Einn | 01.| the wolf, the girl and the ragnarsson

SILENT were the trees, Hvitserk thought as he washed himself in the stream.

The birds sung, but trees were still, as if the wind had become tired playing in their leaves and ruffling the grass. Even the icy stream seemed to flow slower than it usually did. Hvitserk wondered if the snow had become stuck in the mountains, it usually flooded everything at this time.

He scrubbed his skin, his chest red as he hovered over the water, leather pants still on as he tipped his fingers into the stream and then slid them over his braids. He cupped his hands and reached for the water, it ran over his fingers, over his wrists and he welcomed the pinching coldness that reddened his hands. He raised his hands out of water, droplets running down his skin and landing in the stream. He washed his face, washing away the mud and droplets of boar blood that had already dried to dark brown. Some of it had dried into his hair, staining the golden hair red.

He stood up, inhaling the earthy smells and cherishing the smell of rain. As he opened his moss green eyes, he stilled. The air seemed to vibrate and his instincts became alert. Swiftly, he hopped over the stream, dropping his shirt on his feet as he slowly reached for the knife on his belt. Hvitserk was a brother, a warrior and a hunter. He listened to the whispers of the trees, shuffling in the moss and crackling of twigs. They spoke to every hunter, and his heart, it always started beating harder and faster whenever there was to be blood spilled. 

He raised the knife higher as he took a careful step closer to a wet oak tree. He tilted his head, inspecting the rough bark or more specifically the dark blood on it, a hand print. Fresh, not dried yet. He inched closer, peeking out from behind the tree, expecting to be met with a corpse or an outlaw, or maybe some pitiful Christian man who had thought it was wise to wander to the land of vikings. 

However, what he saw was rather surprising, making him almost drop the hunting knife Ragnar had gifted him when he was just a wee boy. 

Flaming hair was the first thing he noticed, it was long and thick and the rays of morning sun seemed to mirror right off it. It was knotted and dirty but mesmerizing nevertheless, and Hvitserk had the urge to comb his fingers through it. He couldna see the girls face, for she was sitting with her back towards him. Her skin was milky white, almost ethereal. But there was also darkness to her, written on her porcelain skin in long, jagged scars that reached over his petite back and black and blue bruises that littered her torso. 

However, Hvitserk wondered why was she naked. He almost stepped out from behind the tree, but a loud crunch made him freeze and draw back. He squinted his eyes, trying to understand what the strange woman was doing. Then he saw, a small creature was limp before her, a rabbit with its guts pulled out neatly. His breath hitched when he realized what she was doing. The woman was devouring raw meat, pulling it with her teeth as if she was a feral dog. As soon as he took a sharp intake of air, the woman whipped her head around. Hvitserk froze, taking in her delicate face, the blood that covered her chin, her mesmerizing blue eyes. 

And as she studied him, Hvitserk thought he was done for. 

If this was the forest fae Aslaug had told him about when he was a boy, there was no chance he would live. He had already looked into her eyes. But what happened next left him gobsmacked. The woman turned around and took a leap into the air. She landed softly on four legs, the delicate skin of her round ass and petite waist covered in long and magnificent fur of a largest wolf Hvitserk had ever seen. It didn't even give him another glance as it dashed into the forest "Wait!" within just four large leaps, the creature was gone from his line of sight, leaving behind two dead rabbits and adrenaline filled Hvitserk whose legs seemed to be glued to the ground.