War Bird

19. Prayer That You Had.

My shift ends at 6pm and I trudge to the dormitory with the other girls who have also finished at this time. Dinner is at 6:30 and I need to wash. As I enter the dorm, I ready myself to at least attempt a smile at any of the girls in there who are changing and chatting amongst themselves. But no one gives me the time of day, they all clump together and whisper behind their hands. I see my bed and I desperately want to just go straight to sleep, but I stink. Someone has put a large towel and a bag of clothes on my bed and I wearily sort through it. The clothes are all black; a couple of skirts and blouses, one pair of trousers, some greying cotton knickers, socks and a horrendous looking bra. All stiff and pointy, it'll make my tits look like bullets. There is also a pair of black lace-up shoes under the bed and a paper bag containing a toothbrush, soap, shampoo and weird towel thing with pins that I think is meant to be a sanitary pad. Great. This place is backwards as well as dark and dirty. I then see something poking out from under my pillow. It’s a slim book, with a dark red cover covered in those spiky letters I saw in the tunnels. 

“Runes,” I murmur. It seems to be some kind of textbook. Grace must have left it here for me to learn more about this world I’m supposedly a part of. On the inside cover is a delicate drawing of what looks like a massive tree, but with lots of gnarly, twisty roots. It has several different-sized balls floating around it, but the one in the middle is the largest, with blue and green shapes on it. At the top is another ball, and this is the most beautiful of all. It’s coloured in jewel-like pinks and purples, with luminous blue light coming off it. It’s labelled ‘Asgadhr.’ Whatever that means. The ball at the bottom of the tree is dark, with reds and grays and dirty browns. As I look at it I develop a lost, despairing feeling in my stomach. A hopeless sensation that I don’t like. “Hel,” I whisper the word that’s written beside it. Hang on, Hel, as in, Hell? Grace said that runes were part of the language Vikings used. So this tree thing must be the way they imagined the universe to be made. Asgadhr, with all its pretty colours at the top is perhaps their Heaven or something like. So if that’s Hell at the bottom, the blue-green ball in the middle must be Earth. Home. Underneath the tree, in large, flowing letters, is the word ‘Yggdrasil.’ Well, that’s a stupid way to spell tree. How is that even pronounced? 

I quickly flick through the rest of the book. Each dimension within Yggdrasil has its own chapter. It looks like Hel is full of monsters; things I ain’t never thought could exist; trolls, harpies and a wolf-king called Fenrir with savage, bloody teeth. Apparently Fenrir was doomed to suffer a pretty nasty end over and over again; bound and impaled to a large rock by the other Gods. Eugh. There’s pictures. A horrible way to spend eternity.

There’s also a page given to each Rune, accompanied by small scratchy script that describes the Rune, what it means and how to use them. Runes have as much power as the Sorceror using them, and can be created using anything; ink, mud, blood... “Think I’ll stick with ink,” I say, quickly turning the pages. I then try and read the first page of text accompanying a Rune that looks like a signpost with two arms pointing up, but I’m so tired I actually can’t be arsed to focus on the tiny letters. The final section reminds me of a recipe book. But it’s not recipes. Spells. Actual magical spells that I could cast with the runes. If I had any power, that is. A funny cold feeling trickles down my back and I drop the book. “Stuff it!”

I hurry to the shower and spend a good ten minutes coating myself in layers of soap and suds. I don't even care that I'm washing myself buck-naked in front of girls I don't even know. I need to get the smell of those poultices off me. Maybe, if I scrub hard enough, I can forget the image of that horrible Fenrir monster. I dry myself with the scratchy towel and head back to my bed to put on the new clothes. The bra isn't as bad as I thought but the blouse isn't a very good fit. At least the buttons don't gape too bad. But what to do with the stinky old clothes? There's a girl on the bed next to me, brushing her hair, so I ask her.