Stavanger Bay Lilacs and love

Thistle had woken to the smell of lilacs and she had stared at them neatly near her. As terrible as it was to admit she had thought about ripping them to shreds and throwing on the four winds to scatter to and fro, but she couldn’t do it. She sniffed at them, gently and taking them in her mouth she left the den to sit outside, while she waited for the children to get up.

She knew realistically she should really forgive him now, but she just couldn’t get completely over her fury. She was working at it, and by night fall she’d probably be fine, and the lilacs of course they helped. At least the stubborn man listened when she talked, that was more than she could say for most men and their wives. They lay at her feet and ever so often she’d bend down to get a smell of them. Even though lilac permeated the air.

Soon enough their children got up and commenced to ripping and tearing across the small clearing that they called home, with herself keeping a close eye on them. They would occasionally try and edge out of the boundaries and usually would come back with a sharp word from her, sometimes she had to meander to them and bring them back. Maybe she’d talk to Ragnar about taking them one at a time around the borders if he would, maybe it would quench the fire for exploration, or turn it into a roaring inferno either one.