Eric Bloodexe walked through the broken village as the mist started to settle. All of the rubble and destruction were now visible. He usually found this fascinating; it was the second-best part, after all.
But today he barely noticed it.
All he did was stare at the eye resting in his palm; all the way through the main path, and after exiting the main gate, he examined it with childlike curiosity.
The surface had already begun to cool, the warmth of the body fading faster than Eric expected. It should have been no different from any other trophy—meat was meat, after all—but something about this one made him slow his steps.
He turned it slightly, watching how the pale iris caught the light, how it reflected him back.
"ERIIIIC!"
A boy's voice echoed through the whole mountain.
Eric blinked, snapping out of his trance. His eyes were already dry, so he continued blinking as he looked ahead.
"Oh—hoy! How's my little poet doing?!"
Egil stood around a hundred steps away, next to his steed.
He rested his hand against the creature's side without thinking, fingers brushing warm fur as if to steady himself. The creature shifted slightly at the touch, lowering its head just enough for him to reach more comfortably.
The creature had a tall and slender build.
Its head would've been quite a bit above even Eric's, even while on all fours. Though its overall body and stature resembled that of a wolf, its face was narrow and fox-like. Its eyes emitted a soft, light-blue glow, and it had no ears at all. The fur on the head was long and white, gradually shortening and shifting to a pale blue along its body before turning nearly black at the tip of its bushy tail.
It looked kind—almost elegant.
"Is Sigurd with you?" Egil called out again.
Is this boy trying to cause an avalanche or something? Sheesh. Eric thought with a wince.
"No, he is not. Is he not there yet!?"
A hand suddenly tapped his shoulder.
"I'm here," Sigurd said coldly. "Is the boy dead?"
Eric hesitated for a moment. "Of course."
"Oh, yeah? Where is a limb then, or an organ, or something? I know you would never come back from a hunt without something to eat."
"Hehe, well…" Eric opened his palm and showed the eye to Sigurd.
Sigurd's face contorted a little. "An… eye?"
"Yeah."
"…Why?"
Eric shrugged. "I don't know. When I looked him in the eye… I just wanted to take it."
Sigurd sighed deeply. "Just when I got used to you eating people, you develop another obsession—okay, just keep it away from me."
He looked toward Egil. "Now to scold that boy," he said, then walked forward.
"Oy, Sigurd, everything went well?" Egil asked.
Sigurd said nothing until he reached him. He looked down at the boy with open anger—and disappointment.
"What?" Egil asked, confused.
"You were supposed to kill Ragnar."
"I did!" Egil protested. "I stabbed him in the back all the way through, right where the heart should be. Then I beat him and left him to bleed out."
'SMACK'
Sigurd's forehead became red after he slammed his palm into it. "Next time, make sure they are dead before you walk off."
He brushed past Egil. "Eric finished your job for you; be thankful to him—"
He stopped and glanced back. "—You've only just joined us and are already creating problems. Your youth will be an excuse only so many times."
Egil watched Sigurd walk away.
"Mmmm," sounded the creature next to him before nuzzling its head into him slightly, its tail now down.
A sharp slap hit his back.
"Don't beat yourself up about it, kid. You did well."
"Purr." The noise came from the creature as it nodded its head.
He lowered his head. "Heh… thanks, Nymora. Thanks, Eric."
Eric clapped him on the back again. "No problem, kid." He started walking and waved Egil over. "Now, let's meet up with Framy."
"Okay." Egil nodded and ran after him, with Nymora following behind at an unhurried pace.
—ᛖᚡᛖᚱᛚᚨᛋᛏᛁᚾᚷ ᚹᚨᚱ× ᚨ ᛋᚨᚷᚨ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚾᛟᚱᛏᚺ—
They soon arrived at a massive cave entrance.
It looked like a hole that had been sliced open by a giant.
Inside was a vast underground chamber, lit by glowing crystals embedded in the ceiling, walls, and floor, bathing everything in a soft blue hue. The warmth was pleasant—but the smell wasn't. Crystals may have made the place bright and warm, but the warmth also meant all the animal waste wasn't getting frozen, so it left quite a stench; couldn't be helped, though.
Hundreds of warriors filled the cavern, too. They would usually go lower into the dungeon (where it was colder) to take care of their business, but sometimes they didn't bother.
Steel rang softly as blades were sharpened against stone. Somewhere deeper within the cave, voices rose in laughter before dissolving into argument.
A bunch of beasts, just like Nymora, were all around, one or two near each carriage-like sledge. Most of them were grooming each other or lying down. A few were eating.
One snarled at the other, keeping it away from its share of meat.
They were all quite a bit smaller than Nymora.
Well, all except one.
One that stood next to the table where Sigurd was.
That one was far bigger.
"Took you long enough," said a high, cutesy voice beneath the table.
Then came some rambling before something hit the table from beneath.
'OUCH'
Out came a little girl, rubbing the crown of her head. The tip of her hair barely reached Egil's chest.
"That hurt. Ouchy."
She was dressed in clothes way too big for her—possibly too large even for Egil— along with a black fur coat and a red shirt. Her hair was dark brown and came all the way to the floor. It was tied in three braids.
And her eyes…
Well, they were pure white; she was blind after all.
"Hi, Framy." Egil waved at her.
"That's Framtida for you, mister." She pointed a finger at him. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"
Egil scratched the back of his head. "But everybody else calls you Framy."
"Hmph— well, that's everybody else, and this is you."
"Okay, okay, I won't do it again, I promise."
"You better."
She turned around toward Sigurd—though she was actually facing Eric, but nobody wanted to tell her. "What next, Siggy?"
Sigurd cleared his throat.
"We should keep moving south and try to take over Hrafnvik, Skeldal, and Varheim before we finally attack the town under Jarl Bjornulf." He paused. "Hmm, but before we go… are you certain we have no unfinished business here? Can you assure me Ragnar is dead?"
Eric stepped forward. "Yeah, of—"
"What are you worrying so much about?" Framtida cut in. "I told you. The boar and the bull will die today; whether they can confirm it or not is not important."
She spread her arms wide; the oversized fur coat followed a heartbeat too late, sleeves drooping far past her hands as if the garment itself struggled to keep up. The heavy fabric slid over her small frame, nearly eating her up as it shifted.
Eric leaned toward Egil. "For someone so small, she takes up an impressive amount of space." He whispered.
Egil nodded, "Mhm."
"My awesome power already confirmed it. They will not be alive come sunrise! Hahahaha!" Framtida exclaimed joyfully.
Sigurd sighed, "Hmm, I guess you are right…"
"Very well. Ready the lune wolves and the sledges; we are leaving as soon as Sól shows herself."
"And here I thought I would get some shut-eye," Eric murmured. "Oh well…"
—ᛖᚡᛖᚱᛚᚨᛋᛏᛁᚾᚷ ᚹᚨᚱ× ᚨ ᛋᚨᚷᚨ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚾᛟᚱᛏᚺ—
As the sun finally crested the horizon, something burst from a massive pile of snow at the foot of the mountain.
Something wet.
Something red.
It moved like a slime, never leaving the ground, leaving a dark trail behind it as it dragged itself toward the nearby stream.
Little by little.
Slowly.
Painfully.
A deer saw it and smelled the trail before running off; some birds were chirping along with the rays of the sun.
The fish scattered the moment the creature reached the water.
It put its hands into the river and pulled the water up.
Splashing its face.
Oh…
Ragnar.
He looked into the stream. His father's spear lay just beneath the clear surface. Water and steel reflected his face back at him. Quite a handsome one. Most would say. Strong features, pale skin, bright blue eyes.
Well, AN EYE now.
One was now nothing but a ruined socket, blood steadily dripping into the stream.
The second one didn't look all that bright anymore, either.
"Egil—"
"Eric—"
"—Sigurd…"
He clenched his teeth hard enough to nearly break them.
"…I will kill you."
He raised his head to the sky.
"I swear it! I swear on the name of the Allfather—"
"—I will murder all of you!"
"Rip you to shreds and feast on your insides."
"CAN YOU HEAR ME!?"
His scream tore through the mountain as he wept.
Finally, he plunged his hand into the water and seized his spear.
"And his ravens will witness me conquer the North while you roll in your graves. Your stay in the underworld will not be a joyous one."