Bothvar Beorcolsson
The snow covers the docks. The water of the harbor is still frozen. Same with the bay and the river attached. The cold is still bitter, but the sun rises. This winter was nowhere near as long as The Longest Night, which the people have started calling that fateful winter that felt like it would never end. It’s been more than a few cycles since then. Since that winter in which I lost my beloved Arngunn, our child, Asfrid, and my brother’s son and Thorkel the summer prior. I try to imagine what Arni and Hrut’s last send-off would have been like. I wasn’t here to see it. Neither was I there for Asfrid or her child. Or even my brothers for that matter, not that we had his body to send on his last voyage.
I wasn’t here when they needed me. Why couldn’t I have stayed? If I could only have one last moment with my wife and child, I’d give the rest of my days and cherish that moment. What would I say to them?
I look out and imagine their boats coming back to shore, but they’re not sleeping on their final rest, instead, they’re standing up, as alive as I am sitting here now. The smiles on their faces are what I am trying to remember, but all I remember were the last moments that they gave me, and instead of cherishing them, I wasted them. My brother might be lost forever. I don’t know if he died holding his weapon, and I can’t recover the body to send him on his last voyage. He’s gone, and it still feels like it’s all my fault. And instead of cherishing those last moments with my wife and child, I was consumed with revenge. All I wanted to do was kill that elf. He haunted my memories.
Now I have all but forgotten him. Instead, I just remember the tears my wife cried on the day that I left. I just wish I could have those moments back. Instead of seeking death, I’d cherish life. But not even the father above can reverse the tree of time.
But if Arni and Hrut stepped on this dock one last time, I’d spill my heart out to them. I have so much to tell them. If they were standing in front of me for one last moment, I’d tell them this.
I clear my throat. “If you were here, Arni, my love, I wouldn’t feel so alone. You’re the only thing I was holding onto. You and our child. I saw all the days ahead with us. Hrut would have many brothers and a sister or two. I’d make sure of it. Hrut, you and your siblings would spend your time learning all the things you need to in order to survive this world. You’d spend time with Aldam, the grumpy old dwarven blacksmith. He’s short and bald, but he’s got a mouth as loud as a bear. You won’t like him very much at first, but he’ll grow on you. In the end, you’ll think of him as a close friend. He knows everything there is to know about making weapons. Of course, I’m sure Arni would spend a lot of time chasing you and your siblings around, getting you out of trouble. Wouldn’t you, love?”
I laugh at the thought of that sweet, kind, woman acting like my mother. “Like Thorkel and I, you’d spend a lot of time doing slave work and your arse would be full of welts. But like me, you’d cherish that time. I’d teach you how to fight and swing an ax. You’d make your own sword, just like I had.”
I take in a deep breath and smell the air. The icy wind brings in that salty scent. I try hard, but no matter how deep I breathe in, I still can’t smell their scent. Arni would always smell like flowers because she spent so much time picking them. Hrut would smell like barf and shit. Most of the time, he cried all night. But there was that time he opened up his eyes and smiled at me. I’ve never felt so alive during those tiny moments. I saw myself in his eyes. “Arni, I wish I could smell the flowers you always had in your hair one last time. I wish we were back in the woods and trying to stop our sibling and friends.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding as I see another boat leave the harbor. Tonna’s now in one of the great halls. Feasting with my wife and her sister. I can imagine Tonna and Asfrid might instead be fighting. I don’t think they ever liked each other. Of course, Arni would surely try to break them up. The thought brings both the tears out of my eyes and puts a smile on my face. “Arni, please, just give me one more moment. Please let me hold Hrut one last time.”
“Bothvi? What are you doing?” I turn around to see little Thora walking out with Svala. It hurts every time she calls me Bothvi, just like Arni used to do, but I can’t bring myself to tell her not to. I suppose she, more than anyone, has every right to. Because of me, she has to grow up without her parents. Instead of having Thorkel and Asfrid here to teach her how to be a Kraken, she is stuck with me.
“He’s talking with his wife and your parents. And it would seem your cousin too,” Svala says. Her golden blonde hair twirls with the wind.
“Why did you two come out here? It’s cold, and the dock is slick.” I ask.
“I wanted to see you, uncle Bothvi,” Thora says with that innocent little smile. In a way, it kind of reminds me of the smile Thorkel would always give.
“She wanted to see you, but I wanted to speak to them too,” Svala says as she sits down next to me. Thora sits down on the other side.
“How do you speak to them?” Thora asks.
I breathe in and fill my lungs with the bitter cold air long enough to hurt before letting it go. I look into the little girl’s eyes and I see both my brother and Asfrid. But someone else too. Someone new. “Well, you just close your eyes and imagine them sailing a boat back to the docks. They’ll get off and hug you. Then you’ll get your chance to say everything you need to say.”
“What do they look like?” Thora asks as she brushes her light blonde hair from her face. Her tiny little nose looks like a miniature one of Arni’s. The same one Asfrid shares. Only hers was always sticking up at everyone else.
“Well, your mother had the same nose as you. Your father shares my face. He’d have a beard like mine, too. He would be big and strong. Your mother shared my wife’s golden blonde hair. They also had the same eyes as you. Deep blue eyes. As blue as the ocean. I’m sure your brother would share the same blue eyes and golden hair. He wasn’t much younger than you are now.”
“What about Hrut?” Svala asks.
“Hrut had blue eyes too. Same with his hair. It was dirty, like mine instead of the clean golden hair his mother had. He also got a nose like mine.”
“I remember now. He did have an enormous nose,” Svala says. My eyes fall flat.
“Well, papa and mama, and little brother, if you are listening, I hope your voyage went smoothly. I’m stuck here with uncle Bothvi. He’s okay. He’s like a big bear. He even has a cloak made out of bear fur.” She pauses and looks up at me. “What else should I say?”
“Well, you’re doing pretty good so far. You definitely pinned down the old bear. Although you missed the part about his grumbling,” Svala says.
“Yeah, papa, Bothvi grumbles a lot. Just like a bear.”
Svala laughs hard. “He also loves to snore. Loudly. I bet ya we all know who can speak the truth on that, right Arni?”
Svala’s smile widens. “Yep, Arni agrees with me. She says you snore louder than a boar.”
Thora laughs so hard that she hiccups. “What else did Arni say?”
“Well,” Svala sits up and scratches her head. Her face softens as she looks up at me. “She says she misses us. She wishes she had one last moment with us, especially the bear.”
I look at Svala and search for… Does she really see them? She smiles at me. “She also says Hrut is growing up fast. He’s already a man. He literally just sprung into a man a few sunrises ago. It was so sudden.”
I laugh so hard that I nearly choke. Did I really think she could speak to the dead? I look back at Svala and she beams with joy. And so does Thora. The two of them are wearing smiles that make the sun seem dull when it is out. “Let’s go inside and eat. Winter is finally over. I can feel it.”
“Yay!” Thora says as she jumps to her feet and sprints down the dock. Svala runs behind her.
“Hey! No running on the dock,” I yell at them and they ignore me.”
—
“You’re too short,” I say, with my hand on her head as she tries to punch and kick me.
“I am not too short. You’re just too tall!” She snaps back, then she tries to grab my arm and pull me down, but she is like a baby pulling on a tree. I only laugh. “Don’t laugh! I’m going to be the greatest warrior to ever come out of the Kraken clan!”
That makes me laugh even harder. “How will you do that? You can’t even land a punch on me?”
“You just wait, uncle. I’ll punch you good. So good, you’ll… You’ll… You’ll.” She pauses to think about it. “You just won’t like it.
I chuckle. “Is that so? Well, let’s see it.”
She tries to move past my arm, but she’s too small. Her little tiny arms can’t reach me. “This isn’t fair!”
“Rule one, Thora, life isn’t fair, and neither is battle. You can’t expect fairness from either. If you’re planning on hitting an enemy as big as me, you’re going to need to use your head to do so. The mind is a sharper weapon than the sword. Think!”
She takes a second before she grins. She backs up a bit, crouches down, and springs forward. Once again, my hand’s in her path. Suddenly she flings up dirt in my eyes and spins off my hand. Her little fist pelts my side with a punch.
“Ha! Take that, uncle,” she says as I wipe the dirt from my eyes.
“Clever girl. I’ll give ya that one. You took my advice and applied it. Good, but next time you won’t get away with the same trick. I’ll be ready for it. What will you do then?”
“I’ll figure something out. You just wait,” she says with a smirk as she wipes the dirt-stained sweat off her brow.
“I guess I’ll have to, I suspect supper is ready. Come, little one, let us eat. Your grandmother will want to have lessons for you after,” I say as I ruffle the girl’s hair into a bigger mess than it already is.” Then you should spend time chopping wood.”
“Chopping wood? That’s slave work!” she says, sticking out her bottom lip.
“Nonsense, chopping wood helps you develop your swing and builds your strength as long as you do it correctly. Now come, mother and aunt will have lessons for you.”
“Ahh, I don’t want to. I want to learn how to use a sword and an ax!” she says, brushing her messy golden blonde hair out of her face. The same hair Arngunn and Asfrid shared. I see so much of both of them in her and it hurts, but at the same time, it’s bitter-sweet. There’s a lot of Thorkel in her as well. Her determination is the same as his. She’s all I have left of all of them. She’s so much like Thorkel, I have a hard time not thinking of her as a sister instead of my niece. Because of it, I let her get away with far too much.
We head into the hall where the family is, squabbling amongst themselves. As soon as mother sees me, she rushes over to little Thora and sighs. Behind her, two familiar elven women walk behind wearing the Elvish magic restricting slave collars. I recognize them and remember them from long ago. One is Valindra and the other is Renna. They serve my mother and my Aunt Sigvor now. I can’t help but feel bitter. Every time I look at the elves, I see that red-haired bastard who killed my brother.
Even so, I know not all elves are the same, just like not all humans are the same, or even Northerners for that matter. Oddly, they seem rather attached to my mother. She has that effect on people. She can be rather scary at times, but she has a way of making people loyal to her. Same with my Aunt Sigvor. Silent most of the time, but she has an enormous heart. My mother is quite the opposite when it comes to being quiet, but they both share the same golden heart. Even their slaves hold them in such high regard. I believe it is because they don’t treat them like most do. They treat them fairly as they treat everyone. Although I’d argue my mother treats her children more harshly than most. My backside will agree. But she does it with love. “By the gods, girl, have you been wrestling with pigs? You’re as dirty as one and you smell like one. You need to bathe.”
“Uncle Bothvi has been teaching me to fight. I punched him good,” she says.
“Yeah, it tickled,” I say, rather too flatly. She punches me in the thigh. I look down at her with a grin. “Are you trying to make me laugh, girl?”
She flails at me with punches, I just brush her aside like a gnat, heading past the hearths and into the dining hall where a table of food lies, past the rows of tables against the wall, stretching all the way to the right of my father’s keep. A keep that has been built upon by our ancestors and has been made strong by stone and metal. It is far larger than anything I’ve ever seen in the Northern clans. A keep on top of the highest hill before the mountains. The hill itself is surrounded by walls and towers. And several large houses of my father’s closest friends line the lower level of the hill. My stomach roars. I give it a good pat. “I’m hungry.”
Thormar, Bodvar, and Svala are already eating with father as slaves scramble to get more drink and food. I grab my own plate, fill it, and take my seat by Thormar with a chair I had to bring down to hold my weight. I even had to replace all the tables and my bed in my room with reinforced metal ones.
By the gods Thormar has changed since Thorkel’s Death. It’s hard not to see him as my aloof little brother who always asks lots of annoying questions and throws temper tantrums. But now, he seems so reserved and full of anger all the time. His eyes bear shadows that never were there before and he eats in silence.
Bodvar and Svala have too changed, neither seem as carefree as they once were. Svala picks at her food while Bodvar eats as if it were just another task, no hint of that goofy smile he always wore.
My great uncle Alvi and Gudrod walk in, grabbing a plate before they take a seat. I must say, Gudrod is a lot older than when I last saw him. He’s a little older than Bodvar. Almost raiding age. He’s grown a bit taller, still not as tall as Thormar, but close. Still has a baby-fresh face with no hair at all.
“Hey, Bothvar!” He says with that same smile. Some things never change.
“Hey, Gudrod. Hey Uncle Alvi,” I say with a nod.
“We’re doing great! Alvi has been teaching me all about raiding. Soon, I’ll be old enough to raid myself. I’m only a few cycles shy and then I’ll be able to join your crew. I can’t wait!” His smile reaches ear to ear.
“I don’t really raid…”
“Will you finally come to your senses, my son, and raid this summer?” Father asks, butting in as he picks pieces out of his bread to eat.
“My place is here, teaching Thora, besides, it seems like Thormar stepped in to take my place,” I say.
The little girl breaks away from mother and runs around the table as the old woman chases after. “Get back here. You’re taking a bath whether you like it or not.”
“You’ll never get me!” she screams as she manages to get to the opposite side of the tables.
“Just take a bath already, Thora. You stink like pig shit,” Svala says in a mumble as she twirls her spoon around her food.
“Uncle, will you talk some sense into the boy?” father asks Alvi.
Uncle only shrugs. “Bothvar, I was once in your boots. After my wife and children died, I had no will to continue on. I was lost, and I didn’t know what to do about it. It is good that you have found a purpose in raising little Thora, but you also have to remember your people. Even though we survived The Longest Night, as you well know, many did not. Who knows when another winter will come just like that, or worse. If we do not raid, we will not eat. That is how we get our resources. Thora definitely needs you, but if you want her to gain the honor and glory of her father, you need to show her how it is done by leading by example.”
“You have to raid, Bothvar. You are the greatest warrior I know. If you don’t go, who will make sure everyone comes back safely?” Gudrod says.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” father says.
I let out a sigh, but don’t argue as Thora sprints around the table with mother chasing after her, bumping into Thormar. Thormar slams his fist on the table after he spills his drink everywhere.
I’m surprised he doesn’t have his maps with him. He’s been obsessed with those maps ever since Uncle Koll brought one back after summer raids as a boy. I look up at my father. “Father, why don’t you go west? That is what Thorkel wanted to do. Not to mention, from what I have heard, the elves have a good many islands and trade routes.”
Thormar looks up at me from his plate and blinks, then he turns to father.
“Fighting the elves is a losing battle. We have nothing to combat their magic. I also don’t want to fight the Pirates either. Some of them are allies and others use magic as well,” father says as he gives me dirty looks.
“Why don’t we use magic?” Thormar asks, seeming to come out of his stupor.
“I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t hurl balls of fire,” father says.
“But what if we could get people who can?” Thormar asks. It’s hard to believe my little brother is a man now. He has Thorkel’s ambitions. They both wanted to raid west. Part of me wishes we had. Of course, Thormar has always wanted to explore the unknown. That’s one of the few things the two shared. Now, he’s old enough to raid and has been already.
“And how do you propose we do that?” Father asks as people enter the hall. Koll and Einar Alriksson, along with Throst Thorhallson join us at the table. My father’s closest friends.
“We could capture slaves who do magic. We could train them like you train a dog. Those collars the elves use prohibit their magic, so we could maybe find a way to use collars to control their magic,” Thormar says. My mother continues to chase Thora around the hall before the little girl gets caught by my father, who holds her into a headlock and further messes up her hair as she laughs while struggling to get free.
My mother takes Thora from my father and practically has to drag her away as she kicks and claws.
Father turns his attention to the visitors after they’ve been given food and drink. “Greetings, my friends. How is the kin?”
“Ask me after I’ve drunk enough ale,” Einar grumbles. “One son always has his nose in books. My oldest is an excellent warrior but should read a book or two. Sadly, my daughters show the most potential. At least if they don’t kill each other.”
“What about your sister’s son? May she feast in the halls of the gods,” my father asks.
“He’s a coward. The boy will never survive in a fight. He can’t stomach it. Passes out every time he even sees a drop of blood,” Einar says, disdain dripping from his words. He’s graying in his prominently black beard and long hair.
His twin brother, Koll, slaps his arm. “Could be worse. I can’t get a moment of silence in my own home between my three wives and all the children I’ve lost count of. My children’s children are now getting old enough to argue. Veleif’s four daughters are enough to drive me crazy. Toss in Gili’s daughter and my three grandsons who are now old enough to raid along with Tyrkir’s baby boy who never stops crying, and my house has become a battlefield. Let alone all of their wives and my daughters who never stop fighting each other. When they’re not arguing with each other, they join forces to argue against me.”
Father laughs. “You’re the madman who married three wives. I can hardly handle one.”
“The thing is, they get along quite well with each other. They’re nearly inseparable. I couldn’t marry one without the other two since they were all the bestest of friends from childhood, but women just love to argue. And the worst thing is, they’re all smart and cunning. Women should never be allowed to be so smart. I feel as if I’m in a constant game of war with them. And I always seem to lose.” Koll sighs and takes a long drink from his mug and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.
After letting out a loud belch, he wipes his mouth and continues. “It’s bad enough that Ingithora and Svanhild get enough sex from each that they’ll hold out on me just to spite me when I anger them, which is all the time. I don’t even know what I do to anger them. And Amora is rarely ever in the mood. What is the point of having three wives if none of them want to have sex? Madness, I tell you. Thank the gods they don’t care if I fuck the slave girl,” Koll says before he downs the rest of the mug. My father wears a keen smirk as he sips his ale. Koll slams his mug down with another burp. “Of course, that is when Ingithora and Svanhild don’t hog her. Melissa, the slave, is a good woman. Tender and kind. She knows how to treat a man. She also apparently knows how to treat a woman…”
“Thank the gods my wife isn’t like that. She doesn’t play those games. I just wish she’d give me a son already. I’ve put six babies in her and they’ve all come out girls. How is that possible?” Throst asks as he runs a hand through his red hair and leans back in his chair.
Koll slaps him on the shoulder. “You can have one of mine.”
“Aye, maybe we can marry off my daughter to one of your grandsons. My youngest two are about the same age,” Throst says.
Koll shrugs. “If your daughter agrees to marry one of my grandsons, I’m all for it. I know the little bastards would love to have any one of your daughters.”
Throst only shrugs. “I know Alfeid has always had an eye on Gudrik and Asdis is always seen with Starolf. They’d be perfect for each other.”
Father just shrugs and takes a sip. “So, my friends, what are your thoughts about the summer raids? My son thinks we should sail west.”
The men all look at me.
“So, you’re finally going to raid once again, Bothvar?” Einar asks.
“No.”
“Why not?” Einar asks. “Most of the men in the village heard of some of the exploits of your self-exile all those cycles ago. We heard of your victory against the Bone Eaters from the Valkyrie clan. They talk of you as some type of god who can’t be touched on the battlefield. They say you slaughtered them like cattle. Never even getting a scratch while leaving a mountain of corpses. There are stories of how you killed a bear with your bare hands and fought hordes of yeti and those Shadow Stalkers in the mountains. They’ve seen that yeti horn and the antlers you have. Let alone the fact that you have saved us all from starvation. Surely, you’re not afraid to raid.”
“I didn’t kill any yeti. I was friends with the yeti. If it weren’t for them, I would’ve been killed by the Shadow Stalkers. Those fiends will kill anything they come across. And I didn’t kill the bear with my bare hands, I killed it with an ax and a bow. Besides, I made a promise to look after Thora and teach her how to be strong. Isn’t that our way?”
“Yes, it is, and that is why we raid. To provide for our young. This is our way. It always has been,” Koll says with a stern look. “Don’t you want to provide for Thora?”
“Didn’t you also make a promise to avenge Thorkel? How will you do that if you don’t raid?” Father asks.
“Besides, we all know too well what happens when we do not have enough to provide for our people when winter comes. The Longest Night may prove to be the first of many,” Throst says.
I grit my teeth as I ponder the old men’s words. What they say makes sense. If we were more successful in our raids, maybe my beloved Arni, my baby boy, Asfrid, and Thorkel’s son would still be alive. But still, what about Thora? Can I leave her alone? I’m supposed to guide her and train her to be like her father. The girl suddenly bursts into the room in trousers and a shirt far too big for her. Her hair soaking wet. My exasperated mother walks in behind her with Sigvor silently snickering.
“Perhaps,” is all I say.
“By the way, I’m the one who wanted to sail west,” Thormar speaks up.
“Is that so? What do you hope to find out west? Have you not heard of the monsters that swim in the deep seas out west? The Kraken will bring our ships down to the depths if the Charybdis doesn’t get us in its jaws. Not to mention the pesky Merrow.”
“Are the Merrow not merpeople? I’ve heard tales of the beauty of mermaids. Surely, they aren’t the same thing, are they?” Thormar asks. The little brother I remember from our childhood is slowly coming out from the walls he’s built. He used to be so curious about everything. Always asking questions. But now, if I hadn’t brought up going west, he would’ve left the topic buried in silence. What has happened to my little brother?
“They are different. Think of the Merrow as savage merpeople. They eat human flesh and will hunt anything that enters its waters,” Throst says.
“I haven’t seen a mermaid before. I wouldn’t hold weight to such nonsense unless I see it with my own eyes,” Einar says. Uncle Alvi snores as he sleeps, sitting up.
“We also have to look out for Jotnar ships. The giants have massive ships that could trample our own. They’ll take you alive and eat you like the Bone Eaters,” Throst says.
“I heard they sacrifice humans to their giant god they worship. A giant that is the size of a mountain and could squash a house with its foot,” Thormar says.
“Where do you hear these tales?” Einar asks.
“Your son, Eystein, told me. He said he read…”
“Do not listen to my son. The boy reads too many books. He knows not of the world because he hardly steps out of the house. How can you know of the world if you haven’t seen any of it?” Einar asks.
“But he knows lots of things. He told me that if I take the seawater, boil it, and trap the steam in something, we can drink the steam. He read that in a book,” Thormar says at Einar with a challenging gaze. “Trandil and I have even gone to the dwarf Aldam for his help in making a device we can take out on raids that will allow us to make seawater drinking water.”
Einar huffs. “Trandil and Eystein are fool boys who don’t know their heads from their asses.”
“But they’re your blood. How can you say that about them?” Thormar asks.
“They may be my blood, but they’re still foolish boys,” Einar says, slamming his fist on the table.
“Aye, but you have to admit, brother, the water thingy does have its merits,” Koll says, slapping Einar on the shoulder.
My father slams his mug on the table after emptying it and stands up. “I propose we go out for a hunt. Winter is over. I bet we can find a big fat boar or maybe some bear coming out of their sleep.”
“A hunt sounds fun indeed,” Throst says with a smile.
“Yes, I need something to kill before I head home. I know my wives surely have some scheme brewing,” Koll says.
“Yeah, a hunt sounds needed. Let’s kill us a bear. I need a good challenge,” Einar says.
“Are you coming, Bothvar?” my father asks. I nod as I finish the food on my plate.
“I want to come,” Bodvar says.
“Me too!” Svala utters.
Father looks at the two of them through his cool blue eyes, combing his beard with his fingers. “I suppose you’re both old enough to go out hunting. Just stay in the back, be quiet, and do as I tell you to.”
Father looks up at Thormar. “You’re coming too. But stay back with Bodvar and Svala.”
“Wait, a second. I will not have my two youngest out on these wild boar chases,” mother says.
“I want to come!” Thora shouts as she jumps on the table.
“No!” I snap rather quickly and a little too intensely. Thora jumps back and trips. I grab her shirt before she falls back on her arse. “You’re too young and too reckless.”
“Ahhh, but…”
“No buts,” I say.
Thora sticks out her bottom lip and pouts. She glares at me. That little face of hers melts my heart like a hot forge, but I won’t budge on this. “When you get Bodvar’s age, I’ll think about it.”
“Okay…” she says as she climbs off the table.
“Come, child. Let me read you a story about the goddess Idunn and the tale of how Flosi tricked her and tried to take her to the giant Thiazi,” Sigvor says.
“Did she escape? Is she alright?” Thora asks.
“You’re just going to have to come and find out,” Sigvor says.
I make sure they get Thora to chop wood when they’re done and try to ingrain the proper way of cutting wood to her, which she, of course, shrugs off. I rush up to grab my hunting supplies, but stop at the beam Thorkel and I found Thormar pounding nails into. The beam is covered from top to bottom with nails and hammer indents. I remember when Thorkel and I found Thormar hammering what feels like a long time ago. He told us father told him to do it whenever he lashes out with his anger. Thorkel thought it was amusing, but looking at this beam covered in nails and dents…
I look down at Thormar as he finishes his food and then talks to an elven male slave, he took during his time raiding while I stayed back to raise Thora. I don’t remember the slave’s name. Thormar seems so reserved and lost. What happened to my little brother? He’s no longer that curious and kind boy I remember. Why were Thorkel and I so mean to him? Never including him in any of our adventures. Always teasing him and pushing him away. Even Bodvar and Svala have given him a hard time. Especially Bodvar. I’m beginning to fully understand the consequences of my actions. What seemed like such harmless teasing has really taken its toll on my little brother. Each word left a cut on him and those cuts have become scars and this beam shows all of the scars my brother has endured.
“Bothvar, are you coming?” Bodvar asks as he throws his hunting bow over his shoulder. I shake the thoughts from my head, nod, and grab my gear.
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