Maiden - by Wilder Grey

Betrothed

The next few days were long and tiresome, and being home wasn't as comforting as it used to be; it felt foreign, and I felt alone.

I spent most of my time home in the forest with my bow and quiver of arrows.

The forest covered an enormous amount of land. If you went far enough, you could easily get lost. Even the most skilled hunter or huntress could easily lose themselves in the vast amount of dense greenery.

I think I want to get lost.

I liked the smell and feel of the prickly pine needles softening my footsteps as the mid afternoon breeze covered me in an embrace of mid autumn warmth and rustled the thick leaves of giant, ancient trees above me.

As the day waned, cold began to nip at the tips of my nose, fingers and toes.

I feel as swift as a deer, and as light as a sparrow in flight. Here in the midst of the dark green shadows and brushing against rough grey bark I found that my mind traveled to my past, pushing down all thoughts of my uncertain future.

I leaned against a tree and closed my eyes, remembering. If this remnant of a memory was a book, the pages would be bent and torn from being thumbed through so much.

It was a warm, comfortable time - the fire was lit in the hearth, where the large cast iron stockpot of soup hung over and filled the air with the aroma of spices, root vegetables and venison.

Móðir, bent over my Bróðir as he was just a wee bairn, nursing him as he napped and chuckling at me as I danced around Bestemor (grandmother) as she tried to teach me how to weave.

I giggled and sang and twirled in my pale yellow apron, stained purple and red with the mornings adventure of berry picking.

I was pretending my voice was the sound of a cow horn, bellowing and belting out some form of song that the herders had played this morning to the goats and sheep.

Bestemor patiently laughed to herself and pulled me close to her, forcing me gently to rest and quiet.

"Shhh smalr en (little one), we must let your Bróðir sleep. He must not be disturbed lest the Fe (fairy) come for him in his slumber. If you disturb him, Min Kjærlighet (my love), they may just come for you in your dreams as well." Bestemor winked and settled me on her lap.

Her tan, leathered fingers swiftly began to weft the woolen threads through the warp threads.

I watched in wonder and crawled off of her lap and sat on a small stool by her feet.

There was a light cough in the background, which is something that I had almost gotten used to hearing, so often lately I heard it come from my Móðir's lips.

And so hypnotizing, Bestemor was, that I almost didn't see the worried look that crinkled her lined, care-worn brow as she absentmindedly looked at my Móðir, sadness buried in her expression.

A sadness that I did not understand.

A swift movement caught my eye from the side, and I snapped out of my daydreams in an instant.

I drew my arrow and aimed with precision. The footsteps were too heavy for an animal of normal stature, too light to be a bear. I was not alone, I had human company.

"I must urge you to come out, min fjándi (foe), face me and fight me if you must. If you have a weapon, I'd suggest you lay it down and come closer slowly, as my arrow will hit your heart at the speed of a hare diving for it's burrow."