She floated in the dark where she rested on one of the shields the southern invaders had brought with them. Instead of her loose fitting wool, she wore a soft linen shift that clutched tightly to her prone form. Endlessly, she stared up at the darkness only to be woken by the visage of some sort of animal’s giant maw tearing into her. She sat straight up in the pile of furs she slept in, looking around for the sleeping forms of any of the four sisters she shared the room with. She clutched herself tightly to the eldest, Oda, who instinctively, without waking up, took her sister in her arms to comfort her back to sleep. This repeated several times that night, until the first rays of dawn burst through the open window. Ulva slowly sat up in the piles of furs, blinking against the watery morning sun. She threw her golden blonde curls back, yawned wide and finally rose, looking for her clothes. “Ulva,” one of her sisters muttered, “Go back to sleep.” “Going for a swim,” Ulva said hastily, tying on her green linen tunic, before wandering out into the village. The village, barely worthy of the moniker, was a ragtag collection of ten huts surrounding the larger house of the headman, Ulva’s father, on a hill that formed the only functional defence of the town. There was a palisade around the town, but it had long since crumbled or been torn apart to be used in other construction. Somebody had once attempted to dig a ditch, but had given up halfway and nobody had seen fit to continue their work. Ulva inhaled the scent of the summer’s cold morning air, feeling her feet sink into the grass that was still slick with morning dew, before setting off downhill towards the gate. Only one other of the villagers was up at this time, immediately drawing Ulva’s attention. Asa the Huntress, who had just gotten home, had always terrified and tantalized the girl, who had regularly hidden behind her mother when she visited to hand over some form of tribute to the headman. She was now dragging the headless body of a deer behind her, gasping as she started on the uphill climb. Ulva hurried down the hill and cheerfully greeted the woman, then started to push the other side of the cadaver.
Asa, all slender muscle, looked curiously at Ulva with her striking yellow eyes, then cocked her head at the girl, letting the long brown plait she had tied with an old bowstring dangle wildly. She sniffed at something as if she tried to find where a cooking fire came from, then offered Ulva a soft smile, which was obviously an expression the woman wasn’t used to. “Congratulations,” she said, her voice hoarse and raspy from whatever she had done that night, apart from hunting stag. Ulva returned the felicitation with a blank look of incomprehension. “You dreamed of teeth tonight, didn’t you?” Ulva nodded, lost in a conversation she seemingly was both part and not part of. “Are you going swimming?” Ulva nodded again. “Go to the sacred pond. I’ll send your mother after.” “…why? I can swim.” “That’s between you and her. Oh! Give me a second,” Asa said, turned and waved absent mindedly at the carcass, “Just leave that there.” Ulva gave the retreating Asa a helpless look, then just blankly stared at the body at her feet until the huntress returned a few moments later to push a strip of dried meat into her hands. “Savour it,” Asa says, “It’s the last meat you’ll be seeing this week. Now, get to the sacred pond! Leave the work to me. Your mother will be right after you.” Ulva sank her teeth into the salty flesh, looked at the huntress with eyes the size of saucers, then sauntered towards the sacred pond, wondering what was important enough to get the usually morose Asa so excited.
jacobvanloon
