LIKE ALL GOOD things, my relatively peaceful time with Soren ended. I stood at the mouth of the cave, a hand shielding my eyes against the glint of sun off the snow. The clothes Skadi had gifted me fit perfectly: a hooded tunic lined inside with rabbit fur, leather armor that covered my chest and shoulders, trousers made of bear skin, and a cloak of wolfskin around my shoulders. At first, the wolfskin cloak struck me as odd—Skadi’s family were wolves—but that was the natural cycle, Breki explained. When the pack died, they went on to continue to serve their goddess. Besides, he mentioned, the wolf I was wearing hadn’t been well-liked anyway.
Soren was beside me, pushing jerky in my hands. “You need to eat. Your hand will heal faster.”
Despite the charred skin and the pain that never truly went away, my bad hand had healed well enough for me to grip a bow. Nerves made it nearly impossible to eat, but I choked down a few pieces of jerky anyway. The moon hung almost invisible in the sky like a cat’s claw.
“Seppo.” Soren looked back into the cave. “Are you almost ready?”
“Ah—in a moment!” There was a scuttle of claws across the cave floor, and Seppo came out, Hreppir on his heels. Both of them looked slightly haggard, Seppo sporting a black eye and scratching his arms raw. The younger wolf was nibbling on his shoulder as if he too had an incurable itch.
The black eye was my fault. When Seppo came back from his time trying to rid the wolf pack of fleas, he noticed Soren and me as we’d been before I fell asleep. His laughter and declaration that he knew it would happen was enough to wake me up and make me charge him—completely naked—and give him a few bruises. In the end, Soren made me stop. But it took a while.
“How long do you think it’ll take to get out of the mountains?” I asked the dark wolf beside me. Breki’s shoulders were a bit higher than mine, so he bent down to look in my eyes. “And to find the path of the stag?” There had been a feeling spreading through me ever since last night, my own insatiable itch that nothing mattered more than finding the stag before Lydian. Nothing. In the swirls of snow, the shape of the animal formed and spun before bounding away. In the wind, a voice was beckoning me forward. We needed to find the stag. We needed to do it soon.
The wolf snorted. We’ll be there before the new moon.
Soren glanced at them from the side of his eye. “Are you sure you didn’t pick up any fleas?”
Seppo hissed as he dug his nails into his shoulder and continued scratching. “Skadi said that fleas don’t bother goblins.”
Soren blinked slowly and took a deep breath. “Of course she did. Well, just stay away from us until you sort yourself out, you understand?”
Seppo harrumphed and pointedly turned his back on Soren, rubbing Hreppir between the ears.
Beside me, Breki knelt so I could mount him. It was like riding a horse, if that horse were ten times more agile and swift, with a thousand times the ferocity and predatory grace. I gripped his thick, gray-black fur; it was warm in my freezing hands. I’d gotten a pair of leather gloves from Skadi too, like Soren and Seppo had, after my old ones were misplaced on some mountainside during the battle with the draugr. Even if my old fingerless gloves had been threadbare, they were better when it came to using a bow. I was already in bad shape due to my hand; I didn’t need anything else holding me back, so I forewent the new gloves.
Breki took the lead, and Soren and Seppo climbed onto their wolves. It was the first time I’d been in the lead of anything. As a human child, I trailed my sisters; as an adolescent, I tracked the men of my village; as a captive, I was dragged behind Lydian’s horse; and as a thrall and companion, I was always one pace behind Soren wherever we might be; and now, fully accepting my power and place in the world, I was in front, leading the charge.
The wind picked up again, and I pulled my hood up to shield my face from the worst of it, concealing my braids underneath. The snow drifted from the sky, flakes dancing in the wind. Then out of the air came a stag—the stag—made of the swirling snow and winter air. Its dark eyes peered into mine, beckoning me forward. Then without a sound, it disappeared into the wind.
“Did anyone see that?” I asked.
“See what?” Soren said. “I don’t see anything but these damn mountains, and I want to stop seeing them as soon as possible.” He threw a smile at me to take the sting out of his words.
From behind him, Seppo shook his head. “Nothing but snow and wind.”
I swallowed. Maybe I was just seeing the goal I desired; there was magic in the mountains, after all. Or my eyes could have been playing tricks on me, the gleam of sunlight on the falling snow playing games with my sight. It didn’t matter. We had an actual stag to find.
“Let’s go,” I said, and Breki shot down the mountain, his two pack mates bounding behind him.
This time, I forced myself to keep my eyes open as the world raced beside me. The wind stung my eyes as we plunged down the mountain; the wolves leapt from crevice to crevice, crack to crack with the grace of dancers. The landscape turned to a blur of blues, purples, and grays as we rushed forward. Every so often, one of the wolves let out a howl of pleasure. They must’ve loved to run as much as I enjoyed riding them.
A foreign presence nudged at the boundaries of my mind. Open your mind to me, Breki said. Let me show you how it feels to be free. I closed my eyes, allowing him to enter and share. Unlike when I was bound with Panic, my mind fought to reject the animal sharing my mind. Relax. I did.
The gray world exploded into color. The cliffs above were dark blue and green, purple on the borders. Skadi’s mountain home shimmered with a dusting of glimmering light. The wind whispered secrets in my ear; it tugged at my skin, my fur, my hair as if inviting me to play. Below my feet the rocks were hard and slippery, but I knew every step of these mountains. I knew every crack and every crevice, every divot and every outcrop. I ruled the mountains.
The smell of ice and cold and sun and prey was tantalizing on my tongue. The frozen ground was littered with the scents of countless animals: small mice and artic foxes, voles and snow cats. They all lived here, but this was our domain.
Each time we leapt, muscles stretching out to lengthen our stride, our heart sped up and adrenaline shot through our veins, and we breathed out in exhilaration as we landed safely on the next rock.
Thunder pounded underneath our feet, the heart of the Permafrost thrumming with strong, even beats. Inside my own body, my heart sung as blood called to blood. Here, now, racing through the forest, I was more connected to the world than ever.
WHEN THE SUN sank in the sky and the time came to stop and rest, I was breathing heavily. The euphoria from our run down the mountain buzzed in my body. The air down here was easier to breathe than the sparse mountain air, so I managed to recover quickly. The sky swirled with violet and orange, a canvas made by the dusk. Disappointment at the thought that I’d never experience something like this again sank my good mood a little, but the forest called to me like blood to blood. The chirping of birds and the rustle of creatures under leaf reminded me of how much I missed being among the trees.
“We must be closer to the border,” Soren said, looking at the foliage, “if there’s this much life. I can see the stag lines; they’re faint, but they’re there. It will probably take us into human territory if it doesn’t linger on the border.” There was a note of warning in his voice. If the stag was still close to the border by the time the new moon struck, Lydian’s plan would unfold with ease. Even if we found it, it could be too late. If Soren doesn’t survive the fight … I shook myself. I wasn’t even going to think of the possibility.
“Do you think Lydian is nearby?” I asked.
“Yes.” I ignored the chill that went through me. “He’s definitely close. I can feel him. The closer we are to each other, the more danger the stag is in, and the more danger of confrontation.”
Seppo let out a low whistle that shook the leaves from the trees and caused my ears to ring. I brought my hand to my ear to make sure it wasn’t bleeding as Seppo glanced at me sheepishly. “Oh, sorry. Sometimes I forget how powerful they can be.”
I rolled my eyes. Only a goblin like Seppo would have a magical whistle.
“We’re playing a risky game here,” he said, ignoring the face I was making at him.
“You were the one who brought us into the fold,” I reminded him.
He sighed, scratching behind his back again. Red patches dotted with blood cropped up on his arms and shoulders, and he groaned in misery. I shook my head, trying not to laugh. He actually has fleas, then. Well, he’s not sleeping near me. Poor Hreppir. The young brown wolf was trying to scratch his back on a particularly thick tree, only for the roots to snap from the ground. He stopped and let the tree fall back into the dirt, glancing guiltily around the clearing.
“It’s not your fault, Hreppir,” I assured the pup.
On the contrary, Breki said. It is.
Hreppir snorted and sat as dignified as he could, wrapping his tail around his legs.
The temperature was dropping rapidly. Frost replaced the moisture in my nose and formed on my eyelashes. I clutched the cloak of wolfskin closer to me, greedy for its warmth.
We continued until the darkness made it impossible to go forward, and even then, no one seemed happy about having to settle for the night.
“Sleeping will help if we’re going to confront Lydian,” Soren offered, but all of our eyes were on the ever-disappearing sliver of moon. “Hel knows we’ve bad enough odds without being sleep deprived.”
I ignored the last comment and unrolled my bedroll. Sitting down, I checked to see how my hand was faring. I moved each finger and squeezed a tight fist. The motion was almost like normal, but the skin was still an ugly blackened color with redness underneath. Just like the barely cooked meat Soren enjoyed. The pain was ebbing away, though, and I could move it. That was what mattered most.
Soren sat beside me, his own bedroll spread out. He handed me the waterskin and waited as I took a long drink. When I gave it back, he offered the jerky and a few pieces of dried fruit.
“I’m fine.” There were too many nerves coiled in my stomach for me to eat much. Even if we did find the stag—or Lydian—we had no plan. The stag was simple. Just kill it. Lydian had a whole pack of men with him. Soren was powerful, but even with Seppo and me helping, he wouldn’t be able to take on a whole hunting party.
“You need to eat,” Soren said, the hint of a growl in his voice. “You haven’t eaten enough. When a creature like me, who doesn’t need to eat daily to survive, has to remind you to eat then you need to eat.”
“Fine,” I said, taking the food from him. “As long as you stop growling.”
“It’s not an angry growl,” Soren protested. “It’s a concerned one.”
“I can’t tell the difference!” I snapped, then sighed. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and lay back on his bedroll. Lykka lay at the head of it, her gray fur silver in the moonlight. Soren checked to make sure Seppo was sleeping before speaking. “I know you’re nervous.”
“I’m not—” I gave up trying to hide it and lay down next to him with the cloak as a blanket. “Even if we find Lydian or the stag or Lydian with the stag, we have no plan. We have no idea what to do. And last time I checked, he still has twenty-some more men than we do. Going in ourselves and fighting, we’re all going to die. There is no way we can win this.”
Soren brushed back a strand of hair that’d fallen in my face. “We’re going to win,” he said. “And you’re going to be safe no matter what. I promise.”
“It’s not fair.” I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself. “He isn’t supposed to have any hold over me anymore. He isn’t supposed to scare me. I faced him. I won’t cower from him. I won’t let him harm me. I’m stronger than what he can do to me. I know that. But then why am I still scared? Everyone gives me too much credit.”
“Just because he holds no power over you doesn’t mean the memories will disappear,” Soren said softly. “Things like that stay with you no matter how hard it is to forget them. It doesn’t mean you haven’t survived. It doesn’t make you weak.”
I inched closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around me. My head was nestled in the groove of his shoulder, and my quick breath slowed to match his steady pace.
“When did you get so wise?” I asked.
“Around the same time you came to life,” Soren said. “Sleep.”
Came to life. Over a hundred years ago my fate was sealed with the burning of my village. I clung to the memories there, the good, bad, painful, and ugly. I held the traits that should’ve made me human in a death grip as I lived in the Permafrost, keeping my distance from everyone. Came to life. When a fire was burning in a forest, sometimes the best thing to do was let it burn itself out. Then when the forest grew back, it would grow back stronger, its roots dug firmly into the earth. Sometimes a part of you died to let the rest of you continue living. I clung to bitterness and hate—at Soren, at the gods, at myself—until the roots within me withered and died. The oak is the strongest tree in the forest, but the willow bends and adapts. When the fires and storms hit, it is the willow that survives. I was now that willow. A part of me always knew that, but now that part wasn’t ashamed of it.
I fell asleep to the whispering of the willow trees.
THE FOREST SHIMMERED with the silver moonlight. It was silent except for the rustling of the leaves in the wind. They were fully grown, fleshed out in the trees. Not Permafrost trees. Not even border trees. These were trees from the human world. Tall, alive, and green as grass. They weren’t the only signs of life. Fresh grass, gorse, and brambles grew wild under my feet. Ripe berries clung to their vines, just waiting to be picked.
A rustling in the shrubs behind me caught my attention, and I turned, reaching for my bow. But there was nothing where the weapon and quiver usually lay. The stiletto on my hip was gone too. All that remained were the clothes on my body.
The rustling noise came again, closer this time. From between the greenery, light brown antlers peered out and flashes of white fur kept reappearing. Then a wet black nose stuck through the branches and with it came a young white buck.
The stag.
Wisdom twinkled in the animal’s black eyes. This creature before me was ageless, sacred, with nothing that came before him and nothing that came after.
He kept my gaze for one second longer before gracefully leaping through the underbrush.
I followed, crashing through the bracken. It’d been a long time since I’d had practice stalking with this much foliage, and from the noise, it was showing. But the stag didn’t quicken its pace, staying just ahead of me.
“Hey!” I called out. “What do you want?”
The stag stopped and turned his massive head to face me again. Those large, wise eyes met mine and slowly blinked. His long eyelashes brushed against his pure white fur, and I stepped forward. He bounded away.
I almost screamed in frustration. “If you’re trying to talk to me, just do it already! I’m done playing games! You’re in danger!”
By now I was running, calling to the stag. But it kept on going faster and faster until it was almost a dot on the horizon. “Hey! Please come back! Talk to me!”
Just when I thought I’d lost sight of it, I entered a clearing. “Clearing” probably wasn’t the right word for it. Nothing grew, no trees, no grass, no weeds. The land was just ash and dirt. The stag stood at the center, waiting for me.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose at the openness of the burnt field. In the open there was no cover, no advantage, no way to hide. The stag could even kill me if it had a mind to; there was nothing I could use to defend myself.
I steeled myself. The stag wasn’t going to kill me. “What do you want?” I asked, approaching the animal.
He pawed at the ground, once, twice, then twice more.
“What are you trying to say?”
He snorted and pawed at the ground again. The ground. He wanted me to look at the ground. But there was nothing on the ground, nothing except for ash and dirt.
But I bent down anyway, unable to deny the stag’s command, and brushed the dirt away from where he’d been pawing. Eight hard lumps rolled into my hand. They were seeds, though I didn’t know what type. They must’ve been ancient, but there was life gently stirring inside them.
I stood. “What does this have to do with anything?”
The stag came close enough for me to smell his hot breath; it smelled like the grass and the wind and the sun all rolled into one. He pressed his nose to my cheek, filling me with his warmth. Then he bounded away, leaving me in the open field.
WHEN I WOKE the next morning, I was uncomfortably aware of the eight small lumps in one of my pockets. It couldn’t have been just a dream, not if the seeds were still with me. There were no stories of the stag visiting a person in their dreams; so why me?
We rode at a slow pace through the forest as its dead came to life. Despite the discomfort deep in my body, I said nothing about my dream. We already had enough to worry about without having to interpret a dream. Who knew, the seeds could’ve rolled in my pocket while I slept. We were all thinking of the stag; surely dreaming of it was normal. But it was just that. A dream.
We’d gone a bit before I started to smell the difference in the land. Wet earth, moss, and growing things, the scent of life all around me. I breathed in deep, trying to capture the smell and remember it for all eternity.
“We’re about to cross the border,” Soren said. “Be careful. Be watchful.”
I looked around. There was barely any marker that this was the place between worlds, only that the ground shifted from brown and frozen to soft and green.
A bubble of disappointment rose in my chest. Out of all the times I imagined returning home, I expected to feel some type of joy and freedom. But there was nothing; it was just a place like anywhere else. It might’ve been my home once, but that was long ago.
The stag’s trail was now a thick silver line as the wolves trotted through the trees. They weaved their way through the forest until it became thin again. My nose crinkled at the smell of sulfur and burnt earth.
“We won’t run into any humans here,” Soren said, and Seppo nodded, a grave look on his face. Perhaps he was thinking of his father, if he’d been taken from a land too close to the border. Maybe he never even knew who his father was.
We’d entered the burnt lands. Villages too close to the border of the Permafrost were always raided, but the ocean nearby was full of fish and whales, the forest plentiful with herbs and game. If it weren’t for the goblin raids, one could live out a good, long life there. And many still try.
The sky above me was tinged orange from the haze that hung in the air. Unease pressed hard against my throat, but we continued forward through the ashy ground until something made me stop.
I wasn’t quite sure what it was, why a tugging in my gut told me to go farther east. But, almost trancelike, I slid off Breki and started forward. Underneath my feet, the ground crunched and crackled; I was walking on bones. They’d never decomposed; not even after a hundred years. My heart was empty of rage and shame as I tried to remember what the village looked like before. Before there were huts and lodges that sheltered multiple families, dogs running through the camp, and women tanning hides and sewing clothing out in the sun. Now all that was left was ash. Ash and me.
Soren dismounted Lykka and started forward, but Seppo grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Let her do this alone.”
Bones still crunched against my boots, and I forced myself to squat down, to examine them and see if I could figure out who they belonged to. Man, woman, or child, someone I knew, someone I loved, someone I hated. The bones were smooth and cold, strangers in my hands. Briefly, I wondered if the dead were watching me, judging my choices, but I found I didn’t care. It wasn’t my fault they died. Just as it wasn’t my fault that I’d grown anew.
I dropped the skull fragment I was holding and stood, trying to envision the village again in my mind. Where had I lived? Where had I grown for seventeen years, unaware of the life laid out for me, until I was pulled out of that blissful existence by a monster of a goblin?
I couldn’t tell. That was not my life anymore.
So I stood in the haze and the ash, stood among the bones of the dead and the scrap iron that had remained untouched throughout time. I stood there, in what was once my home, and closed my eyes, the emotions churning through me bringing me to my knees for a second time.