Vaalea laid on her back upon a field of newly born grass, staring at the darkening sky and the emerging stars. Her hand rested on her chest, holding the wooden piece she had found from the bottom of the river a few days prior. She lifted it up against the sky and her eyes trailed the strange runes carved into it’s surface. She then lifted her other hand next to the wooden piece, and her gaze shifted into the cup of her palm. The wound in it appeared sickly and swollen, despite her great efforts to clean it and heal it. Her gaze jumped between the wound and the plate of wood. She didn’t understand the message the Great Spirits had sent her. A piece of wood, with a nail in it and a wound in her hand. She sighed, allowing her hands to fall into the grass with a soft thud. She closed her eyes and slowly she drifted away.
Suddenly she was sitting on the grass and the area around her was strangely alive with fresh vegetation, trees with blossoms and thick soft grass. There was no sorrow, no worry nor fear at the back of her mind. She felt peaceful, but soon this serenity was broken by a sound of horns, booming from beyond the horizon, snared instruments playing, drums that made her heart skip a beat and the sounds of carnivorous beasts howling and barking wildly at each other. The sounds grew stronger and she climbed on her feet. Blinking slowly, she stared at the horizon, laying her hand upon her chest where her pendant had once been. Her fingers were hungrily seeking it, the courage and the guidance of her ancestors held within the token. Yet the pendant was not there.
As if it had never been the music ceased, the howling ceased and only the branches of the trees and the grass hissed as the cold wind brushed past. It was at this time a figure appeared behind her, a wanderer of sorts with his head held high and a staff from which fresh twigs sprouted in his meaty hand. He looked at her with surprise and he went closer to stare at her wide eyed. She turned slowly around to meet the man’s gaze, her eyes growing wide as well. The man blinked and he planted a fist on his hip. Yet then he smiled kindly as he rose up to his full height and raised his voice, yet it was like it came from within her own mind rather than his lips,
”Do you have a story to tell?”
Vaalea glanced down at her hand which still laid on her bare chest. She dropped the hand to her side and where her pendant had once been there now was a small hole, and even though it was not very wide, it seemed to be very deep and the darkness inside it was swirling, and the skin around the hole seemed to be burnt. She looked at the hole wide-eyed before raising her gaze to meet that of the man’s. She replied in her mother tongue,
”Yes. I think I do.”
The man smiled, a broad smile of a man being presented with a treat. He placed his staff down upon the ground and roots came out at it's base, digging into the earth. Vaalea looked at the roots and she didn't feel afraid or confused, instead she smiled, grateful for his presence. He sat and gestured for her to do the same and to speak. She sat and drew a deep breath before she'd begin,
”My father is a chief of our Tribe, The Tribe of the Wolf in the Northern lands. Some years ago, he sought guidance of Vanha Tietäjä, a shaman, who gave a prophecy that my brother Valio would one day become a great chief and that I would become a woman to the chief of the neighbouring Tribe. I disliked this chief, so I convinced my brother, that we should instead head South and see what lays beyond our icy lands. And this is what we did."
He rose up a finger for her to pause a moment and pulled the staff. It bent towards him and sap started to pour from the twigs upon it. It took a while for him to fill up the flask he had at his belt which eventually he offered to her.
”Keep telling, it is interesting to hear!”, he said.
Vaalea took the flask with a kind smile and a bow of her head, she took a long swig of the nectar, before continuing,
”For a year we traveled with ease, hunting and experiencing the world of this new green. But then we encountered a band of evil men, and….”
She paused, staring at him intently, her eyes tearing up, yet she refused to blink back the tears as she continued,
”I was lucky, as I'm a fast runner, but my brother was large of build and they caught him and killed him. And he never became the chief he was supposed to become. I have never felt as lonely as I felt the next few years, simply hunting. I drifted more and more South, as I felt I couldn't return. After all..I had caused the death of our future leader.”
She smiled hopelessly, before taking another sip from the flask, swiping her tears away with her fingers. His lower lip quivered a little and a big finger ran curled over his eyes to wipe at the spilling there. He looked as if he had forgotten something at this time. Until he took a breathe of the air, he sniffed something that turn his face towards suspicion. The air was becoming ever more chill, bringing with them feverish shivers. He held out his hand, towards her and she took her hand into his, gripping it in a gentle but firm fashion. He smiled again and turned her palm gently upwards. He took a sniff and there she began to bleed. A small red pool resting in her hand. He frowned as he watched the blood,
”Seek healing and friends at the tumbled hall being remade. Tyrgrim you seek wisdom from”, he sucked on his teeth then, ”After that…”, he gestured for the hole in her chest, ”Seek healing at home.” Her mind was filled quickly with questions, "And where is the tumbled hall being remade? And what if I'm not welcomed home? What if I have no home?"
He simply kept smiling while in the distance the beasts started to howl again and the chill diminished somewhat.
”Ask northern men.”, he answered her firstly, ”Then make your home.”, he responded the second time as he got up and circled behind her. He laid his hands on her eyes and gently laid her down on the ground. ”Sshhhh..”, his voice relaxed her while the horns and howling in the horizon became louder once more.
Then there was nothing, all was gone, no up, no down, no sound nor silence. The advice in her head yet lingered in her subconscious and the memory of wetness in her hand. She had been given the words she was allowed to hear.
((This is based on RP, so I must credit the high and mighty Valknutr whose character concept I simply adore ! Over half of this text is by his hand. ))
