The slight breeze stirred the small hairs around her face and the dappled sun warmed her cheeks. Asta breathed in the fresh air, she hadn't realised how much she had missed it.
She turned back to look at the dwarf tunnels one last time and found herself looking at a patch of bramble on the hillside, no sign of the archway she had just walked through.
Asta turned away, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.
She made her way down to the bottom of the valley floor. The forest was thicker and greener here than back home and the trees were slightly different. Soft moss cushioned her footsteps as she descended.
At the bottom of the valley she found a stream, just as Snorri had described. She set her satchel down and dipped her hands in to take a drink. The water was cool and fresh. After scanning the surrounding valley to make sure she was alone Asta stripped off her clothing and slid into the water.
She gasped with the cold. The stream was so icy it had probably found its way straight down from the top of a mountain. She quickly scrubbed at herself then ducked her head underwater and climbed back out again. She dried herself roughly with her cloak and put her clothes back on. As much as she hated the cold, it was a welcome feeling to be free of the accumulated sweat and dirt from the tunnels.
She found a rock to sit on and sat down in the sun, combing out her wet hair with her fingers then plaiting the thick golden locks down her back. She was still amazed at how much like real hair it felt, if she didn't know the truth herself she wouldn't have been able to tell.
Clean and dry, she decided to head off again, following the river as Snorri had instructed.
The river meandered gently through the valley, cradled on either side by forested hills. When night fell Asta stopped and set up a tent just up from the riverbank.
She lit a fire and made a stew using the provisions the dwarves had given her and some potherb she had foraged along the way.
As Asta ate her meal she watched the sparks from the fire leap into the air like birds freed from a cage, flying towards the forest canopy and the dark sky beyond.
She wished Signy could be here to share this moment with her. How many times had they daydreamed together of being able to live and do as they wished like this?
~ ~ ~ ~
Asta followed the stream along two more valleys. When she reached the crest at the end of the third valley, instead of another forested valley she found cleared fields and a small settlement nestled on top of a rise. Smoke rose from the settlement's longhouses into the air.
Asta hesitated at the top of the valley. She could try to continue past, but at some point she would have to meet other people.
She had whiled away the time in the tunnels by making up a backstory for herself. Esja Valisdottir came from northwestern Norgard she had decided. The Northwest received the worst of the raids from Eygard, Norgard's island neighbour. Esja's entire family and freehold had been killed in a raid and Esja had only survived because she was out in the woods collecting berries. To explain her exotic looks she had also decided that Esja's mother had not been a Norgarder. She had been brought home from a foreign land by Esja's father as a wife. Esja's reason for travelling south was to find her mother's people.
Asta went over her story one more time and stepped down into the valley.
As she was crossing the fields a thrall woman working in a vegetable patch stood up and noticed her. The woman stared at Asta for a moment then hurried up the hill to the freehold.
YOU ARE READING
The Language of Fire
Fantasy'Signy gasped as she saw the body on the ground. 'Asta, what did you do?' 'It was an accident,' Asta said desperately. 'The fire flared suddenly and his clothes caught alight. It wasn't me.' Signy stared at Hafgrim's charred body. 'They won't belie...
