"That's it, good girl," My palm pats Hefna's thick neck as she bends to drink from the flowing creek. She's thirsty and I've rewarded her endurance with a break and some well-deserved water.

The horse slurps from the brook and I crouch beside her and dip my cupped hands into the water and bring it to my mouth, wetting my tongue and throat.

We've traveled far south and have reached the land ruled by the Orm (Serpent) Clan, so the heavy furs required further north are no longer needed. The moment the air didn't have a temperate bite I discarded the piss-scented garment. My nose, I thought might have been broken after taking the hard fists of Ivan, is tender to the touch but the bleeding has stopped and I'm finding I still am able to breathe and smell through it.

My body aches after the daunting fight, but it's when it has taken a beating like this one I feel most alive.

I dip my hands beneath the chilly water again and bring it up smiling at my reflection in it. Yes, I indeed do look like Hel herself. The old large scar, gifted the night my father died, cuts downward from the inner corner of my black brow across the plain between my eyes, and diagonally down beneath my opposite eye, and finishes at the curve of my jaw. My face is speckled with dried blood, and my nose is swollen sporting a large bump on the bridge. And now, a fresh cut beside the corner of my lips boasts a scab.

Scoffing at my hideous appearance I drink again from my hands then flick them to dry them. I twist the large ring on my thumb, studying it. The mount on the ring is the head of a hjörtr (stag) and the inscribed etchings of the ring reads hjörtr clan.

Why was Ivan The Cruel wearing the ring of the hjörtr (Stag) people?

The quality of the ring proves impressive. The precious metals used to create it aren't something a common villager would be wearing. This wasn't something Ivan picked up on a raid, or his men picked from a random dead body, at least I don't believe it to be. This ring matches a ring I've seen Svea wear from her family's crest.

Svea and daughter of Jarl Aeffrith. Ally to Orms (Serpent) Clan. Also, one of my most treasured friends.

I turn it over and find written etchings carved delicately into the smoothed inside of the ring. I read the runes aloud, "Einn (One) Clan."

Hefna lifts her large head from the water then sniffs the ring I have in my hands curiously hoping for it to be edible then snorts, shooting her snot and water all over my hands.

"Many thanks, Hefna," I laugh and slip the ring back to my thumb then wipe my slimy hands onto the matted grass I sit on. "Shall we continue?" I ask her but she only looks at me with her large dark brown eye and long black lashes. Lifting my knees I rest my arms over them and admire the flow of the creak before me.

It's wide, with moss-covered boulders jutting out from the water. When it rains heavily this mere brook would widen into a river, but for now, in Orms Land where the forests are a vibrant green and in the season of Harpa*, the snow of the north remains in the north.

The babbling sounds of the passing water, mixing with the whistling wind funneling through the tall trees makes for a sweet disposition. My eyes catch the beige belly of the tiny chaffinch perched on a nearby twig. I fill with warmth as it chirps and it exposes it's orange neck, then perk my ears to listen for the other to which it calls for. Down the stream, the neighbor returns the chirping and they both start singing together.

Being in the forest alone is the only time I truly understand what serenity feels like. And in this moment I can appreciate the state of kyrre ( calm and tranquility) without the constant stain of the lurking dishonor I'd been burdened with.

I'd be more than happy to disappear into the forest and live among the trees and animals I feel I belong to. I often retreat into the woods to avoid real life. While Svea welcomes the people that she now belongs to, I've always tried my best to keep my distance. I never belonged to them despite them taking me in after the massacre of my clan. I belong here in the woods.

A knot inside my stomach causes me to sigh, knowing I'd need to return to Ormensthorpe. I am bound by duty to make sure Jarl Jorgensen knows of the plans Ivan The Cruel and his clan had for Orms (Serpent) clan. And, if Leif has returned, I must see him and tell him I've regained my family's honor.

I mount Hefna, click my tongue, and guide her by the reins to follow the old narrow trail beside the running creek and make for Ormensthorpe.

The brook leads from the mountains in the North and filters out through the forest land funneling the melting snow into the sea creating many creeks and rivers the closer one gets to the coast. It's beautiful here and much warmer than Kivickstead.

Riding atop Hefna I pick at the passing leaves, crumbling them between my fingers filling with more and more anxiety and excitement.

It's been so long since I've seen Svea and even longer since I've seen Leif.

The thick forest begins to thin as evidence of Ormensthorpe comes into view. Chopped trees, a widened trail with worn divots made by the wheeled carts, even the smell is different. The musk of the flora deep in the forest is no longer in the air, instead, a hint of smoke lingers.

When I spot the first farmer I lift my hand and wave. Bothi straightens with his tool in hand momentarily watches me, then realization fills him and he waves wildly back, "Tove?!"

I smile and Hefna continues on, meeting an apex in the trail where many converge and within an instant begin to see the people of Ormensthorpe going about their daily duties.

Ormensthorpe is bustling and magnificent. It lies on the water's edge and boasts the best fishing in the land. The warriors and barracks here are also top tier.

"Tove?" I hear my name gasped from another villager as a young girl runs by laughing sliding her hand across Hefna's belly. The girl looks back over her shoulder giving me a grin, then starts off again, reaching her mother inside the brewery. The hops and grains of the ale filtering into my nostrils causing my mouth to salivate.

Hefna's hooves slosh in the mud, and I scan the faces of the people I've grown up with. Despite not being of their clan, I do have a duty to them, and now that I am here I am happy with my choice to leave the forest.

At least, for now.

Jorgensen will have some choice words once I go to him.

I guide Hefna to the stables and dismount taking her into the stables by the reins and find her an empty stall. I remove the bridle and saddle then offer her hay and water. The other horses are curious about the newcomer, but I don't worry knowing she can handle herself if it becomes necessary.

I exit the stables and smile, gazing at the enormous longhouse centered in Ormensthorpe. The most beautiful woman I've seen in my life emerges from it quickly and her hand rises to her brows blocking the bright sun. Her hair, so blonde it's almost white blows with the light salty breeze and when she spots me I hear an audible gasp and giggle, "Tove?!"

Laughter fills me so I jog over, my fur boots sending bits of mud from the ground in all directions until I reach Svea and we both embrace tightly. Her hair blows into my face, and even gets stuck on my spread lips as we hold each other tightly.

"I thought you'd died!" She exhales a choked sigh.

"I'm alive and well," I say, brushing her long hair from my lips and from the scabbed gash on my face, "Very well."

She steps back holding my hands, with her white brows screwed upwards taking in the sight of me, "It seems you are exaggerating, my friend. Look at your beautiful face." Her soft hands touch my cheek and the pad of her thumb caresses the fresh wound, "I must clean these. Honestly, Tove do you wish to look like a troll?"

I gather her hand in mine, filling with such happiness to see her again, "I don't care what I look like, Svea, I've got my honor back."

Her naturally pink lips fall and her dazzling green eyes narrow, "W-what do you mean, Tove?" Reaching to the hilt cinched at my waist I remove the axe and hold it out to her, "I-is this..." She knows the weapon instantly. The carvings are one of a kind. Songs have been sung about it.

I answer for her, consumed by my excitement, "Hafrn- banamaðr (Raven-Slayer)."

Her mouth repeats the words back and her eyes shine snapping back up to me from the axe displayed in my palms. Her arms fly around me again, "By Odin, you've done it!"

"Yes, I must speak to Jarl Jorgensen though. Before I killed him, Ivan The Cruel was planning an attack."

"Are you sure of this?" Svea's smile falls and she steps back.

"Yes, I heard it with my own ears."

Her tongue wets her full lips and she nods once, "We must speak with the Jarl-."

"Is Leif not here? I'd heard rumors-"

"No, I've heard them too, but he isn't."

"Skita (shit)." I bite out and return the axe to the hilt and fist my hands on my hips, "Jorgensen is going to have my head." I say, and Svea nods.

"Perhaps seeing you alive will lift his spirits? Perhaps he won't be so angry?" She offers and I cock a brow, I can tell she doesn't even believe her own words.

"I deliberately disobeyed his orders, Svea." Jorgensen ordered me to remain in Ormensthorpe when he heard I was planning on going to Kivikstead. But, I didn't listen. I never listen.

Svea throws her hair over her shoulder and pats the front of her skirts, then takes my hand. "Come with me, by now he would have learned of your arrival. Give him time to digest your return while I fix your face."

<><><>

I join Svea inside her and Leif's bed-chamber. It had become more of mine when he left because Svea hated sleeping on her own. The smell of it is comforting, the smell of herbs and sweet perfumes she liked to use in her hair. The room used to linger of Leif's scent as well but that had long since left. Though, coming back here and seeing his belongings is a comfort.

"Ouch, skita (shit)!" I wince and suck in a sharp breath as my eyes water from the sting of her tender touch. A cloth, warmed by the hearth fire in her room dabs at the sensitive wound on my face as she cleans it.

"Don't be a man, Tove." She smiles and I smirk at her insult of the male kind.

She continues to dab and clean the slash across my face, "I am so happy you've returned, my friend." She says ringing out the cloth inside a wooden bowl.

I brace myself for her gentle touches and don't respond when she cleans into my open skin. "Please stay with me tonight? I've hated sleeping alone these last months."

"Of course," I tell her and she rests a knee beside me as she cleans the cloth again. "I've been so lonely, Tove." Sadness fills her eyes and she looks sullen into the bowl of dirty water resting in my hands.

My heart aches for her, "He will come back, I feel it in my bones."

Svea perks up, "Do you? This eases my anxiety. I feel the Gods have tethered you and Leif together. You are my lifeline to him. If you say he will come back, I believe you."

I don't know if we are tethered as she believes but Leif and I have a bond I've never had with anyone else. It's like he is an extension of myself. We can speak to each other without saying, and we can feel what each other feels. When he bleeds, I bleed. If Leif were never to come back or if he is in Valhalla, I would know it.

"Besides," She straightens her shoulders and takes the bowl from my hands, "He's yet to give me a child. So his duty as a man isn't fulfilled." Her beautiful face twists up into a devilish smile and I chuckle.

"There you see," I say leaning back on her bed, "He's obligated to you. Valhalla must wait until you've been given a child." I tease her back.

Svea feigns a glare and slaps my thigh then takes a smaller bowl, this one of stone with a paste inside it. "We will apply this nightly." She tells me and I sniff the bowl and gag at the ripe smell of what smells of horse droppings.

"Why must you smell everything?" She giggles and yanks it away before I cast it against the wall.

I laugh loudly and fall back onto her bed, appreciating how soft it is. Tonight, I will sleep like a baby.

Then, suddenly we both freeze as we hear the horns blow twice, silencing Ormensthorpe.

Svea gasps, and I sit up straight, my lips curving upwards into a smile.

"Leif!" She screams throwing the stone bowl to a cluttered table and twists around. The horn sounded twice, letting the clan's people know of ships coming to dock.

My heart pounds in my chest and I leap from the bed and follow quickly after Svea. She gathers her skirts and we both run outside and follow the crowd of people who also are running for the docks.

In the distance, centered between the two peaks that cut into the sea my eyes spot the red sails. The sails with the Orm symbol threaded into them. "It is Leif," I breathe out, and Svea grips my hand as we reach the docks and run across the wood boards.

The sea brings in the salty smell and the wind blows strong, bringing the ship quickly into the harbor as more and more villagers collect on the dock and shore.

"I am filled with nerves, Tove," Svea grips my arm tightly as her body trembles next to mine as we wait at the edge of the dock.

"Nerves? Are you not excited to see your husband?" I ask her, confused as to why she'd be wracked with nerves.

"It's been two winters. A lot can happen, a lot can change. I'm afraid he won't be the same man as when I last saw him."

"Leif will never change. You have no reason to worry." I assure her and offer her a smile.

Her blonde brows screw upward but she nods once, "Thank you, Tove. You know him better than anyone. Your reassurance is as good as his."

<><><>Glossary<><><>

Harpa - Summer. The Vikings only had 2 seasons. Summer and winter. However, within the seasons they were broken up into different tiers. Harpa is the very start of summer.

There wasn't action in this chapter, I hope that's okay.

What do we think of this new character, Svea?

Thanks for reading!