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Tyr grinned. “Maybe.”
My eyes darted away, looking for something to help turn this conversation to something else—anything else. My gaze landed on the axe.That’ll do it.
I lifted the tool into my hands, noting its heft. This wasn’t one of ours. The axe had a black head, like obsidian, and a well-crafted wooden haft. Silver inlays swirled and cut in an intricate design along the head. My pulse slowed, and I traced a finger along the design. Something about this axe felt… familiar.
My fingers trailed down to the engraving on the haft. A tingling sensation spread from my fingertips through my hand and up my arm into my chest. Something… powerful and… comfortable—making me more whole.
“Do you like it?” Tyr asked.
“I do,” I mumbled. “I’ve never seen an axe like this in person before.”
“It’s a family heirloom.”
Family heirloom…Why did that meaning stick with me? Maybe because that meant this wasn’t intended for chopping wood.
I glanced at him. “Why did you bring it out?”
“Tradition for me. Since I can’t use it the way it had been in the past, I give it a good first swing when I do a log-splitting job.”
I liked that tradition. Maybe it wasn’t what his ancestors intended, but they would have never predicted how their children would have to adapt to an ever-changing world.
I set the axe down and grabbed the right one for Tyr to use. He thanked me and set up to split the logs. I sat down to watch. It would be wise for me to go and find something else to do, but I was enjoying getting to know this man.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you yesterday, but if you become a long-term resident, feel free to invite any friends or family you might have to visit. We want to make sure our residents still feel connected with their loved ones. We just ask that if they use any of our resources, they help replenish them before they leave.”
Tyr paused for a moment and then slammed down on a log. “No need to worry about that. No family or friends to really contact.”
“Do you want to share on that?”
He shrugged. “Not much to say. Family fell apart a long time ago, and in my nomadic ways, I ended up losing contact with most of my friends. I doubt if I contacted them now, they’d want to hear from me.”
I kept my expression neutral. It wasn’t an uncommon response from residents. But, by the time they were ready to leave, many of them found the strength to rekindle past relationships that would still be healthy for them. I hoped the same for Tyr.
“I noticed your tattoos don’t have any typical imagery related to Odin or Thor, why is that?” Why had my brain gone back to the tattoos? We were done with that conversation.
Tyr split another log. “Because they’re assholes.”
My brow rose.He said that like he knows them.“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Everyone worships them like they’re gods who were perfect. But they were far from it. They caused all kinds of problems for other gods and mortals, all because of various prophecies that had been told in days of old.”
I squinted. “You say that like you were there.”
Tyr rested the axe on his shoulder and glanced back at me, grinning. “My name is Tyr.” He held up his arm. “And I am missing a hand. Who’s to say I’m not the god from myth?”
I stared at him, unsure how to react to the claim.
Something pulsed deep within me, and for a moment, his form changed—to a tall, proud warrior in modified Norse armor, and long braided hair. I blinked, and the visage was gone.I’m going crazy.
“Most would say that’s a coincidence, like that tattoo of yours.”
Tyr watched me carefully. “Do you agree?”
“My father would say there’s no such thing as a coincidence.” I shook my head. “But he’d also say there’s truth to all myths.”
Tyr’s head tilted. “You don’t believe him?”
My brow scrunched. “Say gods exist, or they’re based on real people who existed at one time, you want me to believe a god like Loki turned into a female horse and fucked a stallion, got pregnant, and gave birth to a seven-legged horse?”
