I tensed, ready to run across the yard to scoop Little Worm up and run.Olaf became immobile, watching the rabbit fly towards her tiny outstretched hand.
She grasped it and immediately brought it to her mouth.Olaf broke from his trance and picked her up with a whoop.‘I knew it!’
She continued to munch on the rabbit, unfazed by Olaf’s antics.
‘What is all this about then?’Esma appeared with a basket of washing propped on her hip.
‘Just excited for tomorrow!’Olaf grinned, cradling Little Worm to his chest.
Esma moved to the washing line, humming as she worked.
I strained my ears to hear Olaf as he whispered to Little Worm.‘You must be careful.’Olaf’s brows drew together.‘Never let others see what you can do.’
†
I watched from the back of the crowd that had gathered for Little Worm’s name day.I had stolen my disguise – a hooded cloak and a walking stick – from a house in the village.
I promised myself that after today I would go, though I didn’t know where.I had no memory of where I had been all these years – the last home I remember was my parents’.But I knew it was time to leave Little Worm with her new family.
Esma’s soft voice flittered over the waiting villagers.‘While my other children wait for me in the underworld, the gods have answered my prayers and given me a child to love in this world too.’She whispered into Little Worm’s tiny pink ear before addressing her friends and neighbours again.‘The name I give her means love and grace.’
Little Worm’s smoky grey eyes remained wide and curious as she stared at Esma.If she had cried, Esma would have chosen another name for her to approve.
‘I wish to give our child a name that means kindness and strength,’ Olaf declared loudly.He leaned over Esma’s shoulder, ensuring he had the infant’s attention.‘Esma,’ he said, softly.
Tears ran down Esma’s cheeks as Little Worm gifted Olaf a sweet, gummy smile.Olaf hugged them both tightly and shouted joyfully to the waiting crowd.
‘Come meet our daughter, Caris Esma Ironside!’
†
The hot days and even hotter nights in the south had grown on me.I began a new life on the other side of Red River as a blacksmith, just like my father would have wanted.Using the king’s gold, I had a forge and a cabin built on the dry riverbank.It was quiet, and the work was slow.Gradually, as my memories faded and I became forgetful, I began to appreciate my simple life, although the loneliness that crept in year after year persisted as I remained unmarried and childless.I wondered what was left.
‘Help me!Help me!’
I woke to the dark, disoriented, with the echo of a child’s desperate voice filling my head.Leaping from bed, I dressed quickly.I fetched my armour and sword, unsure if I would need to fight.The life I had built here as a Red River blacksmith had no cause for me to wield a sword.I had to hope that the strength I had maintained over the years would compensate for any weaknesses I might have in my long-unused combat skills.
As I grabbed my helmet, a dark thought made me pause.What if this was my illness?My deteriorating mind playing a cruel joke on me?I shook off the question, unable to ignore a cry for help.
Although timeworn, my stallion navigated the darkness well.Grey eyes flashed in my mind, and then nothing – no more calls for help, nothing further to guide me.
Movement high in the trees caught my attention.At first, I believed I saw a woman shrouded in shadows.I closed my eyes tightly, opened them, and searched the trees again.
Golden orbs broke the darkness – an owl.Its perch shook as the enormous bird launched into the air and then rested a few trees ahead of me.It swiveled its darkly feathered head backwards and blinked.I rode forward, and the owl took to the air again, landing further down the tree line.It was leading me south.
The owl led us miles from home, and I began to worry again that this was all in my mind.Hours passed, and the sky began to lighten.
Dawn was almost here, and the owl was gone – vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
Waiting on the riverbank, I saw that a tree had fallen into the river, its twisted roots exposed as though it had grown too old and weary to hold on to the dry, accursed earth below it.
The river’s high waters had washed something against the semi-submerged tree.
Not something.
Someone.
I leaped from my horse and waded into the river.This was the only time of year the river was high, not that it helped the plant life struggling to survive on its tainted banks.
