Ragnarök awaits.
It had been broad daylight when Åse stole away from her homeland. She’d simply… walked off. The silvered creature had a feeling no one would stop her, and she was right. The mare had simply faded into the background, faded into oblivion. Had anyone noticed? Did anyone care? Åse doubted it. She would always doubt it. Nothing mattered if she didn’t matter to anyone… right? The medicine woman was deep in her own head.
There was an emptiness within Åse’s ribs where her heart should be. The swim was a ritual cleansing of sorts. A long swim. One long enough to make her muscles ache. Would she drown out here? Maybe. If the sea took her back, the mare would simply allow it. If Åse was tired, if she could feel the fatigue in her muscles, it meant that she was alive. She would bleed just to feel alive, if that was what it took.
From far off, an island came into view. Åse could see it, and could see the ones beyond it. How strange, how curious. As she neared, the waters grew colder. It was that cold that drew her in, a moth to flame. The medicine woman was relieved to see land, but a bitterness rested in her chest regardless. She hadn’t drowned before finding land. Did Åse deserve a second chance? A chance to start over, start fresh? The gods apparently believed it so… or they had a sick sense of humor. Maybe both.
The sun hung low on the horizon as the medicine woman dragged herself to the rocky shore. She gave a great shake, flinging as much water from her coat as possible. Dense coat… it would keep her warm when dry, but the dampness wasn’t a friend. Åse’s gaze was wild as she took in the Meadow. Was there anyone out here? Danger? Adventure? She could only hope for the latter.
ÅSE
mare. ten. silver blue roan. icelandic. |