Dark skies above the looming bridge.
She stands tall and proud, she waits, hands folded on the hilt of her sword.
The Gatekeeper of Helheim, Protector, Guardian. She keeps the living from the land of the dead, allows those who have passed to travel beyond, to the lands of Hel. She stands strong as she has done for so long, aeons of wisdom and knowledge in her gaze. She guards that pathway, she guides the transition from one side to the next, she leads from one place to another.
Two black dogs sit to attention at her side, faithful companions to her, and to the Lady of the realm beyond. They, like she, watch. They are not always there, they roam freely between the two, but when they are with her, they watch, and they wait, steadfast and unfailing.
The sharp scent of pine and snow of the forest, the tang of iron and the icy bite of a star studded winter night. She is iron, she is stardust, she is Death’s Lady, ever vigilant, guarding the realm of those who have gone before. She has greeted ancestors, and will greet descendants yet to come, she will protect, she will guard.