ELSEWHERE

The boy was caught lingering on the outskirts of the reaver settlement. He was delirious and rambling on about a pale man and magical axe. Then men dragged him back but only after giving him the beating of his life.

The settlement was a meandering accumulation of makeshift log houses, thatch huts and tents. The structures were centered around a long house that the seiðr witch, Svana, claimed as her personal quarters. The reavers had gathered from across the furthest reaches realm and all had answered her rallying call. Under any normal circumstances they would have been natural enemies to one another. But united under the banner of the White Wolf, men who were once enemies became battle-brothers. There was to be no bloodshed among their ranks, that is unless a traitor was found in their midst. Under the White Wolf, there was only the strong - both in body and in spirit. Anything less were lambs to the slaughter.

As Svana gathered more followers they made their meager shelters around her longhouse like moths circling a flame. They knew very little about the witch or where she had come from. They didn't even know her real name so they gave her one of their own. It meant 'swan-like' for her white hair and pale features. They kept a respectable distance around the dwelling, even the grass dared not grow without permission within the radius. They dared not cross the threshold into her chambers without explicit invitation. To do otherwise would be death.

Two men dragged Halvar's limp body through the muddied central road. Halvar could barely see the swirling ground beneath him through his swollen eyes. Everything ached but the worst of it was that they hadn't killed him. They were bringing him toward the longhouse to face Svana's judgement and she was not known for her mercy.

From the corner of his eye he caught sight of the pens, massive cages made from iron and wood. Inside them were catches that the others hunting parties had made. They seemed good enough stock - mostly men who had probably been farmers or hunters. A few women, some of which clung to their offspring and their husbands. Svana didn't prefer children, they had so little to offer the witch. But blood was blood and she didn't much care where it came from.

Dread pulled in Halvar's stomach as the men dragged him closer. Halvar could tell that they had crossed that invisible radius that surrounded the longhouse. Rich, grassy soil turned dry, cracked and crumbly as he was brought closer. The air shifted, like the sudden drop in pressure before a storm, and an eerie quiet settled in Halvar's bones as he accepted the inevitable. At least there wasn't any screaming coming from inside. Soggy earth changed to wood slats beneath him. Halvar's ears were ringing and he wasn't sure if that had been from the beating or from the presence of magic around him.

The inner chamber of the longhouse had been made into a throne room for the witch. The tables and chairs that had once held entire clans in attendance had long been broken down into firewood and building materials. The dark oak floor had been etched with all matter of runes and symbols whose meanings were lost on Halvar. The symbols were carved around a straw figure that had been woven into the shape of a man. Except it's skull was canine, with long locks of braided human hair. Probably taken from the captives in the pens. It's eyeless gaze bored into Halvar. He felt it looking at him, through him.

The open hearth at the center of the room burned with a pale unearthly flame. As Halvar was dragged past, he noticed that the fire emanated no heat. Quite the opposite. It was cold, like the burning frost of the winter winds against his face. Everything about this place was wrong and every nerve left in Halvar's body was screaming for him to flee.

But how could he run when he couldn't even summon the will to stand? The men threw Halvar to the ground. The boy didn't even have the strength to brace himself against the fall and he hit the floor hard.

"On his knees," Svana purred from her throne. And the men complied, roughly hoisting Halvar up to face his witch-queen. With a casual flick of her hand the men stepped back and left the room. Halvar shivered. Part of him wished for their company, anything that was alive and had a beating heart beneath its ribs. Even with the men gone, the room felt crowded and heavy. There was something lingering in the air and pulsing throughout the length of the hall.

Before him was Svana's throne. A horrible construction from the bones of both humans and animals. Halvar could spot vertebrae, ribs, and the yellow-white skulls of wolves and bears. The antlers of a great stag curved upward like a kind of gruesome crown. Her long pin-straight hair was as white as the bones she sat upon. The White Wolf glared down at Halvar from her reclined position, dark eyes almost black in the low light.

"You bring shame upon us, boy," She said, rising from her throne. She was barefoot and wore a simple black dress. Halvar couldn't take his eyes from the staff. Tall, thin with a sickle-like blade at the top. He had begun to shake uncontrollably as she approached.

"Dishonor," She paused, narrowing her gaze, "Cowardice. These are killable offenses." She lowered the blade of her staff to his throat.

Halvar was breathing hard, terror running like an icy river in his veins. The metal was cold against his throat and he pressed his eyes shut. He prayed to his ancestors that his death would be swift.

"Yet, the men have told me you have information," Svana said, retracting the blade. Halvar opened his eyes, tears threatening his vision.

"Y-yes," he said, voice broken. "There was a tattooed man, a strong one, with skin like ash. He was with a woman. They had an enchanted axe." Halvar spoke between his heaving breaths.

Svana chuckled and shook her head. She was close now that Halvar could see that there was no white to the black of her eyes. Dark veins spread out across her pale skin like spider webs. Behind her gaze there was nothing but the cold and the dark staring back, endless and hungry.

Gods above, Halvar prayed. But this was a place beyond the power of the gods, beyond life itself. There was no one who would hear his prayers here.

"I don't want you to tell me, fool," she said, reaching out to Halvar. Her fingertips looked as if they'd been dipped in ink, the color fading in web-like veins sprawling up her forearm. The witch clasped her hands at either side of Halvar's skull. The boy was hyperventilating, body slack with paralyzing fear. Her nails were long and curved, more animal claws than human fingers. She held him tight in her grasp with a toothy grin spreading over her beautiful, terrifying face.

"I want you to show me." Then Svana began to squeeze, then harder, and harder.

Halvar's mouth hung open, pain lashed across his brain. She was going to crush his skull with her bare hands. Svana's head jerked back, releasing an ear-splitting animal cry. Howling. Claws dug into Halvar's scalp and he felt the warm trickle of blood down his neck. Gods help him, she was going to tear him apart. A scream ripped through Halvar's throat as the witch forced her way inside.

FAYE
BEFORE

Yrsa forced the Aesir captive up and roughly sat her down at one of the benches beside the hearth. The swelling in Salka's face had gone down some, leaving her skin splotchy with dark purple and black bruises. She trembled like a leaf caught in a summer storm.

"I hope for your sake that you are ready to talk." Yrsa sat and placed her war-hammer across her knees, fingers tapping the handle almost playfully. Salka's eyes flicked from the hammer to Faye. She stood beside Yrsa with her arms crossed tight over her chest. Faye nodded, urging Salka to continue. She seemed hesitant about her next words.

"I do not know the path myself, but there are those who still know the ancient crossroads between the realms," Salka said, looking down at her ruined hands.

"The drowned exiles," Salka said, "The daughters of Rán."

Frode rolled his eyes. He was leaned up against the wall beside Hana. His hand was resting on the hilt of his dagger as he watched Salka's back.

"They are from children's stories," he said.

"They may be just children's stories to your kind-," Salka croaked.

"Careful, Asgardian" Faye warned. Hana tipped her head, considering.

"History and myth have a way of entangling," she shrugged.

"Explain," Yrsa ordered the Aesir.

"When the AllFather returned from his quest for universal knowledge, a minor Aesir goddess became greedy for what he learned. She snuck into the Allfather's chambers and plundered his mind. For this crime she was cast into the sea," Salka said. Hana leapt off the wall, shaking her head.

"Greedy?" Hana spat. "That is a lie."

Yrsa raised a hand, her single grey eye narrowing on the Aesir. A threat promised in her gaze. Salka opened her mouth to explain but Hana spoke over her.

"Rán's husband, Ægir, was a Jotunn. Odin imprisoned him in the sea when he would not give up our secrets. Ran was only trying to free him from an unjust imprisonment," Hana said, anger dripping in her voice. Faye's interest perked at the mention of a Jotunn, while Yrsa's patience seemed to wane with their captive.

"It's possible, I-I mean our records are not as complete as us historians would prefer," Salka stammered.

"Wait wait wait," Frode waved his hands, "How does an Asgardian historian -"

"Archivist," Salka corrected.

"Archivist...get sent this miserable rock?" Frode asked.

Salka snapped her mouth shut.

"Good question," Yrsa agreed, raising a sharp brow.

"I was charged with searching for relics. The AllFather has a vast collection of artifacts and antiquities from across the realms," Salka said. The explanation sounded stiff and rehearsed but it would explain why the Aesir were in an abandoned dwarven mine of all places.

"What kind of relics?" Hana pressed.

"All kinds. The AllFather has a vast collection of artifacts and antiquities from across the realms," Salka repeated. Yrsa and Faye shared a knowing look.

"Hah!" Frode slapped his leg. "She's been bewitched. Ain't that just our luck." Yrsa pinched the bridge of her nose with a beleaguered sigh.

"I have? I have!" Salka said, as if only just realizing it.

"Is all this true?" Yrsa snapped.

"It's as much truth as we'll get from the Aesir," Faye sighed, "Their history is nothing but lies spun from Odin's lips anyway."

"There's more," Salka continued in earnest. "The AllFather discovered that Rán had been pregnant and so he cursed her. She gave birth to nine daughters in the bed of the sea and they took the twisted shape of water-creatures. But the AllFather did not anticipate that they would inherit Rán's stolen knowledge."

"How are you not bewitched from saying that, eh? Seems like information Odin would want to protect," Yrsa pointed out. Then she came to a sudden realization, that crooked grin spreading across her face. "Unless he doesn't know that you know. Sneaky little pig."

"The AllFather-" Salka paused, "Odin, hoards his knowledge but I have overheard a few things in the palace archives."

There was a pause as the Jotunns processed this information. Odin was on the hunt for relics, for what use Faye and the rest could only guess. It was important enough to him that he didn't even trust his own historians with their true purpose.

"There must be another way to find a path. These drowned exiles are evil creatures that drag seafarers to their deaths. This is too dangerous a route," Hana said.

"They are also half-Jotunn," Faye said to Yrsa. "We should try. For them."

"Did you not just hear? They've been corrupted by cursed magic from Odin himself," Frode said. "Jotunn or not, they're still monsters."

"We don't exactly have the luxury of options," Yrsa said. Faye turned to Hana.

"Well, poet? What do your myths and legends say about these daughters of Rán?" Faye asked.

"Like Frode said: they're just stories," Hana said. "I don't think it's wise to chase after legends."

"We're well past our wisest options. You said yourself that history and myth intersected. Maybe there is a grain of truth to your stories," Faye pressed. Even if there was only a tiny sliver of the truth to the Aesir's words, they could use these daughters for more than a path into Asgard. They could have intel on all manner of things in the realm, including how Odin managed to corrupt the spirit of a Valkyrie into physical form.

"Maybe they existed at some point but this is as reckless as Yrsa chasing after her rumors-" Frode said.

"That's enough!" Faye growled. It was one thing to have inward doubts, but to openly question Yrsa's authority was getting dangerously close to insubordination.

"Let him speak, Laufey," Yrsa said with a false smile, "I want to hear this."

"Respectfully," Frode said, "We've already had our share of tailing false leads. We should find another way into Asgard."

"We don't know how long that could take," Faye argued. "By the time we find another way all the paths to Asgard could be closed. This is our only chance."

"I'm sorry, Laufey," Frode said, "But I'm with Hana on this." And then they looked at each other, Frode's Vanaheim-green gaze rolling over Hana's face. There was a quiver of a smile on her lips, a rosy blush to her cheek.

It was that brief look that made Faye's blood pulse white-hot. She knew exactly where this hesitation was coming from. Hana and Frode had a future to protect. It was evident from what Yrsa said and what Faye had seen with her own eyes. They were making decisions out of fear and selfishness.

"When you agreed to this mission you knew the risks," Faye reminded Hana and Frode.

"Don't mistake our caution for cowardice," Hana said, tone turning sharp.

"Then don't let your roll in the hay cloud your judgement. We are here for one reason and one reason only," Faye said. Hana looked as if she was shot by one of her arrows.

Yrsa tensed beside Faye, and it was as if the air shifted between the four of them. Faye instantly felt a stab of regret and knew she'd gone too far with her friends. She shouldn't have weaponized their relationship against them. But it was the words they needed to hear. Words they all needed to hear.

"How dare you," Hana whispered.

"How dare I?" Faye snapped. "When the council sent us on this mission, it was not done so on the conditions that we would give up once the road became treacherous," Faye's voice rose to a heated pitch, even Frode flinched.

"No one is saying we should give up," Frode said.

"But you would rather we sit on this information until it is too late! How is that not the same?"

"And what use will your precious mission be if we are all dead?" Frode shot back.

"Tens of thousands of Jotunns have given the ultimate sacrifice and gods be damned if I won't repay their sacrifice in kind!"

I, Faye had said. Not 'we'.

She couldn't stop the words before they tumbled out. It didn't matter if their lives were sacrificed in the process. It was the price Faye was willing to make to get Tyr back. And when the same realization hit her friends, Faye had the feeling of a tether snapping between the four of them. And for once, Frode said nothing.

Hana said nothing. The once soft, sweet poet brushed past Faye, knocking against her shoulder hard. The contact sent a reverberating shock through Faye. She dug her teeth into the inside of her cheek, wishing she could have just held her tongue. Hana strode past and left the long house. Frode was frozen for a moment, unsure whether he should follow Hana or not.

"Just go," Faye ordered, "Come back when you're ready to move out or don't come back at all."

He looked between Yrsa and Faye, waiting for Yrsa to speak up against Faye.

Say something that will fix what I've done, Faye thought. Tell me I'm wrong.

Frode trudged past Faye, pausing at her shoulder. He sucked in a breath. Faye could imagine the number of vile things he could say. Instead he spoke low and quiet so only she would hear.

"Not all of us have so little to lose that we can afford to throw everything away," He said. The words stung. It would have been better if he had hurled one of his many colorful insults but he knew better.

"You forget yourself, soldier," Faye ground out. "Get your priorities straight."

Frode shook his head with a humorless laugh and followed after Hana. The loud crack of the doors shutting made Faye wince. It was true. Faye had so brilliantly designed her life with nothing worth losing. Her duty was to her people and nothing and no one else. Of course there were many things she wanted to do, wanted to say. But she could not allow herself the small compromises, she knew herself too well. If she could she would hide in those comforts as she did in the embrace of Yrsa's arms. Gods, she wanted to stay there forever. But Faye needed to find Tyr more than she needed to breathe air. She couldn't afford to become clouded.

Yrsa cast Faye a long look from the bench. She had been uncharacteristically quiet through all of that but Faye could see that there was something brewing behind her one-eyed glare.

"What?" Faye snarled from clenched teeth. Say something. They could just be words, they didn't have to be real. But it was like Yrsa had said - it didn't matter what any of them wanted. Just another lost moment to go unspoken between them because all that mattered was the mission. Everything else was a liability.

Yrsa turned to Salka, who had very wisely stayed silent the whole time.

"Where would we find these daughters?" Yrsa asked, her usual poise subdued. Salka was fidgeting with her hands, gliding the back of her hand against her palm.

"Odin kept this information hidden for this exact reason," she explained.

"But you know," Yrsa said, "And you're going to tell me."

Salka was looking to Faye nervously now, clearly worried about her expiration date.

"I can't," she said.

"Oh?" Yrsa leaned forward, amused.

"You'll just kill me if I do," Salka said.

"Tell me anyway," Yrsa said, "Or I find other ways to make you talk, bewitching or not."

"Can you lead the way?" Faye asked. Yrsa shot Faye a flinty glare. Faye didn't want to compromise their only source of valuable information. Not to mention that torture would take hours and they did not have the time to spare.

"Only if you promise not to kill me," Salka said.

"Laufey," Yrsa growled, not intending to make promises she wouldn't keep. "She could lead us into another trap."

"I don't think you would," Faye leaned down so she was eye to eye with Salka. "Odin would kill for this knowledge, yes?"

Salka nodded bitterly.

"Seems we have a common foe then. If you are true to your word I'll consider diplomatic immunity for you in Jotunheim." Faye said and glanced back at Yrsa. "Satisfied?"

"Hm," Yrsa grunted. She stood and leveled her hammer at Salka's forehead. The Asgardian flinched and craned away from the weapon.

"But if you lie to me, to any of us, I'll cut an eagle into your spine and leave you for the crows to feast upon. That is my promise," Yrsa said.

"I understand," Salka whimpered.

"Good." Yrsa smirked. "Mark her, Laufey."

Yrsa stalked over to their supplies and traded her hammer for Hana's bow then prepared a hunting pack. Faye watched her as she went, a distant ache in her arms.

"M-mark me?"

"Relax," Faye said as she prepared the concealment spell with a bowl of melted snow. She traced out the runes on Salka's bruised neck.

"Leyna," Faye whispered and silvery tendrils magic sparkled across Salka's pale skin.

"You did well, Salka," Faye said.

"I did?"

"Don't disappoint me." Faye gave a softened smile, as if she was praising a child. She led the Aesir back to her timber beam, and secured her there with a small portion of food and water. She hoped that by encouraging Salka and acting sympathetic would cause her to be more compliant in the future.

"Thank you," Salka whispered and sipped from the cup that Faye offered.

"Our little secret," Faye said as she fed the Aesir. In reality, they would need Salka alive and well for the duration of their journey. As soon as she turned away from the captive, her features hardened again. She called the Leviathan to her and left to join Yrsa on her hunt.

It was growing dark when Faye had tracked down Yrsa. She was hunched over the corpse of an elk, preparing to clean it. It had been a much messier kill than Hana's. The arrow had missed the heart and instead struck the lungs. Snow crunched beneath Faye's steps as she approached. The elk would have suffered if Yrsa had not slit its throat. Still, the fear and stress of the kill will have infected the meat. Turning it sour.

"You're angry with me," Yrsa said as she peeled the skin from the elk's haunches.

"You knew about them the whole time and said nothing," Faye said watching Yrsa slice through the sinew and tendons to get at the tender meat.

"And?" Yrsa grunted. She swiped the back of her hand across her face, smearing a bit of blood across her cheek.

"Companions are one thing, but that," Faye paused, "That was dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Yrsa laughed, flashing that crooked grin. "Laufey." She stood and wiped her palms against her bear-hide cloak.

"You know what I mean. Hana and Frode would sooner have protected each other than either of us. I don't know why you're not more upset," Faye said, crossing her arms. Yrsa shrugged.

"Can you blame them? It was harmless," she paused, "A 'role in the hay', as you put it."

Faye winced at the resentment in Yrsa's tone.

"It was selfish," Faye spat, "We all want comfort. We all want distraction. But they allowed their judgement to be clouded."

"Distraction," Yrsa repeated, jaw clenched. "That's all you think it was?"

Faye stepped closer, licked her thumb and smudged the blood from Yrsa's cheek. Yrsa's storm-grey eye flicked from Faye's hand to her lips. Faye registered the bob of Yrsa's throat and her own breath went uneven. Faye imaged what it'd be like to pull Yrsa down and kiss her. To press her lips against Yrsa's soft mouth in a hungry, urgent kiss. Hands tangled in her chestnut braids and yanking her down, closer. Smothered in her sharp, juniper scent. Yrsa's lips would part with a soft gasp, surprised, and Faye would slip her tongue inside to taste her. Yrsa would murmur her name in a coarse purr.

Laufey.

Faye shivered, snapping back to herself. She couldn't think like that. It'd make her a hypocrite. All that mattered was the mission. Nothing else.

"That's all it can be," Faye whispered. "We can't afford it to be anything else. You know that."

Yrsa brushed Faye's hand away and that ache in Faye's chest deepened. They both knew simple distraction wouldn't suffice for what they wanted. It would always be more. And Faye wanted to, gods, she wanted to so badly. Yrsa rubbed her hand over her mouth, running her thumb across her lips. As if to rub away the temptation.

Just the mission. Nothing else.

"Help me with this," Yrsa said, squatting down to pack their catch. And Faye did, saying nothing more and focusing on the task. This would pass just all the other lost moments to haunt the space between them.

It was dark when they returned to the longhouse. Hana and Frode had returned and were now sitting as far away as physically possible across the hearth. Their eyes were looking anywhere but at each other.

"We leave at dawn. The Asgardian will guide us to the exiles," Yrsa said. She hefted down their catch and sat between the two, occupying the aching space. Faye stood off to the side, leaning against the wall.

"If the stories hold true, the daughters of Rán can be summoned from the sea. I know the ritual," Salka said, then considered. "In theory," she added.

"We are a months' travel from the sea," Yrsa said. "Are there no other places they can be summoned?"

"There is another way," Salka chewed on her lip. "The Undir, the ocean beneath the word. It is a labyrinth of Odin's design and the place of their birth."

"And you know the way?"

Salka nodded.

"But we must be very careful. It was designed to be easy to enter but very difficult to escape."

"Once again, Asgardian, your information is lacking," Hana spoke with her gaze firmly fixed on the flames, more demure than usual. "The price for hidden knowledge requires equal exchange."

"There are no more secrets between us," Frode said, eyes flashing to Faye. Faye tore her gaze away and fixated herself on the flames. She had nothing more to add, all of her words already spent. The Jotunns looked to Salka like vultures waiting to pick at a fresh corpse.

"I've already told you everything I know. I have no more hidden knowledge," she said.

"None that isn't bewitched, that is," Hana said grimly. The shock hit Salka again.

"That's right," she spoke softly to herself, but the realization was fleeting. Yrsa waived them off.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Yrsa said. "The plan remains the same. We find the path to Asgard, use the bifrost, and enter disguised. We find Tyr. We come home."

As if it was that easy.

"You're forgetting the part where we slip past the Mistress of Battle herself," Frode said, "Or is that another bridge to cross?"

Yrsa swallowed hard. No matter how they squared it, the journey would be rough. It too, would have its price and the weight of that hung over Faye. If only the elders had given them insight into their journey when the mission was assigned. But the current seer of Jotunheim, Rúnar, had not had visions in the years since the Desolation. The wane of his gift signified the candidacy for a new recipient of the foresight. Until another was chosen, they were all as blind to the future as anyone else.

"Rest, friends," Yrsa said. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

That night they all slept on separate pallets. Frode and Hana with a wide gulf of space between them, backs facing each other. Yrsa was closest to the front door, while Faye settled near Salka.

She sat leaned against the wall with her knees to her chest as she fiddled idly with Frode's little carving of the bear-man, Bjorn. Their sacrifices would be worth it in the end with Tyr in tow. He would help return balance to the realms. And once peace had been restored, maybe then she and Yrsa would have the time they always wanted for each other.

"I don't know if this is worth anything, but I never agreed with the hostility against the Jotunnar," Salka whispered to Faye. Faye placed the bear-man down beside the Asgardian.

"You're right, it means nothing," Faye said, "Prove to me with your actions."

When Faye did finally slip into a restless sleep, that other feeling was waiting for her. Except this time, Faye was drowning in that endless abyss of the void. It was dragging her down, down, down. No matter how hard she swam, there was no surface she could break. Her lungs burned for air. The darkness wanted in.

Let me in. It became too much to bear and Faye opened her mouth in a desperate gasp for air. The cold, black water rushed in. Through her nose, down her throat, choking out her screams. The more she struggled, the more it invaded her lungs. Then the void was inside her, taking root.

Surrender, it seemed to say from the depths, twisting and writhing with glee. You're mine now.

The dream shifted.

Faye was chased by a wolf, larger than any she'd ever seen. Its fur was a deep russet and its eyes like cool crystalline waters. Faye burst past a tree-line running in a field of tall waving grass. Legs pumped beneath her, breath rapid and panting. Her heart was going to gallop right out of her chest. Claws dug into her legs and tore the flesh of her calves to bloody ribbons. Faye stumbled with a scream tearing past her lips. She hit the earth hard and the air leapt from her lungs. Wheezing, she rolled to her back as the wolf stalked closer. Lips pulled back in a feral snarl revealing long white fangs ready to tear into her flesh. Faye propped herself on her elbows and tried to inch away but her legs were useless.

The wolf padded over her, long red tongue lashing its maw. It opened its jaws wide. Hot breath washed across Faye's face. She couldn't look away. Then came gagging, choking sound. There was something in its throat. The wolf hacked and wretched. A pale pink thing was rising up from the back of its throat.

It was a hand. Thin and child-sized. Across its wrist and reaching up the forearm were blue-black runic tattoos. The wolf's crystal blue eyes rolled back as the hand stretched out further toward Faye. Faye couldn't turn away, couldn't move. Panic rushed in her veins, paralyzing her.

Fingers brushed her forehead.

"Mi...tér...a," came a warped, inhuman voice. It repeated the word again and again, but it was a language Faye didn't recognize.

Mitéra.

FAYE

NOW

The first days of their journey went without any disturbances. Which Faye found odd since they ought to have least crossed a hungry bear or some territorial wolves by now. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the clan made camp along the river. They were little more than a day's trek to the timberline skirting around the base of the mountain. Then they would ascend the narrow, winding path. Faye stood at a rocky outcrop that overlooked the trail forward. The viridian forest rippled into lush rolling hills, leading up to gentle slopes at first. Then sudden, jutting ice-capped peaks.

Farbauti had made it a habit of disappearing at dusk to patrol the camp's perimeter every night. Faye slept light on her pallet, ears trained on the forest around her. She waited for those heavy footsteps to alert her of his return but they never came. Sometimes she would hear the distant creak of timber, the shrieking snap and fall of a tree ripped from its roots. At dawn he would return as the clan mobilized once more, sometimes with a deer or goat he managed to hunt down. But for the most part, it was empty hands, tired golden eyes, and freshly wounded knuckles to bandage.

As the clan settled into their tents for the night, Faye found Kratos crouched at the mossy riverside. Faye lowered to her knees and sat back on her heels beside him. Eyes faded shut as she listened. The soft drone of rushing water against the lichen covered rocks was soothing. There was a gentle trickle as Kratos scooped handfuls of water over his bleeding knuckles. It was enough to dampen the cacophony of memories that came rushing back to Faye. For a few moments her mind was blessedly quiet and she wondered if he found some respite here as she did.

"You should rest tonight. I'll take first watch," she said and peeked one eye open to glance at him. "Or do gods not need their sleep?"

"What use are you if you cannot defend against a threat?" He plunged both hands into the river with a pained expression. Red seeped from his pale skin into the rushing water.

"About as much use as you will be if you do not maintain your strength," she said.

"Hm," he grunted. He withdrew his hands from the river and sat back on his heels. They watched the forest from across the river as the sky bled orange with the fast approaching nightfall. Shadows grew and that stillness lingered between the trees.

"It is too quiet," he said. Faye nodded, eyes on the growing darkness.

"I feel it too."

As soldiers they learned to be wary of the quiet. It felt like the calm before the story, air heavy with kinetic energy. She wished her gift would offer her some insight into the path forward but her visions were consumed with the child. She didn't get to decide how and when the future would reveal itself to her.

"I wanted to apologize to you," Faye said. She picked up a small river rock and swirled her thumb over its surface, washed smooth with time. She had never been very good at apologies. She didn't want to simply be sorry, she just needed to be better. She needed to hold her vicious tongue and reign in her emotions. And she held Farbauti at too high of a standard that she herself fell short of time and time again. She was a fool to think she was worthy enough to judge him.

"I've been unfair to you and I'm sorry," she said, the words clumsy on her lips.

"There is no need for that," Kratos said. He shifted and occupied his hands with re-wrapping his hands and forearms. He seemed as uncomfortable with the apology as Faye was so she left it at that. Faye looked back at the river and she was struck with the memory of black water pouring into her screaming mouth. Faye shuddered and squeezed the rock in her hand, letting its weight anchor her to the spot. She was here, not back there in the mire of her memories.

She was here and they were gone.

"You were a soldier too," Kratos said. Faye looked at him, brow drawn together. It wasn't a question. Although, it was only fair of him to assume that given what she'd told him of her past. He nodded to the worn leather armor.

"You've been distracted since I returned it to you." He tightened his bindings and looked back out at the river. "Are you fit to keep watch?"

"Besides my broken ribs?"

"You mistake my meaning," he said and regarded her for a moment as he searched for the words. "There are wounds beyond the body."

Faye understood. As a general he had probably seen all manner of battle injury, and even those that lingered long after the bloodshed was over. The mind could be broken as well as the body and no one escaped war unscathed. She was sure Kratos had his own inner wounds that went unseen and it made her think of what his life had been like before he became a god. Faye swallowed over the hard lump in her throat.

"I'll be fine," she said. It wasn't easy for her to admit that he was right. Every memory was a fresh lash against her heart, another reminder of her failings. But still, she could not bring herself to remember what happened after. There was that blank echoing space in her mind where her memories should be. Had she done that to soothe her grief? It was so much easier to forget than to feel.

She wondered how Kratos coped with the death of his wife and child. No matter god nor man, that was a wound that never healed. It was unnatural for a parent to outlive their child. There was nothing in the universe that could fix that kind of pain. She tossed her rock into the water and watched it sink into the depths.

"Why did you come to these lands, Kratos?" she asked. Her voice was almost lost in the rush of water but he had heard her. Maybe he came to forget or to find catharsis. Or simply outrun the past. She was still unsure of how much she could really trust the god. But he hadn't given her a reason to believe that he had ulterior motives, or grand schemes to join Odin or lead his armies in Valhalla.

"I do not know," he answered, voice thick. He sounded so incredibly lost.

"And where will you go after this is over?"

It was the first time she'd really considered what kind of path was ahead of him once she returned his blades to him. She wondered what kind if answers Hrothga would have for his god-made curse. There was the distant hope that she'd be able to break his curse.

"As far away from you as possible," he said. He could be so dry and monotone that she wasn't sure if it was a joke or not. But it had made her laugh and she had not had a good laugh in a while. The tension eased in her chest and for just a moment the ache was gone.

"Good. I think that is best," she chuckled. The further the better.

He watched her laugh like a man seeing the first sunrise after a hurricane. The look stirred up the memory of his heated gaze roving over her skin in the bathhouse. Faye thought it simply harsh scrutiny but maybe she had misjudged that as well. Now she recognized that kind of look for what it was. Faye's mouth went dry and she became intensely aware of her increased heart rate. He looked at her as if he was imagining all the ways his hands would explore Faye's body if only given the chance.

"Right," Faye cleared her throat and stood, rubbing a hand across her mouth. "Get some rest then I'll wake you for the second watch."

Faye hadn't ventured outside of the protective boundaries of her forest in many years and so much had changed. The trees had gone quiet, their whispers muted with fear. Not even the birds sang and Faye had the lingering sensation that she was being watched as she patrolled the camp. It was a prickle at the back of her neck, a heavy presence seeping in all around her. The earth itself felt wrong and alien beneath her feet. Faye knew what this was. It was the way life shrank away in the presence of a greater predator.