Faye ran through the taiga, Jophie swaying and bobbing on her shoulder. As she ran, the felt the sensation of something fluttering at the edge of her vision, something that always disappeared once she turned her head. Nerves, probably. She followed a tributary of the river upland into a dense, dark rolling patch of forest, then slowed to a walk to penetrate the heart of the forest. She slogged through patches of frozen mud, one hand shielding her face from the glare of the sun, the other hand holding out an inscribed bear tooth pulsing with violet light.
Run as fast as you can for two hours, and then wander around like a beggar with an alms bowl, Faye thought, scanning the trees for an echoing pulse of violet light from the border of Freya's territory. The boundary of where their forests intersected has a tendency to wander around Faye's own forest, never appearing in the same place twice. Faye's forests and Freya's forest did not lie adjacent to each other in normal space thanks to the nature of dueling protection spells, but they did share multiple points of intersection. The intersection Faye sought was a greeting alcove the two women had used to exchange odd favors over the last nine years.
After about an hour of slow searching, during which she also convinced Jophie to help her, Faye found the echoing flash of violet light replying to her inscribed bear tooth. She followed the boundary of the flashing light until she found a fist-sized hole in the boundary.
Faye eased into the void, the alcove joining their territories, and pressing her senses and willing the image of the other forest to come to her mind. Jophie screeched and beat her wings, tugging hard at the tresses looped around Faye's wrist. After a moment of overlaid sights and sounds, they slipped fully into the alcove. Inside the alcove was a patch of forest lit in permanent moonlight, the edges abruptly ending in darkness. Faye carried Jophie to the opposite side, where a twin passageway opened into the other forest. She waited for the falcon to calm down, stroking her head as soon as she could do so without losing any fingers.
"I need to talk to Freya. Your sister is now one of her servants, along with a few other falcons. Signal them. Get their attention. Get them to bring Freya here. She will appear as a red hawk."
I will not go! You go instead, Jophie protested.
"I cannot pass through the portal," Faye said, unclipping the jess from her wrist. "Last time I tried was rather…painful. Freya built some defense against me entering this way. I think she is worried I might spy on her. Which, to be fair…. I am spying on her."
Faye had spent years testing the boundaries and protection spells of the other woman's territory, and knew at least four additional ways to slip in undetected. Sneaking up on Freya would not be a particularly good way to ask her for help, though. Using Jophie as a messenger had some downsides, but it was the path least likely to spook the only woman who might be able to give Faye some answers.
Jophie gave her one last glare of disdain, but flew from her arm and into the portal. There was no telling how long it would take to summon the goddess.
Tucked in the safety of the alcove, there was nothing else to do but wait, and test the reach of her abilities. Faye hummed a focusing song, and conjured the image of the Aurora Silkwing moth's eyes flashing with gold light. Faye fixated on the image, willing her senses to slip out of the alcove and into the body of the moth. It was easier than she had expected. The view of the forest faded from her senses as a hazy dream, and the view of her cabin materialized as Faye pushed her mind into the moth, using its senses to see, smell, and hear what was happening back at her home.
The moth clung from the rafters of the ceiling, resting on one of the lower hanging frames. From its eyes, Faye looked downward at the hearth and dining area below. Atreus lay in a pile of blankets and furs in the middle of the floor by the hearth, while Kratos sat cross-legged nearby. Both were still as statues. After several minutes, Kratos lifted the boy's head and pushed a cup to his mouth.
"Drink, boy."
Kratos tipped the water into his mouth, but Atreus coughed and choked, inhaling half of the water into his lungs and spitting the rest out. Kratos growled. He tried again, slower, but yielded a similar result. He crossed over to the entryway and pushed the front door open, letting in a burst of cold air. He leaned out of the threshold, staring into the forest, his fingers drumming against the doorframe.
A cold wind blew in. The moth startled and took flight, retreating back into a dark corner of the ceiling rafter. Faye's senses were swallowed up by silence and darkness as the moth buried itself in a sheltered knot of the wood.
Faye groaned inwardly. If she could see and hear through the moth, it might be possible for her to exert some control over it was well. I have lived beneath the eye of Odin for centuries. I have crossed wits with gods, the corrupted souls of Jotnar, and a precocious eight year old Demi-god. I can match the wits of a moth. She focused hard, urging the moth to flee from its hiding space.
The moth did not budge.
Faye spent the next hour trying to wrestle control from the moth as it huddled in the rafters. In the end, the dumb beast emerged from hiding on its own and settled back on the lower rafters, giving the same view of the hearth.
Cold air permeated the cabin, billowing in from the open doors. Atreus still lay beside the hearth, although he was a little bit closer to the flames and was covered in a larger pile of blankets to offset the cold. From outside, Faye heard the rhythmic sound of Kratos splitting firewood. Most likely, the door was open so he could have line of sight to Atreus while he worked in the yard.
Kratos walked back into the cabin through the opened door and knelt again by Atreus. He raised their son's head again, and tipped a cup of water to his mouth. Atreus was noticeably weaker than he had been in the morning, his lips cracked and his skin sallow. Not the onset of the unholy fever he had last night, but a simple consequence of being fragile and very dehydrated.
"Drink," Kratos ordered again, pouring a small sip of water into his mouth. Atreus struggled and choked.
Kratos snarled and slammed the cup down onto the floor, hard enough that the vibrations pulsed through the rafters. He eased Atreus back to the blankets, took a moment to cover him back up, then stalked out of the cabin. The sound of splitting wood resumed from outside.
Go look outside, idiot moth, Faye pleaded. Shockingly the moth obeyed, landing on the corner of the doorframe and peering outside.
Splintered firewood was piled in heaps around the yard. There were hundreds of logs, possibly thousands, all from within the last few hours, all cut fresh. There were three full cords at least, although it was hard to tell from how they were scattered.
Kratos crossed back and forth across the yard, disappearing intermittently among the piles. Instead of stacking the wood into organized cords, he circled listlessly between stacking wood from different piles hauling in more timber, and splitting new logs. It was far more firewood than they needed for the spring, and probably more than they needed to get to the next winter solstice. The scene contrasted sharply with the methodical way he normally worked.
The moth rested in the doorframe, allowing Faye to watch several more iterations of Kratos trying, and failing, to have Atreus drink as the afternoon wore on. Each time Kratos returned outside and continued burying their yard in piles of chopped timber.
He is afraid, Faye thought. He looks how I feel. At least she had the distraction of trying to mentally overpower a magical insect to keep herself occupied. She did not envy his task of waiting, of watching their son grow weak again, without any way of stopping it. Her husband was used to facing things he could fight, or force his way through with strength. What was he going to do now, facing a problem that pure strength could not solve?
Atreus cried softly from within the cabin. Faye seized enough control over the moth to fly towards him and settle up on the rafters. Kratos strode through the door moments later, his utility axe in one hand and a water-soaked rag in the other. He let the axe clatter to the ground, and sat on the ground next to Atreus, who tossed and moaned beneath the blankets. Kratos took the boy into his arms and cradled him across his lap, bringing his head to rest in the crook of his arm.
"Atreus? I am here," he said, cupping the boy's face with his palm. "I am here."
Kratos took the cloth and began to wash their son's face with it, his hands brisk but gentle. He paused for a moment, thinking of something, and slipped the corner of the rag into the boy's mouth. Kratos held very still, almost frozen except for his hand bunching the rag up into a ball in his fist. For a while nothing seemed to happen, and then he squeezed his fist again, a few drops of water wringing out of the cloth.
I should have thought of that, Faye thought wryly.
It seemed impossibly slow, like it would never work, but Faye could tell it was working. When the rag was dry, Kratos recharged it from a basin resting on the floor, and repeated the ritual of letting Atreus drink from it a few drops at a time. He charged it a second time, and then a third. Kratos would patient and focused, every movement slow and deliberate. She watched, moved beyond words, as her husband began the painstaking task of reviving their son with a few drops of water a time. This is not the first time he has cared for a sick child, Faye thought, misty-eyed as she watched. This is safe territory.
Atreus stirred, eyes cracking open.
"Father?"
"Drink," Kratos ordered, raising him higher and setting the cup to his mouth.
Atreus drank, slowly at first, then greedily drained the cup, inverting the cup over his open mouth. Kratos refilled it from the basin,, and withheld it as Atreus reached for it.
"Slowly,' Kratos growled.
Atreus obeyed, draining the cup, then slumped against Kratos in exhaustion. For a few long seconds his head rested against his father's chest as he caught his breath again.
"I must say, that really is touching," Hyndla commented, leaning in over Faye's shoulder and grasping the back of her neck with an iron grip.
Faye snapped back to the alcove, the view of her cabin, husband, and son dissolving and yielding to the endless moonlight of the alcove connecting her forest with Freya's. A wave of nausea and ice sweat rolled over her as she looked up and saw Hyndla, Faye's long-dead mentor, her enemy, the spokesperson for all the corrupted Jotnar keening for her soul, sitting in the alcove with her. Hyndla's robes fanned out among the pine leaves as she sat cross-legged on the ground.
"What do you want, Hyndla?" Faye asked with forced irritation, struggling to control and suppress the tremor and rising panic in her voice. How can she be here? What is she doing to me? Can the Souls of the Slain seek me wherever I am, now?
"Are you here to show me more horrific visions of my husband destroying the Nine Realms again?" Faye asked, stuffing sarcasm and acrid words into the yawning hole of fear eating away at her gut. "I know you do not have anything better to do."
"No, I am not. That is not fun anymore," Hyndla said, pouting. "I have to admit it Faye: I was wrong, and you were right. Ten thousand prophecies saw Kratos as a danger and a threat, and you stubbornly held on to the single one that said otherwise. Somehow, here you are. Something about this moment, right here, has set a path and completely upheaved all of our predictions of violence and bloodshed and destruction and blah-blah-blah we saw for your husband. Very well done." Hyndla clapped politely.
Faye studied her carefully, trying to identify the next trap, trying to understand why the Souls of the Slain were suddenly manifesting around her.
"So, you are making house visits, now?"
"Oh dear Faye, please. I've been in the periphery of your vision ever since you agreed to bring Loki to us last night."
"I agreed, and then I did nothing," Faye said, her heart fluttering into her throat.
"Yes, yes, you denied us access to Loki's soul. Apparently, that is working out for the best," Hyndla admitted. "But you did unlock new door inside your own soul to us, so…"she winked and feigned a motion of pulling a door open. "While you were busy playing with that moth, I figured out how to manifest in your vision."
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
"Very impressive," Faye said coldly, giving Hyndla a polite round of applause. "What are you going to try to force me to do now?"
"Force? No, no, I've learned my lesson, your way often works out for the best. I'm not here to force you, I'm here to watch you and offer advice. Like I used to do. Just pretend like I'm not even here." She flashed a row of perfect teeth, her expression more like a pain grimace than smile. "Besides, you have company incoming, I think."
Hyndla abruptly disappeared.
The portal on Freya's side of the alcove flickered with violet light and black shadows. There was a rush of air and wings, then a loud screech as Jophie careened through the portal and dove towards Faye. A pair of familiar gyrfalcons chased after her, talons outstretched.
INTRUDER! The male falcon shrieked.
STRANGER! His mate echoed.
Faye shielded Jophie from their attacks by tucking her beneath her arm, and shooing the others away.
"Quiet, all of you," Faye admonished. "I need to speak to the Witch of the Woods. Is she coming?"
The raptors all fell silent, glaring at each other. They might have hated each other, but they at least still listened to Faye, even after all these years since she had first sent them through to Freya's woods. There was another flicker from the portal, and a red hawk swooped through and landed in their midst. Freya, wearing her disguise.
"Thank you for coming, my lady," Faye said, bowing to the hawk, and shifting Jophie to her arm. "Pardon for the disturbance. My messenger was one of the fist falcons I tried to send to you. She did not like your lands, and she is not pleased I asked her to try and reach you. Please excuse her manners."
Freya stared at her suspiciously, not dropping her disguise.
What is your intention? Freya asked, speaking to Faye in the language of raptors using her body posture, head carriage, and feather movements to communicate.
Faye took a deep breath in preparation. She had rehearsed dozens of ways to make her plea without sounding like a beggar, and none of them quite worked. She would have to negotiate without leverage, and place herself in debt. Odin was still watching Freya, and anything Faye told her could be compromised.
"You gave me this plant years ago," Faye said, holding out the last stem of the mysterious herb that has saved her son from the brink of death. "I am looking for more of it. Can you tell me where to find it? Can you help bring me more?"
What is your intention? Freya repeated, more emphatically.
"It, I - I used it to treat someone who was sick," she said. "It worked. I used all of it. They might become sick again. I seek more. I can bargain for it. Please."
Freya grew agitated. She circled between the ground an an overhanging branch, giving a cacophony if different signals and meanings, none of it fully coherent. Confusion. Danger. Surprise. Deny. Danger.
"I am sorry, I do not understand," Faye said. The language of raptors was elegant, but it lacked the vocabulary and syntax to convey complex information.
The hawk paused her wild dance. She began to transform, turning into a woman matching Faye's own height. Black hair cascaded down her bare shoulders, which were adorned with bands of tattoos. The two women stared at each other, tense as bear sows meeting in adjacent territories.
"What are you?" Freya asked.
"I cannot answer that now, as I could not before," Faye said. If her own warding spells were successful, Freya would have a hard time remembering the exact details of their conversation within a few days. It was not perfect, but it gave Faye some protection against the goddess piecing too many clues together to deduce who Faye was.
"Please," Faye said again. "I can repay you. We can negotiate. I am seeking more of this herb."
Freya took it from her, the two women briefly touching hands.
"I cannot give you more," Freya said, shaking her head. "That was the last of my stock. I am sorry. I thought you knew, I thought you were - I am sorry. The bunch I gave you should have been enough to last for a century. A small stem is enough to break almost any fever. Are you a healer for one of the settlements here? I have other herbs I can give you, or teach to you. Your falcons have been repayment enough."
"Only one person," Faye confessed. "I tried a small amount, but it was not enough. And then more. It worked a little bit. And then more. It worked. But I ran out."
Freya was silent, her brow furrowing. She slowly shook her head.
"I do not know of any illnesses like this. Either a small stem works very well, very quickly, or it does not do anything at all and the illness is beyond its ability to heal. It cannot stop death. You can boil it or burn it, it works either way. To take the entire bundle so quickly… . In small quantities, the herb cures. The entire bundle would be poisonous, maybe even deadly. "
Faye thought of the hours Atreus spent unable to swallow after the unholy illness left him. Of how his father was starting to revive him by painstakingly dripping water into his mouth.
"There were negative effects," Faye said. "They were manageable."
"It was not an ordinary illness, was it?"
"No."
Freya sighed and handed the stem back to Faye, their hands brushing again.
"You are lucky it worked at all. I do not think anything I give you could help. Next time, you will have to bring this person to me. I may be able to help, but I have to understand who they are, what might be happening." Freya looked straight into her eyes. "I may need to know what you are. It is all important. The answers will be found in lore, not in medical knowledge."
"Very well," Faye whispered, meeting her gaze.
It was the answer she did not want to hear, but the answer she had been expecting to receive. Atreus and this goddess were entwined with each other through some thread of fate outside of Jotnar knowledge. Freya had saved his life twice already. There would be a third time. Good thing Faye she had spent the last nine years figuring out all of the possible ways to break into Freya's territory; she could use that knowledge to guarantee that Atreus would find Freya in his time of need, even if Faye could not be there to mediate it.
"Do you need to bring this person to me now?" Freya asked
"I do not think so," Faye said. "I am scrying on them, and they have stabilized. But, perhaps, if they take another bad turn…"
"These two falcons can stay overnight here, and be my messengers. You can ask them to summon me," Freya offered. "Now that I am looking for them, I can get here quickly."
"Thank you," Faye said, nodding to the two falcons. They dipped their heads back in acknowledgement, remembering her from when she had last seen them five years ago.
"Do they help you?" Faye asked, eying the falcons. "Are they still stabbing out the many eyes of Odin?"
"Some do," Freya said. "Some are. The big female, the first one you sent, picked too many fights. She was slain a year ago."
"Pity," Faye said, looking at Jophie. Jophie did not seem too impressed about her sister's death, but such were the ways of falcons.
"The other four still fly," Freya continued, pointing at the breeding pair. "And they have offspring, now. The ravens are still in my forest. They still spy on me, but they do not travel freely any more. They are always on the move, always hunted. They cannot just watch me all day, like they used to. Thank you."
Freya took her leave, swooping back out into the forest while the pair of falcons stayed behind. Jophie launched off Faye's arm and sped back towards her home portal, taking care to rake her talons through Faye's hair before ducking out into the forest.
Faye chose to stay in the alcove. It put her in a better position to summon Freya if necessary, and something felt deeply wrong about her returning home while she was possibly under the influence of the Souls of the Slain. It was a situation she needed to understand better. If they could start manifesting in her vision, she was not clear what else they could do. As if on cue, Hyndla materialized back on the ground, her robes fanned out before her.
"You know that Freya's a complete bitch, right?" Hyndla sniffed. "She called me a goat once."
"Shut up, Hyndla," Faye said wearily. She picked up the Leviathan axe and began performing the sequence of improvised dance steps that served as a counter spell to the influence of the Souls of the Slain. Dawn stance. Woodcutter. Ironwood. Stormbringer. The counter spell enclosed her mind like a fortress. It had been foolish of her to attempt scrying without protecting herself earlier. It would not undo the damage already done, but it might prevent her from slipping further into insanity while she scried through the moth to watch over her husband and son.
Faye found she had more influence over the moth than she did before, and could readily move it from a dark corner in the cabin back towards the hearth. She regretted, once again, that she had not told Kratos that she was attempting to scry through it before she left. If she had known it would actually worked, she would have, but it had made sense at the time to not say anything.
The fire was roaring in the hearth, and it was dark outside. Faye had apparently lost another few hours of time in her short conversation with Hyndla. Strangely, Atreus and Kratos were not inside, so Faye guided the moth through the open door and out into the yard.
Kratos was organizing the jumble of wood out of their haphazard piles, and into neat stacks of cords. To Faye's surprise, Atreus was on his feet, bundled in thick furs and leaning heavily against the side of the cabin. His knees trembled and his face was pale, but he did not look in eminent danger of collapse, despite how he had spent the last two days close to death.
"Why did you cut so much wood? Mother says it's dangerous to store so much close to the house over summer," Atreus said.
Kratos paused his work, eying the boy skeptically.
"Go back inside," he said, not unkindly. "You are going to fall over."
"Don't worry, I won't. Did you cut all this wood because it's going to get really cold again? Like a few years ago, when it kept snowing for months after equinox?"
Kratos grunted and resumed stacking wood. As he worked, he said, "I am surprised you remember that year. You were very young."
"I'm good at remembering," Atreus informed him. "How often does that happen? What causes it? Can you tell when it's going to happen next?"
Kratos paused work again, and drinking in the onslaught of questions and puzzling through which one, if any, to answer first. It was an expression Faye herself often wore when trying to manage their son's voracious need for answers and knowledge against having a few minutes of peace every now and then.
"It has happened a few times that I remember. I do not know to predict it," he said at last. "Your mother probably does."
"Is she really alright?" Atreus deflated, scuffing the ground with his heel. "Her wound, I mean? She seemed fine, but she must have been hurting badly."
"Hurt? From a hunting arrow?" Kratos snorted. "You lost her nets, boy, be more worried about that. Those were her favorite."
"Being shot by a hunting arrow does not hurt her? She's really alright?" Atreus pressed.
"Not from an arrow like yours," Kratos said. Faye knew he was referring to nonmagical arrows. "She was well enough to travel. She said she will most likely return tomorrow."
Maybe it was best for Faye to stay away from them right now, even besides the fact that she was under the influence of a supernatural being. This was the most peaceful interactions she had seen between them in a long time. It was a pity it arose from such desperate circumstances, but Faye really believed her husband might have had some type of breakthrough. Like the terror of the last few days, the need to care for Atreus on his own, had awakened the gentler part of his nature. Perhaps her continued absence would only help this interaction blossom in a way it never could if she were around.
"But how did she heal so quickly?" Atreus continued, the gears in his head grinding away. He was picking at a thread that did not make sense.
"It is her way to heal quickly," Kratos said, his voice growing tense. Her husband had always made it a point to not ask Faye too many questions about her abilities. But Atreus thrived on asking questions, hungered for answers, so he pressed on.
"But… according to her stories, an arrow wound is normally very slow to heal. Weeks or months, if they heal at all. At least, it is slow for the mortals from Midgard. Other creatures from other realms, maybe…."
Kratos snapped his head up, eyes narrowed, shoulders tensed.
"Either go rest and be quiet, or go get the fishing nets you lost in the river," Kratos snarled, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "No more questions."
Atreus shrank back against the cabin wall, startled by the venom in his father's voice. His knees buckled, and he slowly slid to the ground.
With the dangerous questions silenced, Kratos walked over to Atreus, helped him back to his feet, and ushered him inside. Faye guided the moth back inside, and settled back on a resting spot among the rafters. Now that Atreus was silent and compliant, stifling his own curiosity, Kratos had softened once again.
It was not… perfect, Faye decided. But it had been a very hard night and day for both of them. Have faith in them, she assured herself, watching over them from the eyes of the Aurora Silkwing moth. They can work through this together. The worst thing for me to do right now would be to interfere.