kin. He did, after all, look so like Roth.

After searching the hall for Frida, to no avail, she rushed past a disgruntled Olaf, sitting by the fireside again, and back outside to see Aila staring up at the full moon.

"Heida, I do not have a good feeling." She crossed her arms over her chest to rub at her upper arms.

"Nor I," said Heida. It was now certain that it had been Frida's lamp light she'd seen briefly in the woods on her return. "I shall go search her out."

"No!" Aila took hold of Heida's arm and pulled her back with surprising strength. "Tis too dangerous, you know that!"

"But I know where..." She glanced around, leery of being overheard, and then, in a lowered voice, said, "I know where Niflheim is. I helped him there tonight after we...!" She left the thought unfinished, feeling a flush of shame spread over her skin.

"Hmm." Aila's brows quirked briefly, suspiciously.

"Please, Mother." She placed a heartening palm gently over Aila's hand. "I can bring her back safely."

After a silence, Aila nodded and released her. "Be careful, daughter. I cannot lose you too." She was speaking of Renic. His loss had affected her keenly, as had it done them all.

Losing no more time, for too much of it had already been lost, she sprinted back into her beloved woods, now achromatic with shades of black and grey; and silver. Before disappearing past the boundary of tall yews and elms, she remarked a plume of smoke rising from Epona's cottage, a dim flames burning at the sconces beside the door.

Good, they were home. Her friend was safe within her abode. This was no night for prowling in the woods, as she knew both women were wont to do; Brenna now worshiped her mother's goddesses as much as she still served her own.

Branches lashed at her arms and nettles caught at her hair and cloak as she ran, trying to discern the markings she'd hurriedly made earlier. At one point, though, she doubled back, for she had taken a wrong turn, and, unable to find her marking, slapped furiously at the tree trunk in frustration.

She had lost her way in the darkness after all.

🌟A bit of Loki and Aila for you.🌟