Valknut

CHAPTER|45 The Morning After

As the wind tugged at her hair setting it free from its restraints, Catriona lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun's glare. A lonely horse galloped towards her from the horizon; its rider slumped over.  Darkness seemed to be in pursuit of the rider. She wondered which of the two would reach her first, the dark clouds or the rider. 

As she surveyed the land around her, she wondered where she was. More importantly why she was here. And how did she get here. She took note of the little hill she stood on, the vast never ending stretches of green fields around her and the lonely hut that stood behind her. Any minute now panic would set in. And she waited. But no, she continued to feel calm. Almost blissful. Like she was meant to be here. Like she knew where here was. 

As the setting sun swathed the sky in hues of pink, purple and rust, she found herself running down the hill to receive the approaching horseman. As he neared, she narrowed her eyes and attempted to focus on the details; the fur cloak that blew behind the rider, his messy hair that peeked at her from under his hood, the cuts and bruises that covered his arms and torso and the blood trailing down the horse's neck. Nothing gave her a clue regarding his identity. 

Still looking around her, she felt herself grow uncomfortable. Where was everyone? She was pulled from her thoughts when she heard a loud thud. The rider had slipped from his horse before it could stop. She lifted her skirts and rushed towards him hoping he hadn't hurt himself too badly in the fall. After all, he seemed terribly wounded already. 

Catriona knelt next to the rider and grabbed his shoulder with both hands. Pull she told herself. She strained to roll him on his back, but failed. He was too heavy. Dead weight her mind said. Frantically she looked around her. Nothing... No one... Anxiety began to set in. Unsure of what to do next, she tried again. And again. And again. Panic and despair rolled in, clouding her mind. Get a grip she told herself. Get a grip. She closed her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to free her mind. Slowly breathing in and out, she found a little clarity. Quickly she crawled over him, her skirts dragging in the wet mud. Wet? She looked up and realized it had begun to rain. Lazy drops of water quickly turning torrential. Darkness had caught up to them. 

Another feeling crept up... running out of time! her mind said. 

Time for what? she questioned. 

No reply. 

Silence. 

Overwhelming, mind numbing, paralyzing silence. 

She brushed all her thoughts and feelings aside and grabbed the rider's shoulders again. At the count of three she told herself. Catriona closed her eyes, breathed deeply and slowly, braced herself and counted. One... two... three... She put all her strength into pushing the rider onto his back. As the wet sloshy mud sucked him back to the ground, she found herself struggling. Painfully slowly, his body began to turn, and she pushed harder feeling encouraged. 

The rider let out a soft groan as his back connected with the hard ground. Hard? Wasn't it raining a second ago? Catriona opened her eyes and looked around. Dry. Absolutely dry. Where did the rain go? The water? The wet sloshy mud? 

Running out of time her mind said again. Frantically she began to run her hands over the rider. His pulse was quick, his breath short. He had several deep gashes and wounds but no obvious broken bones. She felt relief flood over her. Trembling fingers reached towards the riders face. As she wiped the hair away, a scream began in her abdomen and slowly worked its way up. Olaf!