“Yggdrasil,” I whisper under my breath.
“Yggdrasil, she said,” wails the old crone.
“We will never escape our beautiful Wodnaz,” says the teenager with a grin.
Verthandi, her gaze unmoving, speaks firmly.
“The ash tree’s pain cannot be carried by men. Its true name is forgotten, because Odin the terrifying rides our horse—it’s the only thing humans speak of.”
“They will keep doing it forever,” says Skuld happily.
“They have been doing it forever,” concludes Urd.
“Because Odin offers his life only to Odin,” nods Verthandi.
“He might offer his life to me,” giggles Skuld. “Then he could ride me too.”
“Insolent child,” barks Urd. “You have already tried to charm him.”
“Dusty bitch!” shouts Skuld.
“Horny pup!” replies Urd.
“Sisters, enough now!” reprimands Verthandi. “Forgive us, Kilda, we don’t get many visitors.”
“We have been working so much,” says Urd.
“We have so much work to do,” says Skuld.
“They speak the truth,” says Verthandi. “We are so busy, so busy.”
“She will ask a question,” squeals Skuld with pleasure.
“I haven’t seen you so happy since Odin came to visit,” teases Urd.
“Wodnaz is still searching,” concludes Verthandi. “But now Kilda searches too. Ask, young one.”
My eyes shift between them. I have no choice. My lips move without my command. Without my will.
“You see who I have been, who I am, and who I will be,” I say.
The ladies answer in unison, perfect harmony.
“We do. It is decided.”
More words come bubbling from the depths. But I refuse. This is a dream. I have to wake up. I try to shake my head. I need control. I am no one’s slave. Not Sigurd’s, not Vidar’s, not Odin’s. I am not the slave of these three crazy women. Carving to no end.
Fire builds in my chest—waves crash against the cliff. I rip myself out of the chains. I am Kilda. I will stand.
“What’s…” I struggle to speak, fighting to formulate. Resisting the urge to swim with the flow of water, to carve with the grain.
“Never been done…” mutters Urd.
“She won’t do it…” mumbles Skuld.
This sensation has to be released. A deep growl escapes my throat as I force my own voice to shine through the murky waters. My blade cuts through. My fire burns the forest.
“What’s the fucking point then?” I scream at them.
