I am tired. I grow frailer by the day.
Not devastatingly so. Nay, the weakening moves in small steps. But something I find normal one day, may be more exhausting the next; may be undoable the following week.
I know the cause in part, and that something I must face sooner rather than later. I must resolve it before I become a burden, before I no longer have the strength to fight.
Four strands bound me, according to Northgyth and Ymma. One of blood, one of blessing, one of love, one of curse.
Twined together they were, that severing one may well sever the others.
Northgyth had taken up Waelden’s sword. Heruwargr was to break the ‘spell’, though at that time I did not understand how.
‘Choose’ she had said. And I thought she meant choose between Waelden and Isa? Had that been the case then there was no choice. Waelden would easily come first, even if that sealed my fate.
In recent days I have begun to better understand what she meant. The matter is not so clear cut.
And my ‘women’ friends ( I say this because neither of them are the usual form of a woman) had done all they could to free me. In doing so they cut my spirit wolf, Isa, from me.
Isa has been with me as guardian and guide since I was fourteen years of age. Maybe longer? Without her, I grow unnaturally weak.
Can I learn to thrive without her, for I will not abandon my Greybeard.
Now I must start making other choices. Several of them.
The first; how much do I tell Waelden and Ethel? For if they know the truth, I most strongly suspect they will not permit me to face this alone.
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