Page 30 of Heart of the Wolf
The settlement embraced a sort of frenetic energy. The air vibrated with the clang of hammers. Carts filled with grain and fish rumbled along the well-worn tracks in the dirt path. Women laughed, their faces pinkened, and with baskets full of harvested goods tucked under their arms.
One girl, barely knee high, wobbled with a bundle of wood precariously teetering in her arms. A tall, statuesque woman stood above the girl, stroking her fingers through the little girl’s hair, keeping a steadying hand on her.
Those were two of the people Leif told her about. The ones who had been relocated from a smaller outpost. At night, while in bed, Leif shared many things with her.
Where she had grown up, women weren’t included in conversations. Information wasn’t shared. Here, it was given without Brielle even having to ask. Leif did not hide things from her.
While helping him cleanse the sticky mess from his face, he told her of the men he had killed. About why he had done such a thing, and asking her if she forgave him. If the blood woven into his scars bothered her.
With only the scent of them and the fire, she held him, assuring him there was nothing to forgive. The lives taken by his hands only endeared her to him, making his arms the safest place she’d ever known.
Maybe it was a sin to find peace in the hands of a man like him, but she welcomed whatever punishment came from her choices.
Loud voices carried over the hilltops, breaking Brielle from her thoughts. Astrid giggled at the young children running through the streets.
“Someday,” Astrid murmured.
“You want children?”
“Oh, yes. I pray Freyja does not give me tiny Amunds or Leifs. I fear I wouldn’t survive.”
The ends of her braids slipped through her fingers as Brielle fought a smile. Images of the three of them as children running through the village as others did now made her heart swell.
“How did you and Amund find each other?”
“Leif and Amund grew up together. As close as brothers. Trained together. When Amund asked Leif for permission to court me. Leif broke Amund’s nose.”
“What?” Brielle shrieked.
Astrid only laughed, clutching her chest.
“It was needed. A young Amund was entitled. He thought he deserved me. Leif showed him he had to earn me. And now he is my sun, and I am his moon.”
A tiny force barreled into Brielle’s legs, making her stumble. She caught the young girl before she tumbled to the ground. Bright green eyes twinkled in the sun.
“For Konungr’s kona,” the little girl babbled.
A delicate crown of twisted juniper and rowan lay in her tiny hands. As the girl bounced from foot to foot, she placed the tiara of wildflowers atop Brielle’s bowed head.
“Thank you,” Brielle said, the buds' petal soft beneath her fingertips.
The bustling hum of the village quieted into an eerie silence. Stones shook under footsteps as a broad figure blocked out the sun. The blacksmith, Styrr, glowered at them, his forearms crossed over his chest. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably at the lingering glare he raked over her. Astrid stiffened, the furs of her cloak brushing Brielle’s face.
Styrr spat at her feet as Norse words spilled from his mouth, each one louder than the last.
Cold sweat itched her palms, but Brielle refused to show any weakness. Through sheer will, she forced her heart to calm, keeping her features relaxed.
Astrid hissed, passionate fury falling from her lips as she dared to step into Styrr’s space. When she was done, Styrr scowled before storming toward his workshop.
Every eye followed him.
Slowly, ambient conversations flowed again, children laughing, and the confrontation forgotten.
Still huffing, Astrid mumbled to herself, pulling Brielle in her wake.
“What did he say?”
“It is nothing,” Astrid said, threading her arm through Brielle’s. “You need to eat.”
