Curse Of Blood: Gods & Monsters

Chapter XLVIII - Heida

Winter was all that was death. A frozen darkness that thrust the world into fatal dormancy. Yet Heida was happier than she had ever been before. The man who personified that most raw and overwhelming of seasons, winter itself, was the same man who, at a variance with his purported nature, had enkindled her as no man had. Or ever could.

She was almost sorry to see spring arrive for it meant that the world was awakening around them. Raids were planned, convocations, or things, were already arranged; and worst of all was Thorgny's pestilential existence looming in futurity. She knew that Roth would have very little time for her, and she was, therefore, thankful that she had had him to herself these few, and precious, sunless days.

Regrettably, though, the sun did rise, banishing the snow even as it called forth the buds and shoots and awakened those that had lain torpid in their burrows.

Heida sat combing Finn's dark hair as Freki affected another cartwheel on the bed, laughing as he flew over the edge and fell to the floor. His brother, conversely, had made very little sound.

"Heida?" Finn had two figurines, one in each hand, and was wrestling them against each other quietly, the way the men were wont to do when they had drunk too much. It was a testament to his worldly little soul being far older than his body when he asked her, "Why did Mother leave us?"

She wished that it was not she that he sought these particular answers from. It was his habit to surprise her with questions when she least expected them. "I ... she did not leave you," Heida answered, her hand stilling. "It was the will of the gods."

"My grandsire said that too. And that she served her purpose well." His little brow puckered. "What did he mean by that?"

She knew he spake not of Thorgny, but peradventure he meant his great grandfather. "Ívarr said that?!" Strange, it was not something Aila's father would say.

"No."

Loki then. "You must be careful to whom you speak of him."

"I know. But he said you know my secret." Large blue eyes gazed earnestly at her. "He says a lot of things I do not yet understand."

"What else did he tell you?"

"That Mother was weak." Finn shoved his figurines away, turned a little, and rested his cheek on his knees to watch her. "She wasn't weak, was she Heida?" He gazed hopefully at her.

In those last moments before she'd died, Frida had harbored very little affection for Heida, and as a result Heida felt that she had no right to defend Frida's courage to her own son. And yet, all things considered, perhaps she owed her that.

"We, every one of us, Finn, bear both strengths and weakness. It is what makes us human." Although the gods too had their fair share of foibles.

Finn gave a curt nod of his head. "But it was a wolf moon. She should not have gone! Why did she leave?"

"Perhaps she ... believed your father in danger." From me. "So you see, there was strength and honor in her purpose after all."

He nodded again, a little mollified. "Do you think he misses her even a little?"

Finn was not blind. It was quite obvious that his father was contented and happy, finally, whereas he never had been before.

Heida's mouth compressed with uncertainty, unwilling to lie, yet wanting to soften the truth for a boy that clearly wanted someone to champion his mother. Roth never had; and he never would, even now. "He was very saddened by her death, Finn." In a sense, she was not lying, for Roth had been devastated by what he'd wrought.