The broom fell onto the floor with a dull thud.
After a moment, Elara’s vision cleared and she met Brielle’s uncertain stare.
“I’m fine,” Elara lied, flashing a tight smile. “A dizzy spell. I should rest.”
Brielle watched her with knowing eyes, but didn’t push, simply dipping her chin.
“Go lay down. I’ll bring you something to help with dizziness. You must take a break. No more training with Hlif for a few days. Not until you’ve regained your strength.”
Nodding, Elara passed out in the furs before Brielle returned, her body feeling as though it had run for too long and too fast.
In the morning, she sat by the fire, poking the embers with a stick, trying not to ruminate on the visions and what they meant.
Alruna sat dutifully by her side, Brielle and Leif unaware of the panther’s stoic presence in the shadows.
Leif had not left this morning as he had with all the others, whittling away on a piece of wood in the corner. Elara couldn’t help but think his presence had something to do with her. That Brielle had told her husband something was wrong with the little foreign girl.
That she was to be feared.
That maybe she had succumbed to the draugar, and they would soon be upon all of them.
And it’d be her fault.
Elara rubbed her sternum.
Njáll.
He still hadn’t come, and she’d been too stubborn to go to him.
Unknowing what to say or how to start.
She missed him. She had made a mistake.
At night, she craved to feel his arms around her, to feel the press of his lips to hers, to find common ground once more.
She could be his thorny rose.
A shadow moved in front of the fire, and Elara looked up to see Brielle standing there, a bundle of furs in her arms and a wide smile.
“Njáll came by before you were awake.” Elara’s heart leapt, a smile splitting her cheeks. “He did not wish to intrude. But he did ask me to give you this.”
Slowly, she peeled back the layers of fur.
A breath caught in Elara’s throat, and she jumped to her feet. Nestled in the swath of blankets slept a tiny, soot-grey kitten with jet black paws.
It was barely old enough to be away from its mother.
Slowly, the creature opened its eyes, and two wide irises the color of sea glass stared at her. It let out a pathetic, high-pitched mewing sound, trying to burrow deeper into the furs.
“A kitten?”
Elara reached out, stroking the velvety fur around its ears, grinning more than she had in days.
“Freyja’s blessing. They bring luck. They are sacred. The only creature as fierce as it is gentle.”
The tip of Elara’s tongue pressed against the points of her teeth, imagining Njáll picking up this little bundle to gift to her.
Something so soft and sweet, yet with teeth and claws sharp enough to draw blood.
