Norse Code: Thor's Daughter

Chapter Twenty-One

My thoughts were everywhere as I ran. Before I could fully comprehend one thought, another one was creeping in. "How much time did I have before they realized I was gone?", "What if they find me only to send me away because I couldn't control my powers?", "How mad is my Dad?", "Did Loki know?". My breath became more and more ragged the further I trekked. I finally slowed myself to a walk as defeated sobs racked my chest. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I had never felt more alone in my entire life.

I felt a gentle poking in my head behind my tear-soaked eyes. Instinctively, I knew it was my Uncle trying to use our mind connection to check in on me. As much as it pained me to do so, I pushed his mental presence away, trying to hide my feelings of despair behind an impenetrable wall. My emotions would only make him more worried and determined. Instead, I shoved all my anger at my own shortcomings at him. The more he thought I was angry with him, the less likely he was to push the connection. As his gentle touch echoed through my mind again, it hit a blockade of white-hot anger. Sure enough, I felt the connection fall back into the recesses of my mind. I couldn't hide my disappointment.

Judging by where the sun sat in the sky, I had about three hours to find shelter before the dark and the cold closed in. I didn't necessarily want to head straight into town, as I was sure that was where they would look for me first. With Tony's access to security networks and law enforcement, I knew I would be safest away from any technology or human interaction. When I first arrived at the Avenger's new facility, I rode with Steve on the back of his Harley. I loved every second of it, and my eyes were glued to the lush scenery surrounding the compound. Faintly, I remembered a sign directing the turn off for a campground. I knew I wasn't too far away from the campground, less than a dozen miles. I was fairly sure I had covered at least three miles in my hectic escape. If I kept a decent pace where I wouldn't wear myself out too quickly, I might be able to make it to the campground before dark. Quickly doing the math, I figured I needed to cover three miles an hour to make it on time. On average, a person could walk a mile in twenty minutes at a moderate pace, so I knew I was in good shape to make the campground before nightfall, if I didn't get lost. That was big if. My hope was that the campground was large enough that if I walked in its general direction, I would stumble upon it at some point.

All the math and calculations were good. It kept my mind busy. Busy, so I wasn't able to dwell on everything I was leaving behind. The laughter, the love, the feeling of finally being able to belong somewhere. Until my powers came, until I realized that I didn't belong. That I wouldn't belong anywhere. I was meant to be an outcast, a nomad without a home, without a tribe. Doubt is good friends with despair, and I was feeling both now. I had a taste of everything I had ever wanted, a family who helped take the weight from my shoulders, family who let me know I wouldn't have to do everything alone. But I saw the truth now, I was my own worst enemy. Control was something I always strived for but was never able to have. Self-destruction was my master. Is this how Loki felt? Alone because of his own actions, cast off, away from everything he ever loved? All because of heritage he didn't even know? Ancestry that tainted his blood?

At the thought of Loki, I once again felt a tentative push against my mind. I shoved my wall of anger up again, but this time I couldn't withhold the taste of sorrow from its mix. I could only hope Loki would feel the anger and stop prodding, restrain himself from looking any further. If he reached out, I don't know that I would be able to keep myself from letting everything lose. Be the girl from that song that cried a river to drown the whole world. My hands shook with the effort of keeping those emotions at bay.

A few hours had passed, and I still hadn't found the campground yet. I stumbled across a shallow creek, which I waded in to hopefully cover my tracks. I knew they would still be out looking for me, darkness no match for their abilities. I had a few close calls in the beginning, where I swore up and down they were right on my heels. But as I strayed further from civilization, those close calls became few and far between. I felt relieved as their presence seemed to drift further away, but also a deep sense of loneliness. I felt I was truly on my own now. As the moon crept higher into the sky, I could feel my body demanding rest. Every inch was sore, and I had dozens of cuts and scratches from my reckless plunge through the underbrush. My feet stung with blisters as I continued to put one in front of the other. Finally, when I was about to give up hope, I came across a clearing. In the dark I could just barely make out the glint of the moon across hazy glass. A dilapidated little cabin sat at the end of the clearing, obviously abandoned. To me, it looked like a fairy tale mansion hidden in the trees. The oasis in the middle of the desert. Or the cottage of a witch awaiting its Hansel or Gretel.

Seeing as I had no other options, I shoved that last description away and steadily made my way towards the cabin. I cautiously looked in all the windows before I made entry. The cabin was simple, a one room design with a living area with a wood stove to the right of the door as you walk in, and a table and two chairs to the left. The back wall held a counter with open faced shelves above it. The shelves were lined with glass mason jars of canned peaches and green beans, beets and potatoes. At the right end of the kitchen a wooden ladder lead up to a loft where the edge of an old cot could be seen poking over the ledge. Everything inside was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the only tracks I saw were animal. I was fairly sure no one had been inside the cabin for years.

I bypassed the wood stove, not willing to risk my discovery by making a fire. I also bypassed the jars of food, those could be better inspected in the morning, where I could make sure they were still sealed and look for canning dates. I instead climbed straight up the wood ladder into the loft. Gleefully, I noticed a trunk pushed up against the wall in the back, and upon opening it I found piles of old quilts, still in good shape. They would be perfect to burrow into for the night. I dumped my backpack beside the cot and rummaged through its contents. I settled on a protein bar and a bottle of water for dinner, still trying to ration what I had until I could further assess the canned goods. Tiredly, I looked around the small cabin. I noticed built in bookshelves on the wall by the door, still filled with cloth-bound novels. With a sigh I let a small smile cross my lips. In different circumstances, I would be overjoyed to be in a place like this. But for now, I told myself not to get attached. No matter how comfortable and safe I felt here, I would need to move on eventually. Sooner rather than later.