Bloodmoon

Part 2

Without even opening her eyes, she could feel the heaviness in the air. There was a lack of reverberation, telling her there was another person there... watching her. Opening her eyes to the solid wall, Lofn new it was Ivar, sitting somewhere beyond view, raking his eyes up and down her folded wings. She could sense, by the tiny transparent hair on the back of her neck, that he wanted, desperately, to reach forward and run his hands along her black feathers.

"Four nights I have been in this room and the healer is still more interested in prodding my wings than changing my dressings. Do not tell me, you too, have no restraint." Shifting her head, she glanced over her shoulder toward a wide-eyed Ivar. His brilliant blues cutting through the dim light of the room.

"I have never been accused of showing restraint," he replied. Opening his mouth again, he hesitated, a flicker passing through his expression.

Feeling exposed with a stranger at her back, she pushed her elbows into the mattress to turn and face him, wincing as she adjusted, pulling her wings flush to the wall.

"You are being a bad girl. The healer said you are not a compliant patient."

His voice was raspier than she expected. Smug, with a slight cynical tone and smooth cadence.

"I should have held my tongue until after she cut out my stitches. The old hag does not have a delicate touch.

"Are you in pain?" Ivar asked sounding surprisingly sincere. But looking up at his face, she saw no hint of shame or regret for putting his arrow in her.

"As much from lying cramped in this bed than the other." She motioned with her head indicating her shoulder. "Are you here to apologize?"

"No!" he scoffed, his eyes darting around the room before he narrowed his focus on her again. "Why would I apologize? I returned from hunting to find someone like you," he jerked his head, eyes dropping to her partially concealed wings, "above my mother...wielding a knife." Air rushed through his nostrils. "I thought you were taking her to her death."

"If I was, your bow would not have stopped me," she said flatly. Glancing down to her front, she pulled the sheet up to cover her chest, suddenly aware she was in only a thin shift. "So, no apology," she sighed.

Clearing his throat, he shifted in his chair. "I may have overreacted. I am feeling fine now." Lifting his chin, he fluttered his eyelids, arrogance, she noted his obvious defense.

"I need to get out of here," she looked back to him. "I need room to stretch. I cannot be confined and folded up like this."

"Will you tell me why you are here if I help you?"

"I need to move!" she rushed, her eyes widening in frustration "I need to use my wings. Your shot has unquestionably affected my strength and I need to know the extent of this injury."

Saying nothing, he studied the visible parts of her wings.

"Are you going to help me? I would prefer not to run into any of your guards."

Eyes fixed on her, he remained silent, continuing to scan her features.

"Ivar!" she called. "Do you know what the Gods do with flightless angels?"

His eyes grew wide and he sat upright in his chair. "So, what Mother said about you is correct... Lofn?" his voice hung on her name. "What you told her yesterday? You were sent by Odin to avenge Ragnar." His voice dropped to a quiet tone, "As he truly was a descendant."

"That is for the adults to discuss... Ivar," she chimed back, looking toward the ceiling.

"Pffft," he rolled his eyes. "You cannot be any older than me," he sneered.