The Bird and The Wolf

FREYA

Days blurred together.

Their mother hadn’t left her bed since Alvyna had brought the news. Freya had to pick up the cooking and her mother’s sewing in the fortnight that followed. Her father was the only member of the family who went to the ceremonial fire to burn the bodies of the soldiers who fell. Gwylan refused to leave the bed, and Freya couldn’t fly to the location it was to be held near the palace.

She felt so left out. Her people had been staring at her since she was a child every time she went out in public, and nobody had thought to have the ceremony somewhere she could get to?

After Lonan got home from the ceremony, he had told Freya what had happened between the Vargar and Adaryn that led to Raga’s death.

“Alvyna told me the Vargar were seen near the border. Valkyrie were sent in to make them leave. But it was a trap. Their side had dozens of warriors, and we had only a few. The beasts came out from their hiding places in the underbrush. Even Valkyries have their limits. Your sister fought hard, and she killed a number of them. Raga gave her life swooping in front of Alvyna as a Vargar went for her throat.”

Freya was not surprised. Raga was kind. And she was in love. Of course she would have protected Alvyna.

“Eventually reinforcements arrived, and the Vargar were chased away. Raga bled to death before they could get her help.”

Freya could just imagine Alvyna doing everything she could to help Raga.

“They gave us her armor,” her father said. “I guess they don’t need it for someone else. Find somewhere to put it.”

The armor was still stained with Raga’s blood. Freya didn’t know what to do with it. She left it on Raga’s empty bed. Freya couldn’t even look at it. She pulled one of her mother’s old quilts over the bundle.

She missed her sister so much. How was she supposed to move on when the one person in the world who never saw her as a broken thing was gone forever?

She wanted to turn to her mother, but Gwylan had taken to her bed and wouldn’t speak. She refused to work and barely ate.

Freya had never seen her mother like this and was unsure of what to do to help her. Lonan was away more and more to take on extra work to make up for what her mother couldn’t accomplish.

Eventually Gwylan’s friends from the market stopped trying to visit, as she turned everyone away. She wouldn’t even look at Freya when she came into the room to check on her. Freya would leave food for her mother, and sometimes Gwylan would eat it.

Nights were spent in silence as Freya and her father ate their supper and went to bed without speaking. Sometimes he didn’t even come home for supper. She imagined he was eating at someone else’s house, or maybe working late. He couldn’t work the fields in the dark, so he must be doing something.

***

After a few weeks, Freya was beginning to feel restless. She’d do everything she could for her family, but she wasn’t sure they needed her. Aside from cooking and cleaning and doing her mother’s sewing work, what was it she could accomplish here? Girls her age should be serving, like Raga, or getting ready to run their own households and build their own families.

At the market, people stared at her as always.

“Adaryn are going to attack again. Did you hear?” This came from a woman Freya was sure she’d seen visiting her mother, but the woman didn’t even look at her or ask about her mother. She was busy talking to another woman as they stood looking at fabric and thread.

“Really? Why now though? They haven’t attacked like this since before my Johnny was born.”

Freya didn’t mean to eavesdrop. She needed thread. But it was true that there hadn’t been any attacks like this since before Raga and Freya were born.

“I heard,” the second woman said, “that the Council is either going to declare war or accept the loss and find some form of truce.”

The first woman laughed and nearly dropped the cream-colored thread she was examining. “They attacked us! Why should we make peace with them?”

“Do you really want more war, though?”

“We have to show them we’re strong. If we don’t, they’ll attack again.”

“And for you, miss?” The importer who dealt in thread and fabric was talking to Freya.

“Just these, please.” She handed him some of the coins she got from her mother’s customers. She wasn’t as good at sewing as her mother, but it was something she could do to help support the family.

Freya felt the eyes on her back as she walked out of the market. At least it was easy to get to, as it was built upon several wide wooden bridges in the trees nearest the palace. She could walk there and back. She almost never came here, because of how people stared at her. But with her mother in bed, and her father busy, she had to come.

The crowds going from stall to stall for fresh breads and herbs seemed to steer around Freya everywhere she went. The atmosphere felt as if touching her would cause them to lose their wings. Freya tried not to pay them any mind.

She longed for someone to ask about her family. Or maybe some friend of her sister’s might say something kind to her. But nobody would even look at Freya in the eye.

As she was leaving the market, Freya noticed a small crowd of Adaryn nobles dressed in their colorful finery. She’d never even sewn with the brightly colored fabrics and threads they wore. The orange and red dyes were too expensive for commoners.

Two men in the group wore the golden six-winged pendant that identified them as members of the Council. One of them pointed to her, and the other council member looked her way.

Of course they would have to have their turn staring. She wanted to shout that it wasn’t contagious. She tried to ignore them.

Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder, pulling her away from the opposite direction of the Councilmen. The grip was firm but gentle.

Freya recognized the scent of Raga’s berry-wine. She turned her head to see Commander Alvyna Leif. “Oh,” she said. She was too surprised to say hello.

The warrior was wearing the full set of Valkyrie armor in the middle of the market, including the winged helm that made her appear so much taller.

“Come with me a moment.”