TWELVE YEARS PRIOR TO CURRENT DAY
Five of the blessed generation are sent on a quest of strength and serendipity to secure resources for the coming winter. Three weeks in, they get caught in a vicious early-autumn storm. Rain turned to hail which eased into snow, but frost now blankets the forests north of Yaggr Hall.
It hurt to breathe. To open her mouth. To inhale the frigid, smoke laced air. She was thankful for its warmth, there was little doubt of that, but still, the smoke stung her eyes as she tried to sleep and her lungs as she tried to breathe and her pride at the inability to move beyond its red-hot benevolence even for a moment. She tried not to sigh— it would surely wake Svenson beside her and alert Blom to her premature rise.
She'd already peeked; dusk had not yet settled into the landscape. She and Lars were to take the night watch and another hour or so would do them well when the night settled in and the forest came alive with the sounds of beasts. The past few nights had been quiet. Eerily so, and it left a bad taste in her mouth, with an itchy frustration not unlike a piece of gristle stuck between one's tooth.
Skaggi Unfrid grit her teeth at the thought, the constant chattering of teeth and idle complaints from her companions rattling between her ears amidst her own doubts and worries.
"It's too fucking cold."
"Aye, it is. Too cold to fuckin' hunt and I'm hungry."
"Shouldn't've scarfed down yer rations like that—"
"My beard's starting to freeze."
"Fuck off, Blom, so are my balls." Ebbe spat, continuing on. "We're lucky we found that wolf pack and whittled it down early."
"Yeah, any larger and they'd get arrogant enough to go south and pick off the sheep in one large go. Like they did when we were kids, remember?"
"Well yeah, I do— but the pelts came in handy, too. Hate to think of us waiting this out without them."
"Aye, true."
Skaggi let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, the tension in her body temporarily removed. It was true; the wolves had been fortuitous. Each of them laid under a mound of furs and pelts, like trolls under their own shaggy knolls and she was thankful.
But that itch behind her naval, that stench of fear she could taste at the back of her throat?
Skaggi inhaled. It burned her nostrils, her lungs. She exhaled. A plume of fog tickled her nose.
She no longer felt the rhythmic breathing against her back, the minute vibrations between the stacked pelts and the languid, half-frozen bodies cramped in the shallow grotto. The conversation continued on but Skaggi dismissed them, reached into her mind and then projected.
Lars? Should we try and scout before the sun goes down? Try and find a fox or a squirrel since sleep seems to evade us?
Five of the blessed generation are sent on a quest of strength and serendipity to secure resources for the coming winter. Three weeks in, they get caught in a vicious early-autumn storm. Rain turned to hail which eased into snow, but frost now blankets the forests north of Yaggr Hall.
It hurt to breathe. To open her mouth. To inhale the frigid, smoke laced air. She was thankful for its warmth, there was little doubt of that, but still, the smoke stung her eyes as she tried to sleep and her lungs as she tried to breathe and her pride at the inability to move beyond its red-hot benevolence even for a moment. She tried not to sigh— it would surely wake Svenson beside her and alert Blom to her premature rise.
She'd already peeked; dusk had not yet settled into the landscape. She and Lars were to take the night watch and another hour or so would do them well when the night settled in and the forest came alive with the sounds of beasts. The past few nights had been quiet. Eerily so, and it left a bad taste in her mouth, with an itchy frustration not unlike a piece of gristle stuck between one's tooth.
Skaggi Unfrid grit her teeth at the thought, the constant chattering of teeth and idle complaints from her companions rattling between her ears amidst her own doubts and worries.
"It's too fucking cold."
"Aye, it is. Too cold to fuckin' hunt and I'm hungry."
"Shouldn't've scarfed down yer rations like that—"
"My beard's starting to freeze."
"Fuck off, Blom, so are my balls." Ebbe spat, continuing on. "We're lucky we found that wolf pack and whittled it down early."
"Yeah, any larger and they'd get arrogant enough to go south and pick off the sheep in one large go. Like they did when we were kids, remember?"
"Well yeah, I do— but the pelts came in handy, too. Hate to think of us waiting this out without them."
"Aye, true."
Skaggi let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, the tension in her body temporarily removed. It was true; the wolves had been fortuitous. Each of them laid under a mound of furs and pelts, like trolls under their own shaggy knolls and she was thankful.
But that itch behind her naval, that stench of fear she could taste at the back of her throat?
Skaggi inhaled. It burned her nostrils, her lungs. She exhaled. A plume of fog tickled her nose.
She no longer felt the rhythmic breathing against her back, the minute vibrations between the stacked pelts and the languid, half-frozen bodies cramped in the shallow grotto. The conversation continued on but Skaggi dismissed them, reached into her mind and then projected.
Lars? Should we try and scout before the sun goes down? Try and find a fox or a squirrel since sleep seems to evade us?
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The hammer ringing rang out in the void Lars found himself in.
It was steady, but Lars could not find the source in the darkness despite the man's efforts. That was until a dancing light behind him beat back the darkness. A familiar heat came to his back, causing him to turn. Turning, he saw the forge of his home, with the silhouette of his father framed by the light of the forge in front of him. Lar was about to call his father, but he remembered that one would not disturb the smith during his craft unless called on by the smith.
The young man did not have to wait long as his father spoke with a voice that echoed, " Lars, son of mine, All-father has blessed you. Remember that always."
This was the same scene before he left with this group to hunt for the winter. He did not have time to respond as the vision faded, and he slowly returned to consciousness. The smell of smoke, the air's chill, and the fire's heat assaulted him all at once as he began to wake up fully. Ever observant, he heard Skaggi's voice in his head. He could still feel her back against his telling him she had not let the others know they were awake. Lars then focused his mind on Skaggi before he projected back to her in return, " Anything is better than listening to them howl their frustrations any longer."
Lars was then the one to stir, gaining notice as the largest form of the group moved from the pile of furs. Lars stretched as he sat up, saying," Skaggi and I are going to go scout. We cannot sleep with this buzzing."
"Ahh, screw you, Svenson. You are like a bear when you sleep. If we skinned you, then we'd never have to worry about the cold again." Modi stated before throwing a rib bone at the larger man, which bounced off his back as it hit.
Lars ignored this and moved some of the furs he was under, revealing his sword, bow, and quiver. He was geared up in moments, pulling the hood over his head and hiding his blonde locks. Turning to Skaggi, he projected to her again, "I think scouting southward would be best. I have heard that there has been more movement there."
Maybe in some other countries, the South meant warmth, but here in his homeland, the South held just as many snowy sheets as the North did. It was not until they began to venture into the territories of the sister tribes that the water was not frozen. Once Skaggi was ready, he moved to the entrance of the grotto. It would be dark soon, and that meant more predators on the prowl, and they were at a disadvantage when it came to sight with the darkness of the night. When Skaggi joined him, he looked over to her and reached out again, asking," Is there something on your mind? Usually, it is no issue for you to slumber."
It was steady, but Lars could not find the source in the darkness despite the man's efforts. That was until a dancing light behind him beat back the darkness. A familiar heat came to his back, causing him to turn. Turning, he saw the forge of his home, with the silhouette of his father framed by the light of the forge in front of him. Lar was about to call his father, but he remembered that one would not disturb the smith during his craft unless called on by the smith.
The young man did not have to wait long as his father spoke with a voice that echoed, " Lars, son of mine, All-father has blessed you. Remember that always."
This was the same scene before he left with this group to hunt for the winter. He did not have time to respond as the vision faded, and he slowly returned to consciousness. The smell of smoke, the air's chill, and the fire's heat assaulted him all at once as he began to wake up fully. Ever observant, he heard Skaggi's voice in his head. He could still feel her back against his telling him she had not let the others know they were awake. Lars then focused his mind on Skaggi before he projected back to her in return, " Anything is better than listening to them howl their frustrations any longer."
Lars was then the one to stir, gaining notice as the largest form of the group moved from the pile of furs. Lars stretched as he sat up, saying," Skaggi and I are going to go scout. We cannot sleep with this buzzing."
"Ahh, screw you, Svenson. You are like a bear when you sleep. If we skinned you, then we'd never have to worry about the cold again." Modi stated before throwing a rib bone at the larger man, which bounced off his back as it hit.
Lars ignored this and moved some of the furs he was under, revealing his sword, bow, and quiver. He was geared up in moments, pulling the hood over his head and hiding his blonde locks. Turning to Skaggi, he projected to her again, "I think scouting southward would be best. I have heard that there has been more movement there."
Maybe in some other countries, the South meant warmth, but here in his homeland, the South held just as many snowy sheets as the North did. It was not until they began to venture into the territories of the sister tribes that the water was not frozen. Once Skaggi was ready, he moved to the entrance of the grotto. It would be dark soon, and that meant more predators on the prowl, and they were at a disadvantage when it came to sight with the darkness of the night. When Skaggi joined him, he looked over to her and reached out again, asking," Is there something on your mind? Usually, it is no issue for you to slumber."
It was true, of course, and Skaggi had already proven her ability to sleep damn near anywhere since the moment their hunt began. Her favorite was back to back with Lars or Ebbe, both were a veritable, steady strength, their deep breaths a shallow rocking motion that lulled her to sleep instantly. The same stood true for the trunks of ancient weeping spruce, their resinous tang as pleasant in her nose as the warmth of their ten thousand needles that draped around her. With a sigh that morphed into a sneeze, Skaggi unsheathed herself and her weapons from the mound of furs she slept beneath and readied herself without an audible word.
And if we skinned you, Modi, there'd barely be enough to string up.
Skaggi exited their shallow grotto abode without a backwards glance at the rest of her blessed companions. She missed Tove and her sparkling song of a voice. The remaining four of their generation had stayed behind, not receiving the missive for this particular quest. Skaggi hated it. The fact that she was chosen. Well, not entirely, but she was sick of the jowls that grunted out nothing but howls and constant quippy complaints. True, the storm that assailed them was absolute shit, but it was expected, given the circumstance.
This was as much about proving to the allfather that they were worth his blessing as it was procuring necessary goods for the harsh winter to come. It was a shame too, that they'd be unable to rendezvous with Tuve's twin brother, Stigr, and his sled dogs. There would be no update then, this month, from the village elders and their families. Though thankfully most of the wolf meat had already been sent back to be properly prepared and stored for the days ahead.
Thank you, Skaggi projected gratefully, rubbing at her temples beneath her thick fur-lined hood. It didn't really do the trick, the mittens lacked the finesse to do much besides grasping her axes. She'd have to take them off soon, when the hunt began and she'd need to nock, draw, and loose at a moment's notice. The bow was an excellent weapon, especially when your aim was steady and true— but she still preferred the weight in her palm and the dexterous swing of an axe overhead. South would be good, I think. Moror Ernah says some of the smaller game animals head south during this time too. Maybe we'll get lucky and catch something bigger than a squirrel."
She turned and searched Lars' face when he posed the question, a smooth transition in weight from her right to her left and she stared at him hard. Her nose still tickled from the earlier sneeze and she was tempted to lie. It would be easy, really. But she wouldn't, not to Lars— not that she could if she wanted to. "It's just— " How could she put it in words? A fylgjan premonition?
I just have a bad feeling, is all. Like an itch that's just out of reach. For the past few days, She shook her head, turning away and glaring off into the snow blanketed trees. She led the way forward, south by southwest, and continued the conversation, Something has just felt wrong. It's putting me on edge.
And if we skinned you, Modi, there'd barely be enough to string up.
Skaggi exited their shallow grotto abode without a backwards glance at the rest of her blessed companions. She missed Tove and her sparkling song of a voice. The remaining four of their generation had stayed behind, not receiving the missive for this particular quest. Skaggi hated it. The fact that she was chosen. Well, not entirely, but she was sick of the jowls that grunted out nothing but howls and constant quippy complaints. True, the storm that assailed them was absolute shit, but it was expected, given the circumstance.
This was as much about proving to the allfather that they were worth his blessing as it was procuring necessary goods for the harsh winter to come. It was a shame too, that they'd be unable to rendezvous with Tuve's twin brother, Stigr, and his sled dogs. There would be no update then, this month, from the village elders and their families. Though thankfully most of the wolf meat had already been sent back to be properly prepared and stored for the days ahead.
Thank you, Skaggi projected gratefully, rubbing at her temples beneath her thick fur-lined hood. It didn't really do the trick, the mittens lacked the finesse to do much besides grasping her axes. She'd have to take them off soon, when the hunt began and she'd need to nock, draw, and loose at a moment's notice. The bow was an excellent weapon, especially when your aim was steady and true— but she still preferred the weight in her palm and the dexterous swing of an axe overhead. South would be good, I think. Moror Ernah says some of the smaller game animals head south during this time too. Maybe we'll get lucky and catch something bigger than a squirrel."
She turned and searched Lars' face when he posed the question, a smooth transition in weight from her right to her left and she stared at him hard. Her nose still tickled from the earlier sneeze and she was tempted to lie. It would be easy, really. But she wouldn't, not to Lars— not that she could if she wanted to. "It's just— " How could she put it in words? A fylgjan premonition?
I just have a bad feeling, is all. Like an itch that's just out of reach. For the past few days, She shook her head, turning away and glaring off into the snow blanketed trees. She led the way forward, south by southwest, and continued the conversation, Something has just felt wrong. It's putting me on edge.
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Despite the young man's size, the crunch beneath Lar's footstep could be mistaken for someone half his size. Being of a larger size and a broader build, he had to learn how to minimize his presence when needed. This is where his stalking technique came in. He would step, but all the weight would be on his opposite foot minimizing the crunch of snow beneath him. It took focus and concentration so he could not move too fast, but it was perfect for their current job. They continued down their desired direction, and Lars took a few moments to ponder Skaggi's words. He would respond when they took a knee to wait and see if a creature would come by.
"Hm... I can't say I have had the same feeling, but this hunt has been different. I had a dream, or maybe a warning."
He was about to elaborate, but he heard a crunch of snow ahead of them, and instinctively he lowered himself to be more camouflaged with the mounting snow. Slowly, he would pull off his gloves, the cold instantly biting at his exposed flesh, and methodically notched an arrow, careful not to make sudden movements. His eyes focused on the snow-laden wood ahead of him. His breathing slowed as he prepared to draw the bow. A few moments passed, and he thought they had spooked the animal. He noticed a mound of snow moving; he had to focus, but what he saw was a white-fur fox. He pointed to it, allowing Skaggi to see it, and he projected,
"I think we should track it. Make sure it is not caring for cubs. I will follow your lead, regardless."
Lars was not an imbecile by any means, but he was enough of a man to know where his strengths were, and they were not in a forge. Deferring to Skaggi was not anything new to him. She was a brilliant warrior with just as brilliant a mind and spirit. Lars then focused back on the fox, having to take a moment to find it again and focus on it. The issue came when they did not have to wait long to choose as there was a sudden clang of metal, a pained yelp from the fox, and a spatter of blood-staining white snow and fur alike.
A bear trap was not a method his people used to hunt as it had no honor to hunt an animal who could no long flee. Lars looked over to Skaggi, and with a word, he nodded and said a small prayer as he drew his bow back," All-father, Ullr, let this shot be swift and grant mercy to the one that has been dishonored." There was a final creak of the bow, a reverb as the strong was released, and in a moment, the creatures suffering ended. Lar's then reached up, broke a thick branch from the tree beside him, and held out the stick to Skaggi as he stepped behind her. "I will be sure we are not surprised."
"Hm... I can't say I have had the same feeling, but this hunt has been different. I had a dream, or maybe a warning."
He was about to elaborate, but he heard a crunch of snow ahead of them, and instinctively he lowered himself to be more camouflaged with the mounting snow. Slowly, he would pull off his gloves, the cold instantly biting at his exposed flesh, and methodically notched an arrow, careful not to make sudden movements. His eyes focused on the snow-laden wood ahead of him. His breathing slowed as he prepared to draw the bow. A few moments passed, and he thought they had spooked the animal. He noticed a mound of snow moving; he had to focus, but what he saw was a white-fur fox. He pointed to it, allowing Skaggi to see it, and he projected,
"I think we should track it. Make sure it is not caring for cubs. I will follow your lead, regardless."
Lars was not an imbecile by any means, but he was enough of a man to know where his strengths were, and they were not in a forge. Deferring to Skaggi was not anything new to him. She was a brilliant warrior with just as brilliant a mind and spirit. Lars then focused back on the fox, having to take a moment to find it again and focus on it. The issue came when they did not have to wait long to choose as there was a sudden clang of metal, a pained yelp from the fox, and a spatter of blood-staining white snow and fur alike.
A bear trap was not a method his people used to hunt as it had no honor to hunt an animal who could no long flee. Lars looked over to Skaggi, and with a word, he nodded and said a small prayer as he drew his bow back," All-father, Ullr, let this shot be swift and grant mercy to the one that has been dishonored." There was a final creak of the bow, a reverb as the strong was released, and in a moment, the creatures suffering ended. Lar's then reached up, broke a thick branch from the tree beside him, and held out the stick to Skaggi as he stepped behind her. "I will be sure we are not surprised."
A fylgjan premonition... It truly must be, Skaggi thought as Sven's arrow whizzed past, the breath of mercy warm against her cheek. For a moment her face was contorted in rage and disgust, not at the blood painting the snow-white ground in a macabre sense of injustice, but of the cowardice contraption that so easily stole a life. Where was the honor in such a kill? Where was the skill that took to hunt, track, and slay the animal that would provide sustenance and salvation from the ache of hunger?
It was a disgrace and Skaggi, blessed and graced in spades, hated to witness such things.
She felt her eyes prick at the sudden swell of emotion within her and she did not try to hide it. There was no shame in her heart. The tears streaked halfway down her tears before they crystallized upon her cheeks. Skaggi bowed her head in thanks as she took the branch from Sven, crouching low and stalking forward. The stance would be awkward looking if anyone else tried it; instead Skaggi resembled a snow lynx, speckled white fur cloak hid her center of mass that was tucked in tight and she dragged the branch along the ground in front of her.
A growl of dissatisfaction spilled from Skaggi when she found not one but three more bear traps. She set off each and every one with a vindicative satisfaction, hoping— praying that the trapper would come and reveal themselves.
"Poachers?" Skaggi projected. "What should we do about this, Svenson?"
It was a disgrace and Skaggi, blessed and graced in spades, hated to witness such things.
She felt her eyes prick at the sudden swell of emotion within her and she did not try to hide it. There was no shame in her heart. The tears streaked halfway down her tears before they crystallized upon her cheeks. Skaggi bowed her head in thanks as she took the branch from Sven, crouching low and stalking forward. The stance would be awkward looking if anyone else tried it; instead Skaggi resembled a snow lynx, speckled white fur cloak hid her center of mass that was tucked in tight and she dragged the branch along the ground in front of her.
A growl of dissatisfaction spilled from Skaggi when she found not one but three more bear traps. She set off each and every one with a vindicative satisfaction, hoping— praying that the trapper would come and reveal themselves.
"Poachers?" Skaggi projected. "What should we do about this, Svenson?"
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Lar's said nothing about her tears as he felt similar ones well up within his chest. Lars would call himself a passable hunter, but never would he turn and use such a dishonorable. In the forge, there were no shortcuts. Your work would prove itself on the first use of the blade, and along with that, any inadequacies would show. There was honor in that toil, though, and even in the failure, but this held no honor, and Lars felt that even the All-Father himself would shed a tear for the dishonor brought onto the dead creature. No tears might have come to his cheeks, but the sadness and hurt felt by Skaggi was not touched by her alone.
When his companion took the branch, he took a knee, notching a new arrow, and began to scan the treeline ahead of them. If Skaggi looked like a lynx prowling through the snow, he looked like a great bear. Snow mixed with the browns of his furs as he knelt there, watching the lynx stalk ahead.
He watched as each of the other three traps was triggered, and he began to plan their next steps. When Skaggi's voice entered his mind, he looked at her and motioned for her to return before he projected," It might be dangerous, but we wait in the snow for them to return. With the storm, they have to have a camp nearby. Our tracks will be hidden soon enough."
Once they agreed with the plan, they began to erase their presence, and before long, the two had vanished from sight with the only hint they were there was a slightly larger snow mound close to a tree. They were squeezed close, with Lars covering Skaggi to take the weight of the snow. Despite her being more durable than him due to her lineage, he would still do his best to protect her, and he was a more prominent target, so when he revealed himself, their eyes would be drawn to him.
So they waited there but did not know how long it had been, but finally, there was muffled talking coming from the east of them.
The talking and muffled crunching of the snow got closer until the talking and crunching finally stopped just a few yards ahead of them where the sprung trapped lay. A large hand gripped the hilt of his blade as he took a deep breath and projected," Now."
It sounded almost like a landslide of snow followed by a bellowing war cry as the man jumped from his prone position and charged forward with the shield in front of him and the sword at his side. The poachers had been caught off guard as expected, and there were four of them, but one of them fell as Lar's sword cleaved its way into their shoulder with a sickening noise of bone cracking and muscles tearing apart.
When his companion took the branch, he took a knee, notching a new arrow, and began to scan the treeline ahead of them. If Skaggi looked like a lynx prowling through the snow, he looked like a great bear. Snow mixed with the browns of his furs as he knelt there, watching the lynx stalk ahead.
He watched as each of the other three traps was triggered, and he began to plan their next steps. When Skaggi's voice entered his mind, he looked at her and motioned for her to return before he projected," It might be dangerous, but we wait in the snow for them to return. With the storm, they have to have a camp nearby. Our tracks will be hidden soon enough."
Once they agreed with the plan, they began to erase their presence, and before long, the two had vanished from sight with the only hint they were there was a slightly larger snow mound close to a tree. They were squeezed close, with Lars covering Skaggi to take the weight of the snow. Despite her being more durable than him due to her lineage, he would still do his best to protect her, and he was a more prominent target, so when he revealed himself, their eyes would be drawn to him.
So they waited there but did not know how long it had been, but finally, there was muffled talking coming from the east of them.
The talking and muffled crunching of the snow got closer until the talking and crunching finally stopped just a few yards ahead of them where the sprung trapped lay. A large hand gripped the hilt of his blade as he took a deep breath and projected," Now."
It sounded almost like a landslide of snow followed by a bellowing war cry as the man jumped from his prone position and charged forward with the shield in front of him and the sword at his side. The poachers had been caught off guard as expected, and there were four of them, but one of them fell as Lar's sword cleaved its way into their shoulder with a sickening noise of bone cracking and muscles tearing apart.
The bear lunged forward with a deafening roar, the lynx stalked forward out of sight, a speckled blur against the blood-stained snow. Skaggi could hear bones crunching beneath the weight of Lars' blows and the crunch of fresh snow as the others backed up in haste. She refused to let any escape. Skaggi slid into her stance now behind them, for half a heartbeat she locked eyes with Lars and then her rampage began, without any of them realizing they had a beast in front and a beast behind.
Skaggi had seen other dual wielders, fought some as well, and they always tended to favor one arm over the other. They'd block with one religiously, attack with the other, but Skaggi showed no preference. She attacked the man in front of her with both hand axes simultaneously, two deep blows to either side of his neck. Warm, preciously warm blood splattered and gushed against her face and she spat it out at the next man, the quicker of the two to realize they were being ambushed.
He got a good slash against her arm, the wound not as bad as it could have been, though it slashed right through the leather strap that held her vambrace together. Skaggi danced backwards, light on her feet, and shook it off. It was unneeded, she decided.
Emboldened by his strike and the sight of blood, the poacher stood his ground, smiling at her with broken teeth.
Skaggi smiled back, disgusted but taking the challenge, and roared as she lunged forward. However, the roar was projected, and as expected, took him aback. That tiny moment— that slack in his jaw? The slack grip of his sword? That was all Skaggi needed to take advantage of the battle. She used two hands and two axes, swung together and in one motion to decapitate him.
She let out a bark of a laugh, "The forest and all of it's creatures will be protected from the likes of you."
The gods demand it.
While the battle seemed to be going in their favor, something stalked closer from the heart of the forest, and a howl ripped through the trees, sending every nesting bird and critter to flee. Skaggi didn't seem to notice it, though she seemed to be consumed with preforming the Alfather's duty on earth.
Skaggi had seen other dual wielders, fought some as well, and they always tended to favor one arm over the other. They'd block with one religiously, attack with the other, but Skaggi showed no preference. She attacked the man in front of her with both hand axes simultaneously, two deep blows to either side of his neck. Warm, preciously warm blood splattered and gushed against her face and she spat it out at the next man, the quicker of the two to realize they were being ambushed.
He got a good slash against her arm, the wound not as bad as it could have been, though it slashed right through the leather strap that held her vambrace together. Skaggi danced backwards, light on her feet, and shook it off. It was unneeded, she decided.
Emboldened by his strike and the sight of blood, the poacher stood his ground, smiling at her with broken teeth.
Skaggi smiled back, disgusted but taking the challenge, and roared as she lunged forward. However, the roar was projected, and as expected, took him aback. That tiny moment— that slack in his jaw? The slack grip of his sword? That was all Skaggi needed to take advantage of the battle. She used two hands and two axes, swung together and in one motion to decapitate him.
She let out a bark of a laugh, "The forest and all of it's creatures will be protected from the likes of you."
The gods demand it.
While the battle seemed to be going in their favor, something stalked closer from the heart of the forest, and a howl ripped through the trees, sending every nesting bird and critter to flee. Skaggi didn't seem to notice it, though she seemed to be consumed with preforming the Alfather's duty on earth.