The trail ahead.

The first couple of days, I pouted. I laid in the wagon, just feeding slices of jerky to Alvis. I think after the second day he was pretty sick of it himself. He would sit on the platform with Tunnuk, my brothers best friend. Shameful, even Alvis was sick of my self inflected misery. Within a hand I had yet to see Big Red, who was clearly making the most out of the time in her wagon. Hopefully a child would be here soon and it would be a boy, so I could return home. I have never debated the fact people called me self centered. Because, I was. I admit it. Good thing its my right to be. I was bored. There was only water right now to wash with a rep cloth and heated at a cauldron over makeshift fires at night. I wanted a bath. A long hot soak. I wanted my hair washed. I wanted my hands rubbed, and my feet oiled. The closer South we got, the hotter it was getting. Even on beautiful warm days of the North, there was still a crisp cool morning breeze. I loved to get up and watch the light just demand its power across the land and no one or thing could stop the will of the Sky, though the water would show its power also in reflecting it right back.

Okay I'm bored.

Odin never traveled by wagon. Stupid lying foolish Merchant. I can't say I liked wagons all that much. Of course this is a first time for me, beyond just riding down stone paths with a bosk pulling cart fulls of hay, harvested ta sarna, and vegetables. We had fruit trees and bushes too. The Merchant had a little fit over me bringing a peach tree, how foolish he is. He should be singing praise that I would bring a peach tree I planted myself as a young girl, it gave the biggest and ripest of peaches. Not to sweet, but a smooth mellow taste, that just makes one happy. I plucked a peach off earlier, and just rolled it against my fingers. The tree was in a huge pot cause spring had just arrived and is still chilled out until summer, I kept it in the main hall. Father was very proud of me. He said I might have a nurturing bone in me yet to make a great Mistress of some hall and give a man many heirs. I felt a tear swell at the thought of my Father. I guess one really doesn't realize what they have until its gone. He taught me a lot. When I would fall, he would tell me to get up, look at my bleeding hands or knees, if I could still think, walk, and move my arms, I had everything I needed in life. Bond's would follow me around as soon as walked into the Hall, for torn dresses were a given. Often I heard I should have been a boy, I would just comment that boys didn't have the class I did. I looked at my palm, it was still just a slight bit blushed with color from the burn I got two hands ago. I was at the black smiths forge to get the dagger my Father gave me sharpened. Of course I went to see Northaniel. I will say I had a bit of a young woman's crush on him. He was his Father's apprentice. He would be taking over the Forge as his own the next season. I could handle being a blacksmiths woman. My Father wouldn't see it, but I would work on him. I had leaned over on the smelting hearth trying to strike a cute pose when Northaniel walked by. To bad I didn't judge the distance well, cause I fell right back trying to grab a handle off the side. Metal..fire..Hot. Not a good idea. So I ended up walking home with a throbbing palm wrapped in cloth and salve, a bruised ego, but I did get my dagger sharpened. After of course I let it go when I was falling and it stabbed Northaniel's Father right through the boot. Okay so it was a bit sharper then I thought it was.

The news hit my Father long before I got there, walking in the hall he had a huge grin. Our conversation was simple.

"So you got hurt?"
"Yes, Father"
"Can you think clearly?"
"Yes, Father"
"Can you walk?"
"Yes, Father, and even stand before you foolishly as I am now"
"Can you move your arms?"
"Yes, Father"
"Good, go get me some mead"
"Only if I can get some for myself Father"

With that he would chuckle and I would sit beside him. He might not care about the physical wounds I would get, but he was always tender with my bruised heart. It was those times, he would allow Blushes to get me a small mug of warmed mead, which I would just put my head on his shoulder and sip slowly. No more words were needed. Those moments meant the world to me. Now that life was over. Alvis came back in through the wagon flaps curling on my lap. I simply cried again, though my eyes wept, now and then I would smile seeing Alvis shake the droplets off his head. I told myself, no more tears. Have to be strong. Make Father proud.