There was a knock at her bedroom door. Elina opened her eyes. The sun flooded in through a gap in the curtains, casting a beam of light across the wood of the floor. Frowning, she sat up. She'd fallen asleep behind a waterfall, listening to the rush of water and the distant calls of strange exotic birds.

Shaman was ridiculous.

Whoever was outside her room knocked again. She ran her fingers through her hair, combing it away from her face.

"Come in!" she called, drawing her blankets up to cover her chest. As the door was pushed ajar, she raised her knees and rested her chin on them. As Rhaegar stepped across the threshold, she smiled at him.

"Good morning, faðir," she said. Elina extended a hand and patted the bed for him to sit. "Is everything alright?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he replied, settling himself beside her. He set the box he was carrying across his knees. She raised an eyebrow. Rhaegar smiled back, a little sheepishly. "You don't normally sleep so late, little one. It's not like you." He seemed worried.

Smiling anew, she reached out again, setting her hand over his.

"I'm not ill," she promised, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze, "I was just having...a very enjoyable dream."

"You promise?"

Elina nodded. "I swear it." She paused, watching his expression as he seemed to fight some kind of inner battle, torn between concern and his desire to believe her. The latter won out in the end.

"So what's in the box?" she asked him brightly. Elina shifted her weight until she was kneeling beside him, her hands on his shoulder and her eyes on the box. He'd always loved giving presents.

"Open it," Rhaegar smiled, nudging it towards her. He held it steady at the edge of the bed. Elina ran her hands across the lid and then gently eased the catch. It sprung open, presenting her with a gap large enough for three fingers. She smiled at her step-father and then opened the box the rest of the way.

"Oh Rhaegar!" she breathed. There on a blue cushion lay the prettiest bow she had ever seen. She ran her fingers over the designs he'd worked into the wood. There was Valkyrie, and Hvitserk, speedwell flowers, and a wolf. Elina giggled her delight as she threw her arms around his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said, kissing the sharpness of his cheek, "I love it."

---

"He's so happy you're back, you know?" her mother said, handing her a bundle of blankets, wrapped up with ribbon.

"I know," she replied, rolling them and sliding them into her bag, ready to load onto Valkyrie's back. Elina hesitated. "And you, móðir? Are you glad to have me home?"
Her mother had always been harder to read than Rhaegar. Her expressions were harder to pinpoint, her internal struggles more muddle, and better hidden. They had been talking more and more as the months had slipped by, at dinner, or over drinks on an evening when Jorg had been packed off to bed, or it had become clear he wasn't coming home that evening. It had rarely been just the two of them. Rhaegar was always there as a buffer, or an intruder...? It was difficult to tell sometimes.

"Of course I am," Thryi replied, breaking the too-long silence. She seemed to hesitate, as if there was more she wanted to say, but couldn't bring herself to do it. It had always been her way. They could have filled sagas with everything her mother didn't say.

"Take care of yourself," Thyri said instead, glancing over at Rhaegar. Her step-father held onto Valkyrie's head, gently caressing her nose. "Run circles round some boys for me, and have fun."

Elina nodded, flirting with the idea of a hug. Her mother seemed too...remote, suddenly, as distant as a star or sun and all the colder for it. With a smile, and a sigh, she collected her new bow and turned to her thestral. Rhaegar gave her a boost into the saddle.

---

The bow proved as fine to use as it was beautiful, and for once, she had no complaints to make against the forest. Despite its somewhat formidable reputation, it was full of life. Hvitserk ranged ahead, quick and shadow-like. He scared birds from the thicket, giving her a clear shot, and there was little to rival the singing of the bow string when an arrow left your fingers. She should have known it would be perfect. No one made weapons and tools as fine as Rhaegar's. She was sure he had a talent for it that had little to do with magic.

Jumping down from Valkyrie's back, she hurried through the long grasses to collect her prize. The shot had been clean. The pheasant lay dead a little to the left of a circle of rocks. With deft fingers, and help from the dagger at her belt, she removed the right wing, and tossed it to Hvitserk as his reward. She was about to set to work on the left, when something caught her eye. A squirrel, exhausted, but not quite dead, struggled in a snare, half-concealed by a patch of weeds. Elina tutted under her breath, attached the pheasant to her belt and crept forwards. The squirrel's chest rose and fell in erratic breaths, his little mouth open. Even if she freed it, it wouldn't make it. Its eyes had already begun to dull. Scooping it up in the right hand, she fidgeted the snare line until she loosened it enough to slip it off over the squirrel's head. Her fingers came away bloody.

She ended the little creature's suffering with a snap.

When she turned around, Valkyrie was waiting for her.

"Here you go, girl," Elina muttered, holding the squirrel out on her palm. The thestral snapped it up eagerly and trotted away a few paces to finish.

Somewhere to her left, Hvitserk growled. The blue flames of his eyes burned brighter, his pointed ears turned in the direction of the trees past where Valkyrie stood. He didn't wait for a command. More friend than pet, he ran off into the trees with a snarl.

Elina swapped her hunting knife for the longer blade she kept beside her sword. She crept forwards, listening hard.

The sound of a familiar voice made her laugh out loud.

"I don't remember any dinner last time, sugar," she purred. Elina stepped through the line of trees, grinning wolfishly. "Hello Tahl."

She met his eye. They were as maddening as she remembered, and all the more noticeable against the dark greens and browns of his hunting clothes.

Hvitserk threw himself out from the shrubbery, colliding with Tahl's chest. Elina watched impassively, her arms folded across her chest as they toppled backwards onto the ground.

"Why don't we talk about who owes who what?" she said neatly, loud enough to be heard over Hvitserk's growls. "What you owe me, darling, is a good time."