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The next morning, Freya woke to the sounds of the village stirring to life. She lay still for a moment, the remnants of her dream with Uhtred still lingering in her mind. The warm summer breeze, the laughter, the promise that they'd always be together—it was a memory she hadn't let herself dwell on in a long time. With a sigh, she pushed herself out of bed, reminding herself that the day's tasks wouldn't wait for her to wallow in nostalgia.
Outside, the morning air was crisp, and the sun had barely risen over the horizon. The village was already busy, with villagers fetching water, tending to animals, and starting their day's work. Freya's steps led her to Ylvie's small home, her heart lightening slightly at the thought of seeing her friend. She knew she needed the company today—a break from the heavy thoughts that had filled her mind since Erik and Sigefrid's visit.
As she approached, she found Ylvie kneeling in her herb garden, her hands already busy with the earth. The healer looked up when she heard Freya's footsteps, her face brightening in a warm smile.
"Morning, Freya. You're up early."
Freya returned the smile, feeling some of her tension ease at the sight of Ylvie's calm presence. "I couldn't sleep much," she admitted, kneeling beside her friend. "Thought I'd come help you with the garden, if you don't mind."
Ylvie chuckled softly. "I never mind the help, especially not from you. Grab a trowel, there's plenty to do." She handed Freya a small tool, and they worked side by side in comfortable silence for a few moments, the sounds of the village fading into the background.
After a while, Ylvie glanced sideways at Freya. "You've been carrying a lot lately," she said gently. "Even if you're not the village leader, it seems like everyone's looking to you while Leif is away."
Freya wiped the dirt from her hands and shrugged, her gaze fixed on the plants. "I'm just doing what needs to be done. I'm not the one they should be looking to, but until he returns.I'll do what I can.
You have to remember that he saved me, and in return, I will protect his village until his back."
Ylvie gave her a knowing look but didn't push further. Instead, she changed the subject. "The blackberries in the woods are finally ready for picking," she said with a grin. "I was thinking of going later today. Maybe you'd like to come with me?"
Freya smiled at the thought. It had been a while since she'd done something as simple as berry-picking, and the idea of a quiet afternoon away from the village's worries sounded more than appealing. "That sounds like just what I need," she said. "I'll come with you after we're done here."
They continued working, chatting lightly about the village gossip—who was expecting a child, whose livestock had gotten loose, and whether or not the fishing boats had had any luck that morning. Freya found herself laughing more than she had in days, the weight on her shoulders lifting, if only for a little while.
When they finished with the garden, Ylvie stood, brushing the dirt from her skirts. "I'll grab a few baskets for the berries. Meet me by the woods in a bit?"
Freya nodded, feeling a small spark of excitement at the prospect of a quiet afternoon. "I'll be there."
As she made her way back through the village, she couldn't help but notice how much quieter it seemed today. There was still an undercurrent of tension—people sharpening their weapons, whispering among themselves—but the immediate threat felt more distant with the Danes gone, at least for now. Freya allowed herself to breathe a little easier as she prepared for her outing with Ylvie.
When she reached the edge of the woods, she found Ylvie waiting with two large baskets. "Ready for some picking?" Ylvie asked, her eyes bright.
Freya nodded, taking one of the baskets. "Let's see if we can fill these up before the sun gets too high."
They ventured into the woods together, the path familiar from years of foraging and hunting. The scent of pine and damp earth filled the air, and the soft rustle of leaves overhead was the only sound as they walked deeper into the trees. Freya felt a sense of calm settle over her, the worries of the village and the looming threat of the Danes fading into the background, if only for a little while.
They found the blackberry bushes in a small clearing, the ripe fruit hanging heavy on the branches. Freya and Ylvie set to work, the peaceful rhythm of picking the berries lulling them into easy conversation.
"Remember the last time we came out here?" Ylvie said, her tone teasing. "You ate half the berries before we even made it back to the village."
Freya laughed, the memory coming back to her. "I couldn't help it! They were too good to resist." She plucked a particularly plump berry from the bush and popped it into her mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness. "Still are."
Ylvie shook her head, smiling. "Some things never change."
They worked in companionable silence for a while, filling their baskets with the deep purple berries. The sun climbed higher, filtering through the trees and casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Freya found herself thinking of how much had changed since she was a child—how much responsibility she now carried—but here, in the quiet of the woods, it felt easier to bear.
After a while, Ylvie spoke up again, her voice softer this time. "You know, it's okay to take moments like this. You don't always have to be strong."
Freya paused, her hands stilling as she considered Ylvie's words. "I know," she said quietly. "It's just... hard to remember that sometimes."
Ylvie nodded, her gaze understanding. "Just don't forget it, Freya. You're allowed to breathe, to take a step back, even when everything feels like it's on your shoulders."
Freya looked at her friend, feeling a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the sun. "Thank you, Ylvie. I'll try to remember that."
They finished their picking, the baskets heavy with berries, and began their walk back to the village, the peacefulness of the woods lingering with them. Freya knew the challenges ahead hadn't disappeared, but for now, she allowed herself to enjoy the simplicity of the moment, the quiet companionship of her friend, and the sweet taste of blackberries on her tongue.
As they neared the village, the sounds of daily life began to reach them again, but Freya felt more prepared to face whatever the day would bring. With Ylvie's words echoing in her mind, she knew she wasn't alone in this—she had friends, and she had moments like these to remind her of the life she was protecting.
