Odin's Prize

Choke

When walking to Morvared's house, the pathway is spongy with all the rain that spring time brings. The buds on the trees are unfurrowing. Birds are starting to nest high in the trees. Spring has arrived officially in the Far North.

Morvared and another healer that I haven't been introduced to are outside by a small fire having tea. The grey smoke wisps upward until a grasp of wind catches hold and takes it away.

"Charlie, grab some tea from the house, come sit with us by the fire." An empty chair is beside Moravred the other healer has her nose lifted up pulling in great lungfuls of air inwards. Eyes are flashing black before settling back to brown.

Going into the house, sniffing the tea before pouring it into my cup. Tasting it, nothing bitter that assaults my taste buds. Seeing if this tea holds an experiment.

Sitting down with the healers the crow caws a hello to me and I nod my head to it.

"I can't stay all day, Morvared. I need to get home for dinner. I've been missing too many dinners at home." The healers both sip their tea looking at one another.

"No problem Charlie. We were just going to go foraging today, not far from here. This is Era."

"Hello Era, nice to meet you."

"Charlie." She's not as old as Morvared, but she's not young either. A few streaks of grey are in contrast to the blackness of her hair.

When our tea is finished, I follow behind the two females into the forest, the sun's out, and I'm happy I decided to bring my leather satchel with me. They each have their satchels that look worn with real age.

Morvared keeps within arms reach of Era, every time she tries to stray in my path Morvared angles her away. They keep whispering together. The crow caws back to them sometimes, especially when I go for the different looking mushrooms that grow in the rotten logs that litter the forest.

They start to teach me about the plants they are looking for, what the stem is useful for, that when the leaves have been dried, can be steeped in boiling water that produces an anti-anxiety feeling.

At times throughout the day, a brief touch of my skin is felt before that feeling quickly fades away. Looking around for Odin, I never see him. He's hidden within the Nature of the forest.

By the time our satchels are full, the first deepening shadow starts to darken the forest. The day has slipped by, and now I realize that I forgot to get back early, so I didn't miss dinner again.

A slight rain starts on my walk home, the wind picking up, tossing my hair into a knotted mess. When entering the house, Odin's not there, but a plate of food sits at the table with a fork beside it.

For some reason I thought that he would be here when I returned home, he's not.

The next morning repeats itself. Breakfast alone, when walking towards the Longhouse everyone is now outside. The ants still hold their fading bruises from yesterday; mine has cleared up already.

Odin is carrying several bundles of shingles on his shoulders, both hands holding the piles stable while he walks up the ladder without hands. He's fast without the need even to see where his feet are placed, just going up as if they are any ordinary stairs. Dropping the bundles down, he jumps down from the roof, to grab more bundles while Ryeson starts hammering the tiles in place. No other males are helping them.

Both males look to be working hard, shirts off. Odin's canvas of art is deceptive. It hides the fine musculature of him. Ryeson's skin has numerous tattoos, but nothing can compare to how Odin's body has been etched.