The Broken Link

Fourteen

After assuring my friends that I am fine, that yes, it was just a bad dream, and no, I did not need to rest more, we all scavenge some food, and walk out of the home we took shelter in.

Elsa begins to walk us in the direction north, and I can't help but throw a glance over my shoulder, back where Mac lives. I remember the look of loathing he gave me, and the deadly getup he wore in my dream last night.

***

"Do you think Mac told us the truth? We've been walking for hours," Astrid groans a while later.

It's true though. We have been walking for a few hours. At least the storm cleared up though, and we now walk in a brisk, clear weather in the forest.

"Maybe he did lie," Elsa agrees quietly, and I notice Astrid look away from Elsa discreetly. Ever since Astrid admitted to me that she was worried about what Elsa said to Mac, I've noticed how Astrid has managed to avoid Elsa all morning. Which was quite a feat, considering it had just been the three of us walking alone all morning.

I study the ground carefully. Although the storm last night would've washed away any footprints, the dirt path that we're travelling on looks worn down. As if a whole lot of people had paraded through. Or more specifically, a whole clan had paraded through.

"No, I don't think he lied," I protest. "The ground has been worn down here. It looks like a lot o' people 'ave passed through here. If we hurry, we might be able tah catch up with them. Being a smaller group should 'elp us catch up tah them quicker."

"If they're all like Mac, I'm not sure we want to catch up with them," Elsa mutters, and I can't help but wince.

Nobody says anything for the next hour. I'm too much in anticipation for an argument to break out. More like, I'm afraid of one. It's possible that I could swing Astrid's axe through the air, cutting the thick tension that haunts us.

Bored, I try to braid my hair so it stays out of my face. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my crazy, untamed hair. But when it starts stabbing my eyes and crawling in my mouth and nose, I feel a little suffocated. It's no use though. When I try to braid it back, it stubbornly springs away from my grasp, teasing me of my attempt to contain it.

I see Elsa smile a little at my failed endeavour to push away my hair. I frown good-naturally at her, but Astrid notices, and frowns at Elsa too. She isn't doing it in good fun though. It reminds me of when we first met, and she was cold and distant towards me. Even though we might've settled our differences, it still seems like it doesn't matter, if we can't trust Elsa.

While walking, I hear some other voices. Astrid and Elsa both look at me, picking up in it too.

"Do you think it's the clan?" asks Astrid. Elsa nods, but Astrid continues to look at me, ignoring Elsa.

"Yep," I reply. "Maybe we should go an' try tah catch up tah them?"

"Fine," reply Astrid and Elsa simultaneously. Astrid rolls her eyes, but Elsa doesn't notice.

Gritting my teeth in annoyance, I trudge ahead of my friends, looking for the clan. Thinking better of it, I sling my bow off my back, and nock an arrow in its place. After seeing Mac in bloody armour, I feel weary around the clan. Even if it was just a dream, I can't simply shake it off. And Astrid did have a point. Mac knew who I was, yet offered no help to me. Maybe the rest of the clan knew me too. Maybe they would offer nothing but silence too.

Astrid rests her axe comfortably in her hands, taking in my stance. Elsa wrings her hands together, looking a little pale. Um, paler than usual.

As we speed up, the voices become louder. I can hear booming laughter, sneering remarks, and yells of anger. I exchange a guarded glance with my friends. I think back on what Elsa had said. If the clan MacIntosh was anything like Mac was, I'm not too sure I want to catch up with them either.

Finally, we begin to see the outlines of the tall, bulky men ahead of us.

"MacIntosh," Elsa whispers.

"Should we call out to them?" Astrid asks quietly, looking at me.

"I dunno," I murmur back softly.

"I think we should," Elsa says. Astrid glares at her.

"I was asking Merida's opinion, not yours," Astrid snaps. Elsa looks taken aback. Then, she glares at Astrid.

"Well, excuse me for trying to help!" Elsa seethes. It's almost like we're back in the living grounds at MacIntosh, watching everyone lose their cool.

"Nobody asked for your help!" Astrid snarls. Elsa balls her fists angrily. Around us, it starts to snow.

"Guys?" I try to interrupt, but they both ignore me.

"What is your problem, Astrid?" Elsa demands, her voice rising in pitch.

"My problem?" Astrid repeats loudly. "You're my problem. I don't trust you."

Ahead of us, a couple of men turn around curiously. They're dressed similarity to the Vikings in Berk.

"So much for calling out to them," I mutter.

Astrid and Elsa continue their bickering. "What?" Elsa spits out.

"Nobody in their right mind would trust someone who isn't normal! Like you!" Astrid shrieks. Elsa loses her anger, and all I can see on her face is defeat, and a tinge of fear.

"Astrid!" I yell, forgetting about the men for MacIntosh who had seen us. "What tha hell?"

"She's right," Elsa blurts out. "I'm not normal."

"Both of yuh! Stop it!" I holler. "Nobody 'ere is normal! Both of yuh are acting like a couple o' babies!"

"Merida-!" Astrid begins to yell, but I silence her.

"Shut it!" I scream. "I'm sick of yuh both bickering! How are we supposed to be ah team of we can't trust each othah?!"

"Merida..." Elsa says urgently, but I ignore her.

"No! Both of yuh, suck it up!" I yell.

"Merida!" Astrid hollers. I glare at her.

"What?!"

"My Lady," says a new voice. "I didn't expect yuh to be joinin' us!" A tall, skinny man stands behind me, hands on hips. He wears clothes similar to Mac's, and even has a blue tattoo just like his. In fact, they look strikingly similar. Could this be...?

"Don't yuh remember meh? I'm the best Lord there be," booms the man cockily. No doubt about it now. This man must be Mac's father.

*suburban mom voice* I have to go to the PTA meeting, but I have to drop off the kids to soccer in the minivan, lol!

Anyways...

The next update might take a little while, so sorry :(

*suburban mom voice* Store-bought treats aren't the same as homemade, Shannon. You're fooling nobody, and you should be ashamed this is a bake sale dammit.

Suburban mom is my new aesthetic.