The rain had stopped, leaving a cold mist filling the spaces between the pine trees. It made the breath of the men and dogs smoke from their mouths, but it seemed that the scent of the bull elk had been lost for the time being. The jarl's men took the opportunity to enjoy the unexpected break, resting against dark, sodden trees with their spears and talking quietly among themselves while the lead hunters walked with the hounds through the wet underbrush.

Herleif was glad for the rest after the long trek through the forest. He sat on a fallen log with his long spear resting across his lap, his dark hair dewy with mist and clinging around his ears. They were three days into the hunt and would hopefully come upon the elk soon as the beast led them deeper into the forest, but, for now, his mind was filled with thoughts of home and who awaited their return rather than the chilly stillness of the present. One face kept appearing in his mind's eye as if she might walk out of the mist to greet him. The ghost of a smile spread across his lips as he imagined her pale features and shining blonde hair, that shy smile and knowing glint in her eye that always seemed to tease him whenever they saw each other. He felt foolish and excited to be thinking of her out among so many men on a hunt. His cheeks turned warm with embarrassment despite the cold, and he quickly glanced around, fearing someone might have seen.

Turning his attention back to the hunting party, Herleif huddled down in the blue woolen cloak his mother had made him and waited for something to happen. He looked on ahead to where his father, Jarl Bjǫrn Steel-Hide, was chatting happily with another man upon their horses as they waited for the hunt to resume. He watched as his father laughed at something the other man said and gripped his arm in a friendly manner, an act that made Herleif tense for reasons that filled his heart with hope. Sitting next to the jarl, Ander Ottarsson laughed as well, the wrinkles lining his face creasing as a big smile broke his graying beard. Their shared laughter boomed and echoed through the forest, surely doing the hunters no favors as they waited for the hounds to pick up the scent again, but Herleif didn't care. That sound only meant good things for him, but the intrusion of his younger brother sitting down beside him quickly brought his moment of silent contemplation to an abrupt end.

"This is boring," Gunnar said loudly as he plopped down on the tree, earning a few disgruntled glares from the older men around. Gunnar's long hair was loose and wavy around his face, nearly hiding his youthful features, but Herleif didn't miss the way his brother was tugging at his shirt and matching cloak around his neck in annoyance. "When do we get to go back to the hall?"

"Be quiet. I am trying to listen," Herleif said in answer, turning back to Bjǫrn and Ander's conversation.

"What's the point of hunting if we never find anything to kill?" Gunnar sighed.

"I told father it was a mistake to bring you."

"Nuh-uh. I'm gonna kill the elk myself, just wait and see."

Herleif looked at his little brother and grinned. "Maybe if we tie you to a tree, you can lure a bear to us instead. They seem to like you well enough, Bear Cub."

Gunnar's eyes widened for a moment before he looked down at his feet dangling off the fallen tree. "Don't call me that..." he mumbled. Herleif couldn't help but chuckle at his brother's embarrassment but realized that the conversation he wanted to listen to had gone quiet. It seemed that Bjǫrn and Ander had leaned in closer upon their mounts to talk more privately, leaving Herleif to only guess at what they spoke of. "What are they saying?" Gunnar asked, wondering the same. "Do we get to go home soon?"

"I do not know," Herleif answered, wishing he did. "I said be quiet."

Gunnar gave another loud sigh. "All old men do is talk. It's boring."

Herleif shot his brother a dirty look. "Lord Ander saved our father from a Knight's blade in the Underlands. You should speak of him with respect."

"You saw it?" Gunnar asked thoughtfully.

"Yes. He is a good man and a true drengr. Father has done well to honor the man who saved him, and Ander has been gracious with the gifts Father has given him since we returned home," Herleif said. Looking back at the two men, he recalled the prior months he had spent sailing on his father's longship, the Salt Boar, and his first raid into Ashfeld. The experience had been as exhilarating as it was harrowing. He had killed his first enemy on foreign land but had also nearly seen his father struck down by a Warden's longsword after an arrow had wounded him. If it had not been for Ander's axe, Herleif would have been made fatherless that day and perhaps made jarl before he was ready. "He is a Raider, you know," Herleif said to Gunnar with a smile. "The man swings an axe like a jǫtunn. Cleaved that Warden right in two."

A big smile spread across Gunnar's as he craned his neck to look around Herleif at their father and Ander. "I want to be a Raider once father takes me to Ashfeld! I will be a legend and I'll swing my axe hard enough to cleave apart three men at once. Just you wait!"

"You will grow up to be an insufferable ass, I know it," Herleif chuckled.

"I'll prove you wrong. I'll grow up to fight everyone and become famous all across Valkenheim. Too bad Ander doesn't have any sons to fight. That would make me famous for sure. You can't fight a man's daughters..."

"Oh, I forgot, you are already an ass."

"I hope I have many sons when I am old. Then we can go fighting and raiding together and make a great saga of our battles. If I have daughters, then I will know that Loki is playing tricks on me."

Herleif pondered a moment on the thought of having children. It made his heart beat faster, thinking what a joy it would be to have sons and daughters to call his own. He thought about the woman he would wish to wed and have children with, imagining her vibrant blue eyes and golden sunlight hair. He thought about making children with her, then had to adjust the way he sat as his face turned hot. "I am sure having a daughter is a wonderful thing," he said, trying to concentrate on listening to his father and Ander rather than letting his mind wander. "She could grow to become a great shield-maiden, a Valkyrie, or unite families together. If anything, I bet having a sister would have been a much quieter experience growing up." Gunnar punched him swiftly on the shoulder, and Herleif only gave a mild grunt as the cold numbed the weak blow.

"Girls are annoying," Gunnar grumbled.

"Give it a few years," Herleif said.

"The only girl I like is Ragna, but she hits too hard in the training circle. She's as vicious as a wolf. One day, me and the lads are going to gang up on her and teach her a lesson."

Herleif rounded on his brother and grabbed Gunnar by the collar to pull him close. "You leave Ragna alone, you hear me? That girl has suffered enough in life without having to put up with shit from you and those other whelps." He held onto Gunnar's cloak until his brother frowned and nodded, then pushed him away. "Remember what father said. A true drengr fights better with those beside him rather than worship his own legend. Not that you have one to boast of yet, Bear Cub."

Gunnar huffed in annoyance and pulled at his cloak. "Neither do you. Father takes you on one raid and you come back prancing around Brosmegard like you're the jarl."

"Is that a title you would rather claim yourself?"

"No. Being a jarl sounds boring, just like this hunt. Everyone is always asking you what to do, and you must have a wife who always nags you all the time."

"Not all wives nag."

"Name me a wife who doesn't nag."

"Do you wish to ask father if mother is a nag?"

Gunnar pressed his lips together in a tight line and quickly shook his shaggy head. "She nags us, though," he said.

"Yes, but we probably deserve it," Herleif said wryly. Then he grinned, enjoying the idea of his little fantasy too much to keep it to himself. "Do you think Audhilda would be a nag if she were my wife?"

"Audhilda!?" Gunnar exclaimed with a big toothy smile, his blue eyes going wide with surprise. Herleif's face fell, remembering now that his brother was never to be trusted with secrets. Gunnar hopped up onto the log and threw himself at Herleif in his excitement, tugging on his cloak and rocking him side to side. The boy had always been strong for his age. "You want to marry Audhilda Andersdóttir!?"

"Be quiet!" Herleif hissed, trying to push his brother away. All around them, the older men began to take notice of Gunnar's laughing, and Herleif felt his face go hot with embarrassment that he might be caught doing something so foolish as daydreaming about a girl back home.

"Ander's right there! We can ask him," Gunnar teased, still laughing in Herleif's face. "You can be as happy as Freyr and Gerðr for ever and ever, and she can nag you all the time about how terribly you wield your sword!"

"I said be quiet!" Pushing his hand against Gunnar's chest, Herleif shoved hard and threw his brother off the log and into the wet bushes below to land with a grunt.

"Herleif!" came the boom of Jarl Bjǫrn's voice through the trees. "Be kind to your brother!"

"Sorry, father," Herleif said, turning his back on Gunnar as the boy struggled to get up with his cloak tangled in the bushes. He saw his father looking none-too-pleased, but next to him, Ander was watching with brows raised before he glanced at Bjǫrn with an amused smirk in his beard. The two old warriors shared a silent moment between them, and then Ander looked back to Herleif with a kind smile and nodded. Herleif's heart nearly leaped into his throat. Again, he wondered what Ander and his father had been discussing, but he dared not hope that an arrangement between their families might come true.

It seemed far too good a thing that such a lovely fate should be his.