"I will always honor my ancestors.
I will always impress my Gods.
I will always respect nature.
I will always speak my mind.
I will always fight for justice.
I will always defend myself.
I will never stray from honor.
I will never break an oath.
I w...
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"That's it, good girl," My palm pats Hefna's thick neck as she bends to drink from the flowing creek. She's thirsty and I've rewarded her endurance with a break and some well-deserved water.
The horse slurps from the brook and I crouch beside her and dip my cupped hands into the water and bring it to my mouth, wetting my tongue and throat.
We've traveled far south and have reached the land ruled by the Orm (Serpent) Clan, so the heavy furs required further north are no longer needed. The moment the air didn't have a temperate bite I discarded the piss-scented garment. My nose, I thought might have been broken after taking the hard fists of Ivan, is tender to the touch but the bleeding has stopped and I'm finding I still am able to breathe and smell through it.
My body aches after the daunting fight, but it's when it has taken a beating like this one I feel most alive.
I dip my hands beneath the chilly water again and bring it up smiling at my reflection in it. Yes, I indeed do look like Hel herself. The old large scar, gifted the night my father died, cuts downward from the inner corner of my black brow across the plain between my eyes, and diagonally down beneath my opposite eye, and finishes at the curve of my jaw. My face is speckled with dried blood, and my nose is swollen sporting a large bump on the bridge. And now, a fresh cut beside the corner of my lips boasts a scab.
Scoffing at my hideous appearance I drink again from my hands then flick them to dry them. I twist the large ring on my thumb, studying it. The mount on the ring is the head of a hjörtr (stag) and the inscribed etchings of the ring reads hjörtr clan.
Why was Ivan The Cruel wearing the ring of the hjörtr (Stag) people?
The quality of the ring proves impressive. The precious metals used to create it aren't something a common villager would be wearing. This wasn't something Ivan picked up on a raid, or his men picked from a random dead body, at least I don't believe it to be. This ring matches a ring I've seen Svea wear from her family's crest.
Svea and daughter of Jarl Aeffrith. Ally to Orms (Serpent) Clan. Also, one of my most treasured friends.
I turn it over and find written etchings carved delicately into the smoothed inside of the ring. I read the runes aloud, "Einn (One) Clan."
Hefna lifts her large head from the water then sniffs the ring I have in my hands curiously hoping for it to be edible then snorts, shooting her snot and water all over my hands.
"Many thanks, Hefna," I laugh and slip the ring back to my thumb then wipe my slimy hands onto the matted grass I sit on. "Shall we continue?" I ask her but she only looks at me with her large dark brown eye and long black lashes. Lifting my knees I rest my arms over them and admire the flow of the creak before me.
It's wide, with moss-covered boulders jutting out from the water. When it rains heavily this mere brook would widen into a river, but for now, in Orms Land where the forests are a vibrant green and in the season of Harpa*, the snow of the north remains in the north.
