Stone Circle Heartland

“Oh, Nooo,” she laughs, and shakes her head at Skáld’s misinterpretation, endeared by the way he so quickly starts digging regardless. “I’m making a den here so I have a place to sleep. Um home- heim. Tauris’s heim.” She attempts to translate.

Skáld takes to the task with such a furious focus, what is meant to be a bit of fun play turned rigid mission. She watches his stiff body knead the ground, a grave bearing evinced upon a firmly held brow, and a nervous glance awaiting her judgment.

“Thank you Skáld, you’re quite a good digger.”

She draws her lips into a thin smile for his sake, but cannot bridle an edging sadness. Where is the wilderness in this boy? All of the world was for children who played, but not this boy, who’s joy for digging was lost somewhere along the way.

“Skáld has heim too, yes? Near the Stone Circle?” She asks, fearing the answer.