"Giving birth to yer dark looks is what killed yer dear, sweet ma, Sacha. Right then, yer da should have tossed ye out to sea and spared us from yer wicked ways." Spittle flew from old Katla's mouth, along with the hurt she spewed. Her gray hair twisted around her head like a sea snake, shimmering silver in the light. Yet her eyes were dark, filled with hatred and without mercy.

Sacha dropped her chin to her chest, drawing her coiled basket closer to her hip. Katla had been hounding her with this nonsense since she was old enough to understand. Shaking the nigh empty basket, she ran her fingers over the leaves of the closest bush, testing for hidden berries, praying to the gods that they might hear her growling belly. The day's forage was too meager to please her da, but so were the bilberries on the bushes this late in the season. He would understand when they once more ate watered-down soup, unless he had more luck with the fish.

Her stomach twisted, shooting pangs of longing into her gut. Fresh fish roasted over a fire? She salivated at the memory of it.

"Ignore her." Greta pressed her temple to Sacha's shoulder, drawing her back to the moment. "She's a mean old woman."

"She's the reason we were chased from the village, Greta, ye know this."

"It has more to do with her grandson tossing his gaze upon ye."

Heat burst across Sacha's cheeks, in contrast to her chilled shoulders in her too-thin sackcloth dress. Bjorn Hlodvirsson: tall, broad-shouldered, with blue eyes, was the best hunter in their village, Eskil. Aye, she had noticed him. Shaking her childish daydreams from her mind, she knelt to pluck a few crowns of dill. "We have no food, and the roof leaks. Da's not as strong as he used to be, and it's her words that drove him into the ground."

"Aye, ye have the right of it, Sacha. Katla's been telling Chief Orn stories again. I never knew ye could pull a fish out of yer ass." She held a straight face for a second.

Sacha giggled as Greta leaned back, guffawing loud enough to scare the children playing in the stream nearby. Her thick braids shook before settling once more down her back. In her soft blue tunic and white apron, she shone like the joyful beacon she was.

"I wish." Her joy dwindled like the fading sunlight. Evening rippled through the forest sprinkled with snow, and the shadows stretched their fingers toward Sacha's mended slippers.

"See how the darkness recognizes her? Stay away from her, the sorceress, the temptress." Katla gestured with her spindly arms, almost toppling over in the process. "Don't even touch the shadow she casts. A curse shall rest upon ye, bringing fever and death."

Greta threw a glance at Sacha with her lips pursed. Her cheeks glowed pink, and the wildflower-blue of her eyes twinkled before she broke into laughter again.

Katla huffed. "I shall be having a word with yer da, Greta Finndottir."

"And he'll chase ye away, ye daft bat." Greta shared her words with Sacha and no one else. "Be sure to come by after evening meal, Katla. Being so knowledgeable on the comings and goings, ye must ken Da has opened a fresh casket of ale?"

Katla's parchment cheeks mottled, and she whipped her back on Greta, shunning her in front of the women gathered nearby.

"Take care, dear one." Sacha clutched Greta's wrist to hold her still. "She'll target ye next."

"She can try." Greta dumped her berries, herbs, roots, and other cloth-wrapped packages into Sacha's basket. "Ma's needing my help this evening for the feast preparations. She has set aside platters for ye and yer da."

"Greta, ..." Sacha stared at the food filling her basket, which she now had to clutch with both hands. "I cannot accept this or yer ma's kindness. I cannot repay, and Da won't arrive empty-handed."

"Ye can and ye will. Da and Lodin speared a boar two nights ago. The feast begins at sunset. If ye're not there, Sacha, I shall send Lodin to fetch ye." Greta skipped away, as if she had settled the matter.

Sacha watched until she lost sight of her friend before peering into the basket. She gasped, almost dropping it. There was a hunk of lamb wrapped in a cloth, dried fish, ground flour, a little bottle of fish oil, herbs, vegetables, and whatever Greta had found in this day's forage.

For once, Sacha didn't mind the wide berth the villagers gave her, nor did their whispered hatred and fear reach her ears. For this evening, she would eat her fill, and perhaps, da might bless her with a song like he used to.

"That looks a might too heavy for ye." The deep voice startled her out of her thoughts. Bjorn dropped from the boulder to land beside her, sweeping the basket out of her hands. "Whoa, what's this? Ye found lamb growing on a bush?" His lips parted on a bright smile, dazzling her.

She responded in kind, while trying to snatch the basket back. "Tis gifts from Greta."

She had known Bjorn since they were children. They had spent many a day playing in the streams and hunting in the woods where he had taught her how to use a bow and arrow. Not that her skills helped her now. She was without bow or arrow.

One summer, when they were chasing frogs in a nearby pond, girlish shivers had overwhelmed her at the sight of his muscled chest in his wet tunic. It had been a struggle to hide her interest, then, and still was. He didn't see her as a woman, and never would, not in her shapeless dresses. If only he knew how her breasts had grown, and how her hips had flared, perhaps then...

"Coming to the feast?" He was sweet to ask, even though he knew, along with the villagers who had sent her and Da packing, that attending feasts wasn't always possible.

"Perhaps."

"I would love to see ye smile like ye used to, Sacha." He brushed his fingers down her cheek to grip her chin, and those girlish shivers pooled warmth down her back. "Here." He danced around her and tossed two rabbits into her basket. "And wear something pretty."

She stared after him, wasting time admiring his ass in his breeches, his tunic pulled tight over his shoulders and the sunset setting his white hair glowing. Coiling a lock of her hair around her forefinger, she grimaced. Dark as midnight, eyes and hair, amid a community of pale blond and paler skin.

Hefting the basket into her arms, she beamed at the bounty the gods had provided. With a full belly, she could deal with whatever Katla threw at her next.

"Da?" She hefted the basket onto the cracked wooden table, then hurried around it to stoke the fire. Shivers rippled goosebumps across her arms as the warmth from the fire reached her.

"Aye?" Da smiled from where he leaned against the door's twisted frame. Frail, he stooped, as if life had beaten his spirit into the ground.

Fury rose as deliciously wicked as a swig of ale hitting her innards. Katla had done this, accusing Da of laying with a witch, of Ma praying to Hel or Loki and bringing the cursed dark one into their home. What would the woman have done had Sacha been born with golden hair and eyes? Who would Katla torment then? Greta's round face came to mind, and Sacha wrapped her arms around her waist, fighting a chill that had seeped into the marrow of her bones.

"Ye saw Katla today?" Da could always sense when she was down. If anyone was a witch, it would be her sensitive father. "Sorry, lassie. I should have put her in her place when she started this nonsense. Many years ago, my da turned down her offer of betrothal, and she hasn't forgotten it. The truth was, she didn't chase us from the village. Our home belonged to yer ma's brother, and he wanted the house when she died. He blamed me for her death, for not loving or caring for her enough." He drew Sacha into his arms, patting her back as if she were six years old. "I wasn't going to let them hurt ye any more than they had."

"We should have gone to another village far from this one."

Da laughed. "Aye, in hindsight." He sniffed, jerking to the side. "Why does my nose smell salted fish?"

She grinned. "The gods heard my gnawing hunger and sent us a bounty." She unpacked the items onto the table, hiding her tears from him. "Bjorn gave us the hares to bring as gifts for the feast of Yule."

"Ah, that would explain the parcel Finn dropped off this morning." Da gestured to the folded cloth on her rickety bed sitting in the corner. She flicked it out and held the burgundy dress to her front, squealing as she twirled.

"Is it not beautiful?" Tears streamed over her smile, and she bounced on her toes unable to contain the sweet joy pulsing through her. Bjorn had said to wear something pretty. Wiping her hair from her face, she admired her distorted image in the cracked mirror above the hearth.

"Aye, ye'd look prettier if ye bathed." He chewed around a strip of dried fish, watching her with a twisted grin.

She snorted, and folded the dress, careful not to dirty it.