Gjalp sighed, leaning back on her rock.
She was bored.
Of course, this wasn't an uncommon event. Gjalp was often bored, as other witches often were too. Witches were creatures of action, motion and excitement.
Witches were a type of female jotun. They had the black hair that females had, though theirs was usually coarser and lacked the silky sheen others had. Their skin was a slightly darker shade of blue than the slightly gray coloration normal jotun possessed. Slight points adorned their ears, and the sharp edge of fangs was more obvious in witches than the common jotun. A witch's eyes had slitted pupils, spokes of orange fanning out into the ruby. Their legs were longer in comparison to their body, but they were shorter than the average jotun.
They weren't, however, the smallest of the jotun.
What they were was the best mothers, the nastiest of fighters, and the second-best magic-users.
Gjalp blinked, noticing a beam of golden light arching through the sky, shot through with streaks of rainbow colors, to touch down in the distance.
Hm.
Now, if stories her father and Gunnlod told her were true, that was the Bifrost.
Asgardians hadn't been to Jotunheim since the end of the war at the time of her birth. She was fairly certain that the fragile peace-treaty between their worlds forbade it.
Curiosity peaked and edged with excitement at being able to do something, Gjalp slipped off her rock.
Greip wouldn't notice if she wasn't home for dinner, right?
The young witch set off at a steady lope towards the site of the Bifrost-opening.