‘But you can have your sword back.’ She gestured to where she’d left his sword belt outside the roundhouse. ‘Since there are other dangers in the forest. Just know that if you use a weapon on one of my wolves, I’ll kill you myself.’
‘Understood.’ He nodded. ‘Although you still haven’t told me your name...?’
She hesitated, her gaze latching on to his for a few seconds. He was smiling the same lopsided smile he’d worn yesterday. It made her chest feel oddly tight and tremulous, as if just the sight of it had some power to constrict her breathing, although something about it struck her as a little too practised. She had the feeling that he knew exactly what effect it caused. The sight of his bare chest where his tunic hung open wasn’t exactly helping either. It would have been easier if either his face or physique had been a little less eye-catching, but they were both equally impressive. Even with an arm’s length between them she was altogether too aware of him, of his broad shoulders, his musky scent, his powerful abdominal muscles, the sprinkling of pale hair over his chest... But he’d asked her a question, hadn’t he? Something about her name?
No, she hadn’t told him her name. She hadn’t heard it spoken aloud for so long that it seemed to belong to another lifetime. The last person who’d called her by her name had been her mother, her beautiful, grey-eyed mother who’d held her close and then told her to run just minutes before a warrior had cut her down in cold blood... A warrior! The tremulous feeling faded, replaced by a block of cold stone.
‘No, I didn’t.’ She turned towards the forest. ‘Pick one. I don’t care.’
Chapter Six
‘Erika!’ Danr rubbed the small of his back, aiming another of his lop-sided grins at the woman when she returned to the clearing a few hours later. The sun was a long way past its zenith and he’d been starting to wonder whether something had happened to her. Other than that concern, however, he’d had an unexpectedly enjoyable day—in an exhausting kind of way. It hadn’t been easy, but it had made a refreshing change. Most of the time these days, his mind was consumed with thoughts of revenge and retribution, but today the fresh air and physical activity had distracted him. It had felt good to take his mind off Hilda and Joarr for a w
hile. It had actually felt good to be alive, too. It was the first time in three years that he’d thought so—another reason that he hoped the woman would let him stay longer. It was surprising how much he wanted to...
‘Erika?’ She tipped her head to one side with a confused expression.
‘That’s what I’ve decided to call you. Don’t you like it? Because I’m still toying with Bersa.’
‘Hmm.’ She made a face and dropped a pair of trout on to the ground. ‘Dinner.’
‘Ah, fish are my specialty. What’s all that?’ He peered into her basket, intrigued to see an assorted collection of plants and fungus. ‘Food or medicine?’
‘A little of both. Now where are my logs?’
‘Over there.’ He gestured proudly towards a stack of wood so high it was almost teetering, pleased to see her look of surprise.
‘That’s more than I expected.’
‘Good.’ Because he’d almost broken his other arm trying to prove how useful he could be. ‘Do I get a smile as a reward?’
‘No.’ She gave him a narrow-eyed look instead. ‘We’d better store them somewhere dry while we can.’
‘In the roundhouse?’
‘No.’ She didn’t explain, just took her basket inside and came back with a leather hide. As he watched, she placed a few of the logs on top, then folded the ends over and dragged it behind her through the trees.
Perplexed, Danr scooped a few more logs under his good arm and followed, Tove and Halvar scampering ahead towards the craggy edge of the mountain. Despite the recent snow, the weather had warmed up during the day, making the air feel almost balmy by comparison. There were signs of impending winter everywhere and yet he could almost have believed it was summer again. The late afternoon sky was turning from blue to orange, burnishing the tops of the trees with gold so it seemed as though they glowed. Now that he looked closer he could see lots of different kinds growing together—pine, mostly, as well as birch and alder and a few oak. They looked beautiful, less stark and menacing now than when he’d first found himself lost in the forest. The atmosphere was reassuringly peaceful, too, the silence disturbed only by the chirruping of birds, the whistle of the breeze in the canopy and the sound of logs being dragged in front of him. At that moment, he could almost forget why he’d come to Skíð in the first place.
They walked uphill for several minutes before the woman stopped and started wrenching at what looked like undergrowth, but turned out to be a screen made of interwoven branches and bracken covering a gap in the mountainside.
‘I store the things I can’t keep in the roundhouse here,’ she told him, ducking under a rocky overhang and disappearing into the darkness.
‘Impressive.’ Danr ducked, too, and then stood up beside her, his voice echoing around a large granite chamber. He stared in amazement, a few more gaps in the rock higher up allowing in just enough light to illuminate a range of objects stacked around the walls. Piles of furs and leathers, pots and pans...even a pair of chests and a peg loom in one corner. He wondered where she’d got it all from, living alone in the wilderness. Had she stolen it? Or were they family heirlooms?
She’d said that the clothes he was wearing had belonged to someone she once knew and the fact that she could speak suggested she’d spent some of her life around people. Norse people, too, since her accent was that of a native. What had happened to them? Why was she on her own now? The more he knew about her, the more of a mystery she seemed to become.
‘Are all of these things yours?’
‘Yes.’ She dragged the logs to one corner and tipped them out on to the ground. To his dismay there was already a sizeable amount of firewood. So much for making himself indispensable. She already seemed well equipped for winter. It was becoming increasingly obvious that she could manage perfectly well without him.
‘So you just leave everything here?’ He noticed several swords and shields propped against one wall. They were definitely Norse. ‘Aren’t you worried about someone finding it all?’
‘No. The entrance is hidden and most people don’t come up the mountain. They’re afraid of Tove and Halvar.’ She straightened up, rubbing her hands together briskly before walking slowly towards him. ‘And me.’
‘You?’ He held her gaze in the half-darkness. ‘Are you dangerous then?’
‘Some people think so. They say that I can make storms when the mood is upon me.’ She stopped in front of him. ‘Maybe you should listen to them and be afraid of me, too.’