Page 10 of Heart of the Wolf
Saying nothing, Astrid disappeared into a far room, only to reappear a moment later to find Brielle standing in the same spot she had left her.
“Come.” Astrid wrapped slender fingers around Brielle’s wrist, tugging her along. “A bath. Then, more water and food. You’ll feel better.”
Dirt was caked into her nails and hair. Brielle could do with washing away the grime from the previous day. Not only the physical dirt, but she could still smell the latent stench of the men who attacked her on her skin. She followed Astrid into the interior room, dimly lit by a sliver of sunlight peeking in through a small gap in the wall.
A basin filled with steaming water sat in the center.
“What is your name?” Astrid asked, her accent thick as she struggled to form the words.
“Brielle.”
Without acknowledging her answer, Astrid tugged at her shift. Brielle squeaked and danced away, forcing the garment back down. No one had ever been so bold. Blushcolored the tops of her cheeks. No one had seen her bare, save for her mother when she was a babe.
“There is no shame,” Astrid said, waving away her insecurities. “Our gods do not disgrace us for our beauty. Women are a gift. Blessed creatures that should not be ashamed of their bodies or desires. Freyja knows this. Be proud of it.”
That contradicted what Brielle had been taught. Ever since she was young, Brielle’s father had instilled in her the importance of modesty. Granted, she had never mastered it. Brielle wasn’t ashamed of her body. However, she didn’t flaunt it.
Astrid waited patiently, her fingers laced across her waist.
Not wanting to sit in the stalemate any longer, Brielle nodded, giving the woman permission.
Tiny fingers unlaced the ties of Astrid’s bodice as she dropped it to the ground, stripping herself of her cloak and dress.
Brielle sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t look away, thinking it would be rude to appear affronted by her host’s sudden nakedness. Peaked rosy buds pebbled in the cool air, her movements revealing a thatch of kempt hair at the crux of her thighs.
Brielle refocused on the bath in the background, feeling she had succeeded in not appearing rude.
“See,” she said, gesturing to Brielle. “Now you. Before the water goes cold.”
Not keen to stand naked on display for longer than necessary, Brielle shuffled out of her dress and slipped into the bath before Astrid had time to comment on her breasts or other features. Creases formed around Astrid’s eyes as she smiled, nodding before redressing.
“While you wash, I’ll get more food.”
The woman vanished in a blur of blonde hair, leaving Brielle alone and confused. On the edge of the basin hung a piece of cloth that Brielle grabbed, soaking it with soap and scrubbing away any reminder of the ordeal from her body.
With each stroke of the fabric, more air filled her lungs. Leaning back, she dipped her hair into the water, watching as dried blood and dirt mixed into the now murky liquid.
Content that she had gotten most of the blood out, she slipped from the bath. Water dripped from her hair as she squeezed the excess out before redressing. Moving into the main room, she stoked the fire with fresh logs from a nearby pile, letting the heat from the flames help dry her.
Astrid returned with a bowl of stew and fruit, passing Brielle another skin of water.
“Drink,” she huffed. “If Úlfr returns and finds you underfed, he will be displeased.”
Displeased with whom, she wondered. Not that she needed to be told. Brielle dug into the stew, releasing a quiet moan when the fresh beef hit her mouth. The tart tang of apples hit her tongue as she plucked pieces from the plate, licking the juice off her lips. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten something so hearty.
Rations were tight back home. Brielle spared what she could, giving her portions to children and the elderly.
“Thank you,” Brielle offered, draining the skin of water.
“Yes. You are most important,” Astrid grinned, and Brielle balked, taken aback. “Once you are finished, grab your cloak, and I will show you the village.”
Brielle chewed on her lip, finishing the last bite of stew before standing and fetching her tattered cloak.
Astrid’s words lingered.
Despite being the only healer in her village, she never described herself as important. Perhaps it was a language barrier between Norse and English. Astrid must have misunderstood the meaning of the word important.
Fiddling with the finicky fastening of her cloak, Brielle followed Astrid outside.
