King Elk Forest ≼ baldrs draumar

she came to him without sound, falling into step at his side when he rose. the forest opened for them — roots, stone, old ground — until the altar emerged, worn smooth by hands and weather. she set the bounty down with care and bowed her head, heat bleeding from her skin into the cold stone.

her voice came from thegrave, shaped by scar and faith, offered to the allfather:

óðinn alfǫðr, sjá blóð ok spor. tak þat er veitt var, leið oss í vilja.

she stayed bowed a moment longer, then lifted her head and turned to her jarl. her eyes held his, unwavering and expectant. a spiritual glow ebbed, speaking from the roots in the depths of her irises.

þeir krefjast at þú berir þá.