Stone Circle Once there was a way to get back home

The young boy dozed as he waited, soothed by the vision of a Bjarna coming to greet him soon, and take him somewhere warm. His time lost had whittled him down to a matchstick frame of what he had once been- and Skáld had never possessed a hearty frame to begin with.

But it was not his sister who appeared in the most, but one with a sharp gaze and dark coat. Droplets of dew dripped from his chin as he lifted it slightly to see her, doe-eyed. She spoke and he understood only her tone, not her words.

”No,” He whimpered, his voice shaky but apologetic. He had no idea what she’d said, but he wished to shirk the rebuke he heard in her voice. ”Home,” He choked, ”Bjarna. Gunnar. Home,” He pleaded feebly.