Frida

Chapter 21 - You Wolf

Frida had been crying ever since she laid down on her bed that night.

Her thoughts were racing around inside her head arguing who could be Bjarni's murderer, and her heart was aching for his family. When Rollo and her had gone to visit them to pay their respects, a heavy shawl had wrapped around her heart for the blacksmith's children and his wife. Even though death was a big part of the Norsemen's way of life, it was never easy to lose a member of your family, especially not a father.

If the mother is the thread that holds a family together, the father is the pillar to which that threat is bound.

Frida sighed out in frustration as she turned around in the bed. Her eyes were dry and swollen, but she could not close them. Every time she tried to, pictures of Bjarni's cold and lifeless body on the blood colored heath would reappear for her eyes, his horrorstricken white eyes would look at her, blame her.

Frida felt the small baby inside of her move about, and she felt her throat tighten as she came to think about its future.

How many deaths would this little creature see during its life? How many cold and white bodies would it have to carry in its heart? How much blood would be spilled upon its innocent hands?

Frida bit her lip and sat up in the bed, darkness surrounding her closely. There were not many sounds in the big house, and Frida looked over to see the empty space beside her, where Ragnar should have been. But he had not returned yet with Bjørn and Torstein.

They were still out in the cold black night, searching.

Frida felt another movement inside of herself, and she looked down on her bulging stomach with tired eyes.

"What is it you want me to do, little one?" she whispered out in a light voice, stroking her hand over the stretched skin.

The baby acted as if it was impatient, urging her to do something. Frida pushed the covers off and rose to her feet, quickly covering herself in her woolen dress. She had to get out of the bedroom, out of the house.

The long-hall was empty, and the fire was low, only small embers left to spread warmth and light in the room. Frida inhaled the cold night air deeply when she stepped outside, and she immediately felt the life inside of her stir around, appointing her to move herself around the house. Frida wrapped her arms around herself, as the chilly night spread shivers all over her body, and she quickly walked around a corner only to lay her eyes upon the small fencing that led to the food storage.

Without thinking, Frida climbed the low fence and quickly strode across the paddock and stopped only when she reached the large clay pots, the perfume of their contents already reaching her nostrils. The fragrance of the different herbs and spices untangled something inside of her, calming her unsettled baby, and while absentmindedly reaching her hands down to grab a couple of different aromatic trusses, Frida's eyes traveled across the paddock, and quickly rested on the narrow path that led down to the small meadow where the villagers brought offerings for the gods.

Frida's eyes widened when the creature inside of her impatiently urged her to follow the path, and Frida threw herself over the fence, quickly and elegantly. She had to go down there, she could feel it in her insides, and while the wind was still colder than ever, Frida felt unusual warmth covering her skin, guarding her from the cold darkness that surrounded her presence.

Her steps were quick and flowy, and she deliberately ducked whenever she passed a window of one of the village houses, as she wanted to be alone. She did not want anyone to know she was out here. Ragnar would probably give her the whole 'the darkness of the night is not meant for you.' But he would not understand this, he could not feel the same urging inside of him that she felt in this very moment.