REM

Asgard

I don't know how much time I have. Something, or someone is following me; I can feel it. As dense as this forest may look on the outside, there is not much cover: most trees are thin, dying, dead, or fallen.

Stumbling my way along the dirt path, leaves strewn across in gathered patches, I hate the thought of being followed once again for what I possess. A shattered – broken –sword hidden under my dark cloak is what has caused me trouble all these years. It didn't affect me directly until months ago when I inherited it, but now the full weight has been transferred to my shoulders.

Another look behind me, I pull back my hood so I can have full vision. I will need to use my entire line of sight, including my peripherals, if I am to avoid an attack before summoning.

Ears focused, eyes open, all I can hear is the beat of my racing heart as I listen for my follower in the forest. He, or it, doesn't seem to be close, so I draw my shattered sword, the space between each piece shrinking as the family heirloom glows.

To my knowledge, it has never been used in any battle of blood. The power it holds doesn't require one to strike a known enemy, or foe to assure victory.

Waving the crafted metal over the ground, I begin to conjure, "My stead, where art though? Asgard, come to me."

Scattered pieces of bone – some broken – begin to rise from the forest floor. The glowing skeleton of a horse is first, followed by a young dragon. After all the time I have been on the run, this will be the first time I have ever required their protection. Many years of my youth were spent climbing trees, tracking, and learning to be invisible. But this time, I can't risk being caught, especially since I am outside familiar territory.

A cloaked figure glides behind trees in the distance as flesh and muscle are assembled before my eyes, collecting in the shape of a beautiful chestnut horse with black mane. It neighs loudly on its hind legs, then stomps the ground before I mount it.

Grabbing the reins, I slot my feet into the stirrups as quickly as I can before the horse jumps into a full gallop. The gray dragon forming behind me pieces together as the hooded follower comes out into the opening where I had conjured my two protectors.

The beast, although small, roars at the figure, causing them to back away slowly. I twist to see if they will follow, but they seem deterred. Returning focus to the winding and narrow trail, I slot the sword back inside my cloak so I can lean over my quick getaway.

Before long, we are out in the open, a vast green field inviting us to choose any direction. A shadow is cast over the stead and I as the winged beast watches overhead. I was in the clear for now, but the chase was not over, it never has been. My family heirloom has been sought for centuries, so I stay on the move, trying to keep several steps ahead of those who wish to kill me for the power.