Following Our Own Script

Chapter Four

Chapter Four: I'd Hope That if I Found the Strength to Walk Out, You'd Stay the Hell Out of My Way

They had found a cave on the edge of the island. Huginn got comfortable while the two hobbled to collect firewood. Everything was soaked. They'd need to dry the wood before it could light. But getting what they needed and getting out of said rain was first priority.

Huginn, continuing to go above and beyond, had managed to snag a handful of fish. The raven was putting the Gods to shame.

Loki threw the wood down and immediately collapsed. He laid, sprawled out on the cave floor. Heimdall kicked him on the way in, tossing his pile of sticks into the middle of the room.

"No resting yet, sunshine. Your turn to be useful."

Loki groaned. He peeled his head off the ground. "I fell off a dragon. Surviving that fall hurt way less than this."

In their time between lying on the rocks and swimming to shore, Loki had healed most of his wounds. His skin was still riddled with cuts and laced with bruises, but all the bleeding had stopped.

Heimdall wasn't so lucky. Turns out, when you never get hurt, you have no reason to learn how to heal. Frigg had fixed him up after his battle with Kratos. Her doctoring wasn't perfect, but the fact that she healed him at all was unexpected. He saw the version of himself she wished to have returned. Him as a child, playing in her garden. A carefree infant. The moment Heimdall began to sour, she rejected him. Frigg played it as though he became evil, but the reality was, he was finding himself and she didn't like that version. She shut him out first. She abandoned him.

Every good act that group did was for their own redemption. Heimdall saw through it all.

Heimdall wiped the blood from his hands best he could. He gritted his teeth through the pain, trying to drown it out by focusing on the rainfall. Loki didn't seem to notice his discomfort. He was taking his sweet time drying the logs. They had managed to find some buried under bushes. Not that it helped much with the ground being saturated. Eventually, they got a fire started. It was mostly smoke until the heat grew.

The two stripped down to their undergarments. Loki made a makeshift drying rack from sticks. Heimdall sat as close to the fire as he could without getting burnt. The little clothing they kept on wouldn't take long to dry.

Even after all of that, Loki's bag somehow made the journey. All of it was soaked, but the bag hadn't torn apart. Even the compass had survived.

Loki flapped his journal a safe distance from the fire, trying to dry it out. The book itself was still intact but most of its contents were ruined.
"You still haven't thanked me," Heimdall said, roasting the fish over the flames.

"Oh, right." Loki paused. "What happened, exactly? How'd we make it to shore?"

"We wouldn't have it if it weren't for yours truly."

Huginn squawked.

"Quiet, you. You'll have your moment." Heimdall tossed Huginn a chunk of fish. This satisfied the bird.

"After you so gracefully mashed your head into the reminisce of our ship, you blacked out. Asgard's hellfire, brought down by a whack to the forehead."

Loki rolled his eyes but didn't interrupt. Heimdall could see he was equally annoyed at himself for failing so miserably as he was at Heimdall's retelling.

"Would have taken us both down if I hadn't reacted as I did. Somehow, you managed to tangle yourself up in the heavier debris. You couldn't have sabotaged us any worse. Truly, you take my breath away with your shortcomings."