ode to the fallen (m)

Thistle was in the world between waking and sleeping, her husbands restlessness not going unnoticed. She knew him well enough, that she could say with confidence that even if he said nothing, the death of their friends bothered him. She imagined the death of the young one, might bother him more, but she wasn't certain. She heard his softly whispered words, but rather than follow him she just merely watched him leave with azure eyes in the dark. Figuring he needed his own time to make peace with their death, himself and his gods.

Thistle absolutely hated the fact that Ragnar had hidden mushrooms, she hated it so much that it hurt. It was a foolhardy drug and she wished he would not tempt fate so. However, she had not control over what he ate, just as she had no control over the man himself. She could only be there when the high wore off and he came down to earth hard and usually bloody.

Thistle had fallen back asleep only to wake up with a start as a loud screech sounded. She listened again and the sound of the raven's call, made the hair on the back of her neck rise. She jumped to her feet and bounded from the door as fast as she could past children. Racing towards the forest she heard the strangled cry of her husband and increased her speed. Her mind going in fifty different directions. What had happened? What would cause him to cry out so? Why were the ravens cawing.

Tilting her ears to the base of her skull she came upon the scene and she stared silently at the blood and gore that littered the ground. Realizing her husband had gotten to close to the dead rabbit on the ground and the ravens had protected their supper. However, she could smell the mushrooms on him, and it was probably in a drug induced coma he thought he had been talking to the gods. She flapped her jaw shut once twice and then propelled herself forward and looked at her husband. By all the gods Ragnar! What were you thinking? You foolish, stupid man! Oh gods! She got nearer to him and licked at the side of his face fighting hard not to puke at the snot, and blood and tendrils of flesh that hung from his empty eye socket. She imagined if it had been anyone but the man she loved or her family she would have been alright. But the sight was frightening and sickening all at once.