29

Geri and Freki

image

I saw him,’ Ylva whispered when she was back at Cathryn’s side. ‘I went for firewood and saw the three-fingered man. He was right there in the woods. Him and four others. He’s still looking for us.’ She poked a stick at what was left of the fire. ‘I think it’s best to leave this for now. In case they come back.’

Cathryn opened her eyes and watched Ylva.

‘I had my spear. He was right there. I could’ve killed him. I’m sure I could’ve. If only I’d . . . Ugh!’ Ylva threw the stick aside in anger. ‘I failed Mother. I should’ve avenged her right then.’

‘Five warriors,’ Cathryn said. ‘If you’d attacked, you would’ve got yourself killed.’

‘But I could’ve got him. If I died it wouldn’t matter. I don’t care about me.’ She brought the wolf pup to her and held him in her lap.

‘I don’t believe that. I believe you’re a survivor, child, that’s why you’re still here.’ Cathryn shivered. ‘You didn’t attack him because you wouldn’t have survived, and that wouldn’t do, would it? For him to live and you to die?’

Ylva stared into the fire. ‘It wouldn’t be right.’

‘Uh-huh. Or maybe it’s something else altogether, Ylva the Fearless. You’re letting the fire die, so you must be afraid he’ll come back.’

‘Afraid? I’m not afraid, I’m—’

‘Concerned. I know.’ Cathryn turned her head to face the ceiling of the cave. ‘Did you hear the wolves?’

‘I did.’ Ylva took a strip of dried fish from the bag and offered it to Cathryn.

Cathryn glanced at it and shook her head. Ylva didn’t feel like she could stomach anything, either, but she knew it was important to feed herself. She took a bite and forced herself to chew.

‘And you know it’s not him howling, don’t you?’ Cathryn said. ‘That he can’t turn into a wolf, and he isn’t possessed by a wolf spirit.’

Ylva swallowed as a thought occurred to her. ‘But if the three-fingered man is Ulfhednar, then maybe the wolves are helping him.’

‘Child, I’ve been to many places and seen many things, but nothing has ever convinced me that magic is real. And even if Ulfhednar are real, the half-skulls are not them. I’ve already told you; they’re just men, and Bron’s arrows killed them dead enough. Remember that whenever you have any doubts.’

‘Do you promise?’

‘Yes.’

Ylva looked to the mouth of the cave and into the darkness of the forest. ‘How far to Seatun?’

‘A few hours’ ride.’ Cathryn closed her eyes.

‘Then we should leave as soon as it’s light.’ Ylva tore off a piece of fish with her teeth and offered it to the pup. He sniffed it then tugged it from her fingers and swallowed it in one gulp. ‘You’re hungry.’ She gave him another piece, and when he’d finished, she put her hand on the soft fur between his ears. The pup waited for more food, trying to lick her hand, but when it didn’t come, he sniffed and buried his muzzle under her arm. Ylva lifted him up and put her face against the side of his head. His smell wasn’t exactly like Geri’s, but it was similar enough to bring a flood of memories. ‘Do you think she’s going to be all right?’ she whispered in the pup’s ear.

‘I’m stabbed, not deaf.’ Cathryn half opened her eyes. A smile broke her lips and she started to chuckle. It was a low, throaty sound.

‘What’s funny?’ Ylva asked.

‘Chased all over Midgard by a horde of half-skulls and I fall on my own knife.’

‘That’s not funny.’

‘If I didn’t laugh, child, I’d cry. And you know what else is funny? You and that pup. I think you just about deserve each other.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means each of you is as sorry-looking as the other. Wild and alone and halfway to being fierce.’

‘I’m not alone; you’re here. And I have the pup.’ Ylva put him in her lap and held him there despite his complaints. ‘I’ll call him Freki,’ she said. ‘Odin has two wolves, Geri and Freki.’

‘I know. And I understand why you want to keep him, but your dog was not a wolf, and that pup is not his brother. It’s a wild animal and it will never be yours. It won’t replace Geri.’

‘No.’ Ylva allowed Freki to wriggle free and run to the end of his leash. ‘Nothing could ever replace Geri.’

‘And he doesn’t deserve to be collared like a slave.’

‘He’s not a slave,’ Ylva said. ‘He’s my friend.’

‘Perhaps you should let him decide that.’