A storm had come to Kattegat as she was sleeping, she was sure of it. The smell of lightning and heavy rains lingered about her and she took a deep breath to hold on to it. She peeked out the crack in the wall to search outside. The beach was windblown but remained intact, the houses were not stripped of their siding, and only a few chickens roamed the street outside their home. Thunder rolled in the grey skies above Kattegat and Lhyrie shivered. She reached for a fur to wrap around her shoulders before lighting the hearth that vanquished in the night. Summer was here, but didn't feel like it.

It had been less than a week that Ragnar, and Jagar with him, set sail for England but it felt like ages for Lhyrie. She wasn't quite sure what she missed from the group that left. It was illogical for her to miss Jagar, especially only knowing him for a week before he left; she thought she missed the idea of him, a suitor figure, someone to dote on her and talk to. Perhaps her mother was right on trying to find her a husband quickly. She began to see the allure of one finally.

Lhyrie grabbed an apple from a bin and chewed on it, thinking about Jagar and when he would return. She did need to make a trip to the market today for more yarn and other trinkets and quickly gathered her things to start her day. She wrapped a cloth bag around her neck and shoulders before dumping a few apples out on the table to use the bucket to carry the items she needed at the market. Closing the door softly behind her so that the wind wouldn't slam it shut to waken her mother, Lhyrie turned up the street toward the edge of town.

After the raids left town, the streets settled to their usual routine. Farmers waked early to bring in cattle and chickens to sell, traders opened their stalls along the main street and the stray drunkard roamed idly muttering under his breath. She helped a cart free itself from the soft mud as she passed by the Great Hall. Ragnar's banner was missing from its post atop the peak, just like the dream she had earlier. It was not, however, laying on the ground. It must have blown away in the storm, she thought. She was glad she wore her hardened boots this morning, as she felt her heel slip as she trotted through the suctioning mud after the cart.

Several bushels of moss, seaweed, lavender, and Rowan berries later, Lyhrie thanked those she bought from and wiped the dirt from her hands onto her sopping dress. The rain was barely spitting as Lhyrie she was shopping, but enough to soak her dress and hair. Thankfully she had grabbed the fur around her shoulders. She pulled it tight around her as she nearly slipped and fell in the muck; she balanced herself and laughed with her arms pulled out in front of her, half buckled over.

As she was regaining her posture and shoes from the mud, she heard someone call for her just ahead. She looked up and saw a head sticking out of the Great Hall's doors. "Lhyrie, come here!" called a woman with fire-red hair.

"Good morning, Sigvi," she replied, treading carefully in the troughs and puddles of mud.

"The Queen wishes to see you," she said, opening the doors of the Hall for her.

Lhyrie was hesitant with the layer of mud caked onto her shoes and dress to enter the hall. "I would make a mess," she answered.

Sigvi gave her a look, noticing the splatter of mud on her dress and peered over her shoulder, presumably at the Queen Lhyrie couldn't see. The door opened wider and Queen Aslaug stood before her.

"Lhyrie," she acknowledged. "Would you do me the honor of coming to supper with us tonight?" She asked. "It is dreadful quiet with Ivar and Hvitserk gone." The Queen looked saddened with the mention of her sons, but quickly wiped the look from her face and gave a weak smile.

"Of course, my lady," Lhyrie replied. She tried to hide the look of disappointment of dining with her sons with a smile. "Should I extend the invitation to my mother, as well?" She asked, praying not to sup alone.

"I would like to talk to you, alone," Aslaug said. Lhyrie's stomach churned. "She has told me her stories, now I want to hear yours."

"It would be my honor," she said, giving a slight head nod to the Queen has she returned inside. She tried to resist a groan as she rolled her eyes, but a small one squeaked out. Sigvi laughed.

"You look as though it is torture," she whispered softly, looking back to make sure the Queen was out of earshot.

"Ubbe and I haven't exactly been in great terms since I've come back," Lhyrie whispered back.

"Ah… because of Jagar," she said with a chuckle.

"I don't think that's the whole of it," she said, biting the inside of her lip. Lhyrie parted ways with Sigvi and made her journey back to her uncle's house, again careful not to add another layer of mud onto her shoes or dress.

The rain had finally stopped and the sun had made its appearance before the day fell dark. Lhyrie was dreading the supper all day as she worked in her aunt's shop on the beach. Figuring she prolonged the inventible long enough, she went to change her dirty dress for a same red one she wore the night of the feast.

Guards opened the grand doors to the Hall and the chatter that was happening inside silenced. The large table at the center of the room was set with 4 large chairs and far too many plates and goblets. Flowers were scattered about, trying to provide some feminine warmth against the harsh metal settings. Sigurd was already seated at the chair closest to the doors, drinking ale and picking at a root already on his plate. Queen Aslaug entered through the curtains when she heard the doors opened.

"Lhyrie, thank you for coming," she said as she gave her an awkward hug. "Pick a seat."

Lhyrie moved toward the seat next to Sigurd, who acknowledged her with a grunt and head nod with his mouth full. Aslaug chose the seat across from her son, as Ubbe slowly moved through the curtains toward the table. He gave a heavy sigh and pulled the chair out across from her.

"So, Lhyrie… what did you learn on your travels?" Queen Aslaug asked her as servants brought out hot broth and ale to them.

Lhyrie watched as the servants poured the steaming soup into the bowls while trying to collect her thoughts. "Um… more than I could place right now," she answered with a laugh. How could you sum up 5 years of knowledge so tightly? "It seems like I have forgotten my Frankish already." She took a spoonful of broth and blew the steam away. "I mainly stayed with the men protecting the town we lived in. Healing their wounds and such…" she trailed off.

Ubbe slurped his broth nosily.

"And they never made a pass at you?" Aslaug asked, surprised.

"Well they heard the tales of Viking shield-maidens, no doubt."

"I would be frightened too," Aslaug commented and sipped her broth.

The servants brought out several chickens that the men devoured as soon as they were set on the table. Lhyrie ate her food slowly and drank her ale a little too fast, making polite conversation with Aslaug to be appropriate. Ubbe hardly spoke and was concentrated on his meal.

"Why did you and Ubbe stay behind?" Lhyrie asked Sigurd about the raids as she drank a large sip of ale.

"Someone needed to stay here and protect our mother," Ubbe said frankly, the first words he had said all evening.

"And I am glad for that," Aslaug looked toward her eldest. "I will miss you when you go to Hedeby tomorrow," she said.

"Isn't Hedeby Earl Ingstad's earldom? South of here?" She asked, trying to regain her geography.

"Yes, we have been asked to come," Sigurd said.

"I wish you easy travels," Lhyrie raised a glass their way.

"Just as you did the farmer on the docks?" Ubbe peered over his glass. Lhyrie gave him a sharp look as he added, "I meant no disrespect, but was curious."

"Ubbe!" Aslaug cut in.

"I am making sure our dear Lhyrie's honor is intact, Mother," he snipped.

Lhyrie gulped and set her glass down slowly. She took a calming breath and said, "I didn't ask you to be my father while he is away, Ubbe."

"Your father died when Jarl Borg attacked, so –,"

"You know what I meant." Lhyrie felt her blood boil again.

"Yes, I did. I also don't want people to think you are a whore."

"Ubbe!" Aslaug exclaimed again.

"You don't talk to me but suddenly you're concerned with my honor? You could have avoided this if you just said hello to me from the beginning!"

"You were busy snogging other men!" Ubbe shot up abruptly.

"That is enough!" Aslaug said, standing to match her son. Lhyrie whispered apologies under her breath as Sigurd snickered. "You are not children."

"Excuse me, Mother. I have lost my appetite," Ubbe snipped, turning from the table.

Aslaug watched Ubbe walk away and behind the curtains before sitting back down at the table. She gave an exalted sigh and resumed her meal. The rest of the dinner went by in uncomfortable silence.

When the meal was finished and she was excused, Lhyrie ran home and quickly changed into a pair of slacks and a tunic. Blood still hot, she grabbed her sword and shield and made way to the empty barn that attached to her uncle's house. She filled a bag full of hay and tied it to a post. She pretended it to be Ubbe.

Back in the Hall, Aslaug downed the last of the wine from her goblet and rose from her spot. Sigurd had already left the table, joining his brother back through the curtains into their quarters. They were lounging on furs, laughing as Ubbe tossed a ball into the air.

"What was that?" Aslaug asked, stomping into the room.

"I do not know what you mean," Ubbe told her, continuing to toss the ball into the air. Sigurd hid his laugh with a cough.

"You used to be sweet on her. And you need to find a wife."

"Is that what that was supposed to be?" He laughed and then shifted in his spot. "Things change," he grumbled, avoiding the look his mother was shooting him.

Aslaug sighed heavily and rubbed out her brow. Her sons would be the end of her. "If nothing else, please apologize to her. I consider Heidrun a friend."

"Fine," Ubbe huffed. He rose stiffly and shook out his leg. "For you, Mother," he told her, kissing her lightly on the cheek before swinging though the curtains.

"Do not act as though it is torture!" His brother mockingly called to him as he pushed a side door open.

He squinted in the darkness. He once knew the paths to his friend's houses in Kattegat, but now everyone was grown and he didn't need to run there anymore. Lhyrie's house though, he could most likely still sneak into the side door easily. He still knew those steps by heart. His left foot started but stopped. No, they weren't there anymore. Mangusson was there now. Where was Drun's house? He set off, hoping he was going in the right direction.

He didn't want to do this. She could easily apologize to him as well. He wondered if he wandered around Kattegat long enough, he could lie and say he found her. No, he sighed. Aslaug would know. She always knew. Just then, while he was outside an attached barn, he heard grunts and steps and the sound of a sword slicing through the air, as though someone was practicing their sword fighting.

"Asshole… no right…" They huffed between slices. He found her. Another huff and the sound of the sword and falling hay filled the barn. He pulled at the door, but it jammed. Pulling his axe from his belt, he heaved the barn door again and it sprang open. His axe clashed against a sword.

"I'm sorry, I heard a ruckus," Ubbe said, lowering his weapon. Lhyrie kept her sword and shield up, wide-eyed. "You need a new opponent," he said, looking over her shoulder to his hay counterpart.

She didn't say anything or move, she just stared hard into him.

"You're angry over dinner." Her blank stare gave him his answer. He laughed. "Will you let me practice with you to make up for it?"

Lhyrie relaxed enough to lower her sword. "Let me put my sheath on, I wouldn't want to kill you… accidentally." She said, walking to retrieve the leather covering for her sword.

"That is not necessary," he said, flipping his axe.

"You do not have a shield."

"I don't need one."

"Arrogance will strike you down, Ragnarsson," she said, sheathing her sword, allowing her blue eyes and face to soften.

"Is that a threat?" Ubbe teased, setting his stance. He raised his axe in front of him, bracing.

Lhyrie lunged first, clashing with Ubbe's axe. He turned and jabbed for her side, but she blocked his attempt with her shield, knocking him off his balance. He regained his footing and swung again to her other side, stopped by her sword. Lhyrie turned in a circle and pushed her shield into him again - this time he didn't lose his footing. She stabbed into his side but was met by his axe, the look on his face told Lhyrie he wasn't expecting her to actually try to stab him, even with the sheath covering the blade. Ubbe stepped toward her and rose his axe toward her face, where she locked her sword with it between them. They clashed several more times before Lhyrie twirled again and tried to stab forward, causing Ubbe to step back.

She could feel her energy rising, brewing to release the anger she felt with him. She jabbed again and was blocked. It felt good – to show him how angry she was with him. Stabbing again, they moved in a well-choreographed dance, crunching hay underneath their feet. Ubbe began to breathe heavy, as though he was frustrated. Lhyrie blocked every jab he took and threw off his axe swings. After she had shoved him again with her shield and made him loose his balance, he charged at her, wielding his axe high. Lhyrie braced her shield up to protect herself and felt the axe embed itself in the wood. Ubbe tugged at the handle to free it, but it was lodged hard.

Lhyrie felt her sword lower to her side, almost relaxed. She gave a swift tug backward causing Ubbe to move forward and knock into her, pressed into her shield. He pulled his furrowed brow from trying to remove the axe onto her. Suddenly, he pulled his hands up to her face and kissed her hard.

She should have pushed him away. She should have kneed him between his legs and pulled her sword up to threaten him. But she didn't. She didn't kiss him back though, and her sword and shield dropped to her sides with her disbelief.

The seconds were brief that his lips were pressed onto hers and the time that lingered once he drew back felt like ages. She stared hard at him as his eyes were questionable on her face. In that space between them, the years spent in their childhood came rushing back to her. The anger she felt with him over dinner and over his anger with her leaving Kattegat were gone and he was just the little boy she shared her first kiss with, the one she first loved.

"Lhyrie, I –,"

Her sword flew from her hand and reached to pull his lips back down to hers. She dug into him, dropping her shield and stretching up on her toes to get closer to him, cupping her other hand behind his head. A hand moved into her braid, deepening their kiss, and another on her low back, pressing the length of her into him. She felt the outlines of muscle that filled his once lanky frame and pushed more into him, wanting to know more of them. He tasted like the ale from dinner and a sweetness that reminded her of Frankia. The kiss grew again, desperate and urgent. Then, she hesitated and Lhyrie dropped off her toes, pushing away.

They stood breathless for a moment, a foot apart. Ubbe had a small crick of a smile creep on the corner of his mouth and it showed in his blue eyes.

"I'm still upset with you," she shot at him.

"Is that so?" He smirked.

She glared at him, trying to rid the look off of his face as she bent down to pull his axe from her shield. She tossed it at his feet. "Why didn't you just talk to me at the feast?"

"And miss your outburst in the Hall?" He asked cheekily. Picking up his axe, he tossed it in his hands again before placing it back on his belt. It hung there naturally around his waist and Lhyrie forced herself to pull her eyes up to his face.

She shook her head and scoffed. "You haven't changed."

"You have." He said it so simply as he sat near where his hay counterpart had been cut open. She guessed he was staying. She sighed and, for some reason, her feet pulled her to sit next to him in the hay.

"Five years will do that."

Silence fell between them for a moment as Ubbe crunched hay under his foot and wrung his fingers. Her hair was loose from her braid and a strand of it fell into her eyes. She tucked it behind her ear. She never minded silence, but he did.

"My behavior was childish and selfish," he said quickly and so softly Lhyrie almost didn't hear. His eyes stayed down on his fingers, twirling around each other. "I'm sorry for my actions."

"I'm sorry for mine as well." She could see the weight fall from his shoulders as he took a deep breath next to her. She wasn't expecting an apology from him, as he didn't tend to outright say it, or admit a fault. But she was glad he did. "Maybe you have changed."

"Five years will do that." She laughed and he looked over at her. His laughter joined hers. She had yet to see the brilliant sparkle in his eyes when he was happy and here it was. It filled her chest with warmth. She missed that look while she was away. He cleared his throat. "So Lhyrie," he threw his voice into a high falsetto, mocking his mother, "What did you learn on your travels?"

She swatted him on his arm. "You try to recall everything you've done for the last five years."

"Slept, fished, slept," he implied, "fought, ate, drank, swam," he listed off. Lhyrie rolled her eyes. "Did you really learn Frankish?"

"I had to. How else was I supposed to communicate?" Ubbe hummed and smiled to himself. "What?" She asked him.

"You have done well." His voice held an air of longing ambition that made her want to take hold of his hand and travel back to Frankia for him to experience. Suddenly a picture of Ubbe reaching for her hand as she stepped onto a strange rocky beach came into her mind. He had tattoos but it was definitely Ubbe. They were both sunburnt and exhausted. She blinked the thought away.

"You are a son of Ragnar Lothbrok," she told him but he just shook his head. Gods, he was too critical of himself. She propped herself up, sitting on her knees just next to him. Placing an arm on his shoulder, she tried to shake the doubt out. "You are destined for great things."

He chuckled from her shake and nodded lightly as he tucked a fallen piece of hair back behind her ear. "I have missed you," he whispered. His hand trailed along the back of her head and was resting between her shoulder blades.

She smiled to herself. Ubbe finally made her feel like home. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his lightly, almost as though it was a decade ago and their first kiss. Then, draping her other arm around him, she shifted over to be on his lap. She kissed his cheek and rested her forehead on his, their lips hovering just over each other. She breathed him in and not only did he feel like home, he smelled like it. Like the salt water of the fjord; like old, cracking leather and of freshly forged iron.

"I missed you too," she breathed back.

His lips shot to hers as his hand encompassed the back of her head. Her hands cupped his face and she wrapped a finger through his growing braid. As a warmth started to build in her, she pushed closer to him and he answered just as wanting. She could feel him grow eager under her and a small moan stuck in the back of her throat.

His hands trailed down to her hips, resting, kneading and pulling them into him but they didn't play with the edge of the tunic or journey underneath. Kissing him deeper, she leaned further, somehow, into him, pushing him back into the hay they had sat against. Her hands roamed down his sides and moved to slide up his tunic.

"We do not need to," he whispered, his lips nuzzling her, his beard lightly tickling. Her fingers felt the prickle of the hair on his lower abdomen. She slid her hands further up to his chest. "Lhyrie…"

She sat up and tore her hands from under his shirt. "You were upset with me for not having sex before I left and now you don't want to sleep with me?" She started to push off him, but he grabbed her hand and brought her back to him. His other hand gripped behind her head as he pressed his forehead to hers, but his eyes pierced into her.

"I do… want… you," he nearly growled. She resisted the urge to fight against his holds. There was something about the fierceness that proved his words true. She could also feel the pressure that grew against his laces. "Delay until I come back from Hedeby… We will have more time and far better arrangements."

She didn't answer and continued to meet his close stare. She felt his eyebrows raise in silent question but the pressure from his grips remained strong. If she didn't agree, how was she supposed to storm away. Moving her free hand to just under his collarbone, she balled her fist and pressed her knuckles into the hollow there. The release on her wrist and head dropped and he recoiled from her.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For calling me a whore earlier," she sniped. She sat back as he rubbed out his chest but she didn't move from him.

"I did not want people to think you were a whore," he said quickly, "there is a difference." Ubbe tried to suppress a smile but a thin one crept onto his lips. She swatted him on his chest and accidentally hit the spot under his collarbone. "Ow!"

"Sorry!" She chuckled and lightly pressed her palm to the spot but feeling the warmth of his strong heartbeat under her fingers only made her want to rid him of his tunic more. She quickly snapped her hand away. "When do you return from Hedeby?" She asked, trying to hide the ache in her voice. Her hand rested instinctively back on his chest. This time she didn't move it and she let her desire grow. She hoped her face wasn't blushing as the flame grew again inside her.

"We should not be more than a few days," Ubbe sighed.

Lhyrie nodded and sighed as well. Before shifting off of him, she kissed him lightly again, lingering to draw out the moment. A hand of his ran through the side of her hair and he pulled her an inch closer into him, deepening her innocent start. The kiss swelled again, pushing and pulling like the flow of the tides, begging to burst through any composure built.

Her hands were still tangled in his hair and she didn't want to let go. Ubbe's hands were darting between a firm pressure behind her head and flirting with her tunic, fighting his desire. Then, a hand flexed on her low back as his other came up to grip her under the chin, halting their kiss and it caught her breath sharply. His breath was heavy on her lips.

"Curse you." He huffed. A smile twitched on her lips and a rough thumb ran over them, tugging at her bottom one. He released a ragged breath. "A few days…" he whispered half to himself. She kissed the thumb that was still pressed to her lips and he balled a fistful of her tunic in his other hand as he drew another ragged breath. She smiled again for a brief moment before his lips overtook hers, rough and hungry, with all of his composure lost.

The fingers that fought the tunic were now up it, wrapping around her shoulders, her back bare to the chill of the night. His other hand slid down her throat, finding her breast and digging at the front ties there. Their lips were hardly touching anymore as their hands were groping for anything they could grab of bare skin. Soon, her hands were at his laces, his were at hers and moans of five years of longing were quieted by the hay.

She was glad they didn't wait until he returned from Hedeby. She got to see the panic in his eyes when the rooster crowed and he realized he left Sigurd to prepare their horses because they fell asleep in the barn. "My saddle is going to be draped wrong and he will not pack food." Ubbe jumped up and quickly pulled on his trousers, beating the hay from them.

"Why can't you do it now?" She asked with a yawn, stretching.

"We were to set off," he squinted to see between the slats of the barn door to the sunlight slowly starting to rise, "now."

Lhyrie pressed herself up as Ubbe hobbled around pulling his boots on. Throwing her tunic over her head, she yawned again and shook out her hair. She ran her hands through it, combing it quickly before throwing it back into a single braid. "Stop rushing, Sigurd will not leave without you."

"It would be better if he did," he said absently, running a hand through his own hair to rid the few pieces of hay that stuck out of it. She pulled on her own trousers and boots as Ubbe was pacing about, reworking a coil in his braid.

"Do you want me to see you off?" She asked, almost sheepishly. It was still dark in the barn as light was starting to creep in, but it didn't hide the blush that flushed her cheeks.

Ubbe turned from his task and swept her into a kiss, leaning her backward into a dip. She squealed from the shock and laughed against his lips. "I can do that and everyone will know you are mine."

"That's a little theatrical for the morning," she laughed.

"You are right," he nodded, squeezing her close. "That can be for our return feast. How about just a kiss on the cheek?"

"That is more reflective of the dawn."

"Okay," he said. He grabbed her hand and whisked her toward the door, Lhyrie laughing. Outside, the dew was heavy on the houses and shops and it chilled her arms as the barn door slammed shut behind her. As it was yesterday, Kattegat was already starting to buzz with business. Lhyrie hid her face from her neighbor who left their house to fish as Ubbe and her rounded the corner, hand in hand. Ubbe spotted the axe on her neighbor's hip and turned quickly back to her. "My axe. It's still in the barn."

She gulped and nodded. She was careful this time, to not have the barn door slam shut behind them after Ubbe shifted through the hay to find his axe. Weaving back through the streets, they came to the courtyard of the Great Hall. Sigurd had draped two horses already and Ubbe groaned when he saw them. Aslaug was standing with her son as he was finishing preparing the horses, tying what looked like a final bundle to one horse. A small crowd had formed around them and Lhyrie stopped her feet at its edge.

Ubbe peered back at her and squeezed her hand. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, lingering longer than he should have. "I will be back soon."

"I wish you easy travels," she smirked.

As Ubbe let go of her hand and turned back toward his mother and brother, Sigurd let out a laugh when he spotted her. Lhyrie felt her face turn bright red. A few people around her turned to her to see who Sigurd was looking at and she wanted to turn and run back to her uncle's house, but stood and smiled back at Sigurd, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

"Are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?" Aslaug asked Ubbe as he passed and kissed her cheek. He cleared his throat, adjusting a strap on his saddle and flicked his eyes up toward Lhyrie. Aslaug picked a piece of hay from his shoulder. The flush in Lhyrie's face grew.

Sigurd laughed again and then groaned. "I owe Hvitserk an axe," he said, defeated. Ubbe shot him a look. "I bet him it would take a more than a month. Ow!" He added as Ubbe punched him on the arm.

Aslaug sighed and pulled both of her boys into a hug. "Be safe. Both of you." As they mounted and set off toward Hedeby, Ubbe gave Lhyrie a final wink and she felt butterflies start up in her stomach. The feeling was squandered when the dust settled and she noticed Aslaug staring at her. Lhyrie thought she would call for her to join her but was grateful the Queen just turned and the doors of the Hall closed to a dull thud behind her.

Pushing her own door open, Lhyrie jumped when she found her mother awake, cooking breakfast.

"You're awake early," her mother commented, glancing up from the fire.

"I went to the market," Lhyrie answered quickly.

"Again?"

"The vendors change daily. I wanted to see if anything new came in." Lhyrie poured herself a glass of water and sat next to the fire. The warmth was welcoming after the cool morning.

Her mother stirred the porridge that was boiling and hid a smirk. "Did Ubbe sleep well?"

She nearly choked on her drink.

"I don't know what you mean," she fumbled, reaching for a cloth to blot some water that she did spill. Her blush might be permanent.

"It was always uncomfortable sleeping on hay," she said, nonchalantly.

Lhyrie's skin crawled. "Please, do not elaborate further," she begged of her mother.

Heidrun laughed as she poured the breakfast into two bowls. Lhyrie noticed there were three set out. "Please tell me you were safe."

She turned a further shade of pink. "Mother!"

"You know I approve, but Afin will want to give his blessing when he returns." Her mother handed her the steaming breakfast and beamed at her. "And he would want to talk with Ragnar – so do not get with child." Lhyrie blew off the steam coming from the bowl and felt like it helped lessen her color as well. "I am going to help Helga today," her mother said, thankfully changing the subject. Lhyrie gave a sigh of relief. "Will you join me on the beach?"

"If you don't mind, I was going to help Sigvi with Biornolfr."

"Of course not, sváss."

Lhyrie tried not to rush through breakfast. She loved her mother, but she couldn't talk with her about Ubbe. Her mother looked peaceful as she left her to her stitching by the fire. She was mending a blue dress Lhyrie loved how her mother looked in. Heading out the door toward Sigvi's house, she wondered if she made the right choice. She smiled to herself and ran toward her friend's house.