Big Dog [ONC 2022]

10

With Stigr mentioning the 'Big Dog' her mind returned to what had happened. Or what she thought had happened. Now, here with her children, the idea of seeing the wolf, Fenrir, seemed more like a dream. Yet, when she had kneeled before the beast, it had felt as though the real world was the dream. She hoped that what she had experienced was a dream.

"Children. What happened when I left the house?" She looked at the time, displayed on the tv news channel. That couldn't be the right time. "How long was I gone?"

"You weren't. Gone, I mean." Stigr released her waist and jumped onto the settee, settling down with his legs curled beneath him. He fiddled with a lock of his hair. "You just sort of stood there and then turned around. It looked like you'd forgotten something."

"I thought you just needed to take a breath." Hertha moved to stand behind the end of the sofa, where Stigr sat, and pinched her brother's arm. "He wanted to rush out after you, but I told him, sometimes we women just need to be alone."

That made Runa smile. Of course Hertha would think of herself more as a woman than as a child. Then she felt a tense twinge in her stomach. Her father had always said to her that he needed to tell her the stories of the North before she reached adulthood, and not the arbitrary number assigned by governments, but the age chosen by the body. That memory felt significant.

Her father had said many things. She had loved him, of course, but she had never taken to learning of the old ways. She could recite the Eddas by heart. Knew that Fenrir's sons, Sköll and Hati were to devour the Sun and the stars before Fenrir became loosed from his bindings. All of this she had memorised and rejected after growing up, but her father had said it did not matter. She had learned as a child, and she would remember, for the minds of children fare better at believing in the gods.

He had said that so many times. She learnt as a child, so she would remember and believe as a child. As her children did now. Yet Runa had only told the old tales to her children in passing. Myths to relate to them in order to help them sleep more soundly. She had never impressed upon them how important the old tales were because she no longer believed in them.

In truth, she wasn't entirely certain she believed any of it now. Yet she still felt something lingering. Final words spoken by the god-wolf, Fenrir, before she found herself back at the cottage. That the gods felt their time had come. That the last belief had prompted the beginning of the end.

"Mummy? Are you alright?" Both Stigr and Hertha stared at her and Stigr scowled in worry. "You're just standing there."

"You must be cold." Hertha moved back towards Runa, reaching up to remove her wet coat and then carrying it to the hallway, to hang on a peg. "I'm going to make you a hot tea."

She disappeared toward the kitchen, taking the role of the mother and a thought caught Runa's breath. They believed in the 'Big Dog', in Fenrir, but they knew next to nothing about the significance of the god-wolf. And Hertha, bordering adulthood, would soon grow beyond those beliefs. Or, at least, the growing beyond the age to hear those old tales and take them to heart.

If Fenrir was real, if Ragnarök truly was upon them, could the prospect of that lack of belief be the reason? She didn't want to believe it. She had spent almost her entire adult life trying to forget those old beliefs, trying to immerse herself in science and logic and rationality. She had pushed aside the old stories and that had pained her father to his dying day.

"Stigr, you can play your game, if you wish." She looked at the tv screen, the news headlines detailing more and more chaos around the Earth. "At least it will get the news off the screen, eh? I'm ... I'm going to look for something in my office."

Stigr practically jumped from the sofa, reaching towards his console before she had even stopped talking. She knew she should still feel like punishing him, but she no longer had the heart for it. Right now, she needed to consult books that she had carried around with her her entire life. Books she had never had the strength to throw away. Books her father had given her as a child.

Her office, little more than a large cupboard on the other side of the hallway, contained towers of boxes. Within those boxes, she had far more things than she had space to put them. At a later date, she intended converting one of the remaining, run-down outhouses into a proper office. Now, she wasn't certain she would have the time to do so.

She began to tear open the boxes, searching for the one that contained the books she needed. Box after box, she failed to find them, and began to panic, moving faster and faster between each box. There were course materials, books on the subjects of her classes, two old laptops that she still kept, even though she had transferred all the data onto newer devices and onto a cloud drive. Everything, but those books.

"Are you looking for something, mummy?" Hertha surprised Runa. She stood at the doorway, holding a mug of steaming tea. "Can I help?"

Half-in and half-out of one box, Runa turned towards her daughter and she knew the frown that haunted Hertha's face mirrored her own. She tried to relax and smile. Taking the mug from Hertha's hands, she noticed that her daughter had made it perfectly. Very hot, dark, with only the tiniest splash of milk. Just how she liked it.

She gathered Hertha up, casting an arm around her daughter's shoulder and looked into Hertha's eyes. Her father's eyes, though her long, straight blonde hair and proud, heroic nose were all from Runa's side of the family. Stigr went the other way, with the dark, wavy hair of his father, but with bright blue eyes like Runa's.

Hertha looked like an adult, almost. Almost as tall as Runa herself, Hertha had started to lose the puppy-like chubbiness in her cheeks, revealing high, proud cheekbones. She was pretty, but would soon be a beauty. Had she reached adulthood yet, though? Runa hadn't checked, but she didn't think Hertha had started using her sanitary products yet and she hadn't mentioned anything. No signs of cramps or sudden changes of personality. Perhaps there was still time?

"Of course you can help." Runa moved aside to the next tower of boxes, pointing at the remaining boxes she had not checked. "Do you remember those very old books? The ones I said Grandfather gave me? That's what we're looking for."

"Okay." Hertha peered into the box before her and Runa wondered if she were doing something foolish, getting ready to fill her children's heads with nonsense.

Then she heard the crack of thunder outside as the storm continued its circumnavigation of the island and she thought again of what she had experienced. She didn't want to believe in the gods, or Fenrir, or Ragnarök, but she knew what she had felt. She had felt Fenrir's breath on her face and it was as real as anything she had ever experienced and, if she could do anything to prevent the end of all things, she would try.

Her children deserved a long life, not one brought short by the militaristic whims of immortals.