Good morning, Little Ones, or should I say Smár Einn!
I just want to take a moment and thank you all so much for reading, and for those that leave me reviews thank you thank you! It brings me so much joy to see you all so engaged with this story!
A few have asked about EPOV. It will happen later in this story, but for now we are firmly on Bella's path.
Thank you to Mel and Jill.
.: Átján :.
It's late, though it's hard to tell because the sun has still not set. It settles near the horizon, a dimmed light, but never quite extinguished.
Supper was a few hours ago, and the family have all dispersed into nightly activities. Rúna and Arni have taken their children to swim at the lake near the house, and Josurr is helping Eydís with something. I have a moment, completely free for once, and I take advantage of it.
I head outside toward the woods. The family no longer seems to fear my escape, and rightly so. From what I've been able to gather, we are utterly alone out here. Even if I did run, who is to say what I would be running to? In one direction is a forest so thick I can't see anything unless it's standing directly at the tree-line, and in another direction are mountains so big it's almost hard to look at the entirety of them. I know we are up the mountain slightly, as there is a river that runs downhill, but I've never seen anything beyond this area.
The woods immediately around the homestead have become familiar to me. They are so different from the forests I grew up in, and despite the foreignness of these woods, they also feel so much more like home than the trees back home ever did. It's a frightening thought that I don't let myself dwell on for long. No matter how comfortable I am here, I can't stay. It's not my world, and sooner or later, I know I'll have to go back.
It's something I'm coming to dread more and more each day.
The birds above me are singing an unfamiliar song, and I glance up at the branches, admiring their melodies.
"Fugl," I murmur to myself, remembering the word for bird. I catch sight of iridescent wings as they rush between branches and smile.
I'm distracted by the birds, and when I finally take my eyes off the trees above, I realize I'm not sure where I am anymore. I pause, turning in my spot, looking for anything remotely familiar. It's all foreign.
Dread creeps over me, and I suck in a deep breath, trying to keep calm.
I go still, my ears desperately reaching for any familiar noise. Suddenly the bird song isn't sweet; it's thundering, blocking out any other sound that could help guide me back.
I feel frantic, and I'm about to start spiraling when I hear a low rumble of a voice speaking. I look left, my eyes and ears straining. I don't hear it again, but it's enough. I take off through the trees, searching.
My heart is racing so hard, it's all I can hear pounding in my ears. I'm dizzy with my fear of being lost to these woods.
I'm so frightened that the moment my eyes land on Edvard, I sob.
He turns, startled at my sudden appearance, and my relief is so great that I am moved toward him, flinging my arms around him. "I was lost." I sob into his chest. I feel his arms come up, gently holding me to him, and it makes me cry harder. "I feared I wouldn't ever make it back," I continue, knowing he can't understand me, but needing to get the words out all the same. "I was so frightened, but then I heard you. Thank you, thank you." I sob into him.
"Bella." His voice is deep and so soft, it makes me shiver. He gently pulls me back, taking my face into his large calloused hands. I blink past the tears stuck to my eyelashes. "Hvat er þat, Smár Einn?"
He's said these words to me before, and I can't help but wonder if the last set of words are a term of endearment. I don't know what they mean, but it feels so personal.
I take a deep breath and point to the trees. "Ek koma á," I say, knowing I'm probably butchering his language. "Fugl." I point up and I glance up to demonstrate. I look back at him and shake my head, even though he's still holding me between his palms.
"þú vóro látumk," he breathes.
"Lost," I whisper, nodding my head.
He sighs.
"Smár Einn," he murmurs, his thumbs brushing the tears from my cheeks.
I'm suddenly very aware of the intimacy of the moment. It frightens me as much as it thrills me, and I still in his hands.
"I wish we had more moments to be alone." It feels like such a dangerous admission, even though I know he won't know what I'm saying. He must understand though, from my face or my body language, because he moves closer to me. My heart seizes in my chest, frantic with conflicting emotions.
He's going to kiss me. I know it with a certainty I cannot name. Just as I know I will kiss him back with everything that I am.
He shifts, his head bending toward mine ever so slightly. As he moves, something flashes, catching my eye. I glance past him, to see what he was doing before I appeared, and my blood runs cold.
I don't understand what I'm looking at beyond the bloody chicken and the carved pieces of bone spread out around it. It looks Satanic, some sort of demonic ritual, and it frightens me to my very core.
My eyes flicker back to Edvard's just as he seems to realize what I've caught him doing. Before he can say anything, I yank myself out of his arms and run back into the forest.