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Ingvild was a woman with a broken heart.
She was but a young woman when she met him, fell for him from the very first sight, and began her life with him. Sadly, their time ended fast.
The love of her life joined the warriors in Valhalla when they had been together for barely a year, leaving her with a swelling belly and a small hut to live in.
She knew her lover's secret, knew what it meant and what she meant to him.
Minn máni.
It was rare to be bonded to a human, but he did not care. Turning his back to his Pack, he left them to be with his love. He knew not all ulfhednars approved of joining with a human, and saw mixed bondings as a deformity.
Gyda has no knowledge about her father's identity, other than the colorful stories her mother told her. Ingvild had to alter some facts of course, but she could not let her little Gyda live on without knowing at least small bits of her father.
She sat at their table, waiting for her daughter to come home. Her feet bouncing up and down in a nervous move, hands shaking and her bottom lip making its way towards her teeth to be chewed upon.
Gyda had been acting strangely as of late, and Ingvild did not know what to think of it.
Suddenly, the door was burst open and Gyda stumbled in, barely managing to close the door from the cold winter air. Then, she fell to the ground.
Ingvild took no time at all to rise from her seat and lunge towards her daughter. Gathering her in to the loving arms of a caring mother, she smoothed down Gyda's hair to inspect her. She could not stop the tears that escaped from the corner of her eye, or the horrified gasp she released, when seeing how beaten her baby was.
Her face, so beaten she had no part left without bruises or cuts, or both. Her hair, matted with all sorts of dirt and blood, and something that causes Ingvild's nose to stink once she smells it. Gaze dropping to her hands, she cries even more, when seeing that not one, not five, but all ten of her fingernails have been ripped out. Who would do such a thing to a child?
My child.
She barely had anything on to cover herself with, so Ingvild saw right away the rest of the torment she had endured.
Blood, covering her thighs, and when she gazed down a little lower, she saw her bottom bleeding as well. Someone had raped her in the most volatile way, and had forced himself to other places as well, not just through her hymen.
With a bleeding heart and careful hands, she lifted her daughter in to their bathtub, before running outside to fetch some water from a barrel near their home, and placing it over the fire to heat it. Repeating this process many more times, and also fetching cold water to make it warm, not hot, she began to fill the tub.
Gyda gasped and released a small moan of content at the warm water beginning to soak her suffering body.
Then, Ingvild began to scrub her daughter's dirt covered body, and massaging her limbs, before carefully wiping her intimate parts, stopping when Gyda whined in pain.
The rest of the night went on like that. Ingvild would clean her daughter, take some water out of the tub, fetch some clean water to be heated again, and filling the tub to the brim, again. They were there for hours, Gyda thankful for being scrubbed away of her Jarl's touch, and Ingvild in pain for the knowledge, that someone had hurt her child.
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A fortnight later, Gyda's bruises had began to fade, her cuts to scab, and her mind to calm down.
She refused to leave her bed for a week, barely spoke a word, or even ate a bite. Her mind was so broken, that she woke her mother up every single night with screams and cries of help. Invild was lost with what to do.
She stayed home with Gyda, keeping her axe and shield nearby at all times in fear of the monster coming for her daughter again. Gyda was not safe, she knew that much.
An idea formed in her mind, and she sprinted toward her chest. Pulling out all the things she saw necessary, she emptied almost half of its content. Tunics, trousers, mittens, furs, anything.
At the bottom of her chest, was a leather bag she now used to pack everything into. Gyda's curious, questioning gaze was left unnoticed by Ingvild, for she was in a hurry. Hurry to pack, hurry to leave, hurry to save her baby girl.
"Mother?" Gyda's weak voice said. Lifting her upper body from the bed and resting on her arms, she waited for her mother to respond, in vain. "Mother, what are you doing?"
Ingvild ignored her daughter's questions, and instead lunged for Gyda's chest next. Again, everything she saw necessary, was pulled out and stuffed in to another bag similar to her's. Then, she took their winter clothes from near the door and brought them on to Gyda's bed.
"Get dressed. We need to leave," was all she said, and began to gather food in to another bag. Meat, bread and boiled leather bottles filled with water to last them for a few days. Hopefully, enough for them to reach their destination.
Now, turning around to face her broken child, she saw she had not done what she asked. "Gyda, there is no time! I said, get dressed!"
Gyda snapped in to action, still confused as ever, but obedient non the less. Covering herself with the thick wool-knitted coat and throwing a fur cape on top, as well as tying her boots with a leather sting, she was ready. Taking the bags her mother gave for her to carry, she placed them on her back, and they left.
In the dead of the night, the mother and daughter cautiously made their way to the outskirts of their town. None had seen them so far, and they could only hope to be left unnoticed for the remainder of their escape as well.
Steps, light as a feather so none would hear them, no words, only signs with their hands so none could detect them. Gyda was terrified of what would happen to not only her, but to her mother as well, if they were discovered.
The Jarl would probably give Gyda to his most trusted guards, before making her watch how he tortured her mother and killed her. The mere thought of such a cruelty brought another set of tears to stream down her face. Get it together, Gyda! She scolded herself.
They had to hide only twice, since the nightly patrol made their rounds and would have seen them unless they found a hideout. Ingvild was smart, and pulled her daughter in to the nearby water tank, which was luckily empty with only a little layer of ice at the bottom. She herself lunged for the stack of hay and pulled some on top of herself.
Once the patrol had passed them, they waited for a while longer before continuing their journey. Soon, they reached the treeline, and kept going.
An hour in to their trek, and they let out a sigh of relief. They had succeeded in getting out, but now their mission was to reach the Thurizas territory. Invild let her shoulder fall.
"We can not rest yet. We must keep going," she said, and so they did.
