(SIGYN)

I cried over him, shaking his shoulder as forcefully as I would dare. "Don't die on me now. Wake up!"

Loki went limp. Covered in little more than scraps from my black robe and what was left of his torn trousers, his pale skin was clammy and nearly transparent, shining back an eerie shade of blue. Before long, the bright sun above us would move around the tree and surely burn him. He breathed, but it was little more than a wheeze every time he inhaled.

My tears did him no good. I draped his green cape over him, trying to keep him warm and protected, though I worried it would become little more than a grave shroud if I didn't find some way to increase his strength.

"Hello?" I yelled in all directions, hoping anyone who heard me would be easy to persuade. "I swear we mean no harm. If you're out there, help, please!"

Nothing. Only faint birdsongs filled the air. I couldn't even be certain if all Vanir spoke the same language—what then?

I could hardly comprehend the whirlwind of time itself. It had only been three days since I found Loki in the bell tower after my fight with Theo, and we spent the night in private paradise. It felt like weeks or months away from where we were now, stranded in a realm I'd never been.

Loki couldn't help himself, so I had no choice but to stand and search for anything that might be useful. The chasm from whence we arrived remained hidden for the most part, but I built up the smaller boulders I'd knocked down before so no one with curious eyes would go through it. Above the entrance were faded runes which spelled harm in the old language, so while I was sure most would stay away, it didn't hurt to offer more protection. Oddly, the cave opened at the base of a monolith that wasn't any larger than my former servants' quarters, so how it connected to Asgard at all didn't make much sense to me. The forest was filled with other giant stones equidistant from one another—surely the area was ripe with such portals. While it didn't surprise me that Loki was powerful and knowledgeable enough to bring us here, the very prospect of such powerful magic frightened me. Couldn't see it, hear it, or smell it, and one wrong step might mean I'd be unable to return.

And my life used to be so simple.

What was I searching for, really? People? Animals? Sustenance? I'd scooped water in my hands to wash Loki's face on the cliffside, trying to remove as much residue from the serpent's venom as I could without touching it. Surely that was why he could be roused at all. But Father warned me about wild dangers—things like poisoned springs and creatures waiting for their next victim—so I kept my hands against my chest while I walked.

Only a single thought powered me through: This is Frigga's home. Think like her to survive.

The trees seemed without end in all directions, including above me, where the forest became ever thicker and darker the deeper I dared venture. I was wise enough to leave a trail of stones on my way so I could find Loki again.

As I went deeper, flowers gripped the tree trunks in tangles of roots, though not enough to strangle the life already present. Their blooms astounded me. Some at my feet were no larger than a thimble, red with yellow throats that invited a sniff—yet even from a distance, their distinct hot spice hit my nose and forced me to sneeze. Most everything in the forest did, actually; I certainly couldn't keep my presence secret from anything with ears.

The plants drew me forward in colors I'd never seen, and soon small insects flew before my face as well. They hummed in tandem with the birds, which hopped along the forest floor with me. My soft shoes were nearly worn through and little more than a membrane that muted any sharp grit in my path, so focusing on the funny-looking creatures was a welcome distraction. The birds, no larger than my hand, had bright blue crests atop their heads beaks that hugged their faces like small owls. Some were iridescent and shimmering like the flowers, while others were muted and smaller, though they all shared the crest in varying heights. They chirped a singular, repetitive tune that I sang along to as well. It felt like the sort of thing Mother would do.

When the flowers exploded in size, some at least the diameter of a dinner plate, I stopped and closed my eyes to listen for any other changes. Nothing I'd come across yet appeared edible—at least, nothing beyond the gruesome thought of sacrificing the too-easy-to-capture birds. If the planet offered something else, I'd have to pray I wouldn't be misled into giving Loki and I both a painful end.

I listened past the same birdsong. Clicking insects. Wind through the trees. Then—something else. My heart jumped in a rush that flooded my ears. It was the faint but unmistakable trickle of salvation.

Water. Frigga, let it be clean.

I picked up my pace to find it, following the largest plants and softening ground to the source. The flowers sang around me, opening up to a small clearing and a creek cutting through the grove. Its waters were perfectly clear, enough to see a school of small, white fish along the opposite bank.

If I hadn't known for certain that this wasn't Asgard, I might've thought I found a hidden treasure in the mountains. Nothing about the creek felt ominous, because everything in sight fed from it. A large vine snaking along the ground at my side was another gift—its egg-shaped pink berries were enticing, all the more so by the half-eaten ones strewn around my feet.

If an animal could eat them, so could I. It was worth the risk.

Without hesitation and perhaps a bit foolishly, I plucked one of the berries and took a wide bite. There was a large seed in the center, but the fruit was soft, overripe, and grainy. The flavor reminded me of my youth, eating the scraps left behind for the servants before produce would spoil. Mother made pies from the most foregone items, transforming them into something the noble folk would never think of.

I followed my bite with a handful of water—cool and flavorless, as it should be. It refreshed and relieved me, washing away the nag in my heart that we couldn't survive. The spring was a fair distance from where I left Loki, but thanks to my stone trail, I could find my way back if I had to. If I were alone and left to fend for myself, I could make friends with the flowers as I did the kitchen cutlery.

Once I'd had my fill, I fashioned a small sack of vines for the berries and draped it over myself and used another giant leaf for a canteen of water. It didn't hold as much as I would've liked, but it was the only option. My many years of hobby-making clothes and other crafts hadn't gone to waste. I backtracked through the forest to the man under the tree, all the while prayerful that he hadn't passed in my absence.

Loki remained precisely where I left him, though now he shivered while sweat poured off his body. He clutched his cape for protection despite his delirium. His face was still largely covered by the blindfold I made from my skirt—no matter how much I longed to see him, I knew better than to look because he asked me not to. I couldn't meet his demand under the serpent to end his life, but I could respect his wishes now.

I sat behind him, propping his head in my lap gently. He twitched and groaned, but wasn't awake. His mind was far from Vanaheim. Unable to respond to me properly, I had no choice but to pull his jaw down to open his mouth and pour water in. He sputtered at first, spitting most of it back out and over his neck, finally swallowing a few gulps before the canteen ran empty. The fruit was soft enough for me to crush and drip onto his tongue.

In the fading sunlight, I rested my back against the tree, curious and apprehensive about what dangers night could bring. The purple sky deepened, and three moons crested over the horizon.

Loki wept in his sleep. I prayed when morning came again that he would wake, if not to find help, to at least escape his nightmares.