Clearing his throat, Harald opens the ritual. “Tonight we open the channel to see the divine. May you all find the answers you seek.” Rasha pulls her hand away, opening her arms to the ceiling of the Hall where the stars and the never ending sky look down on us.
Rasha takes a basket holding little silver bells and passes them out with the help of a few younger girls. The ringing calls the Seidr from Vanheim to open the celestial gateways, letting the magic of Yule flow freely, or so the myths say.
It isn’t lost on me that Rasha left the head table in the opposite direction of Joanna and me, so she’ll end her walk with us. The sour tang of hot goat’s milk mixes with the lingering smell of earthy holly and warm nutmeg. Taking out my own set of bone carved runes, I brush off the table, and Joanna scoops a sheep heart out of a bucket being passed around.
“Have you been keeping each other company?” Rasha murmurs against my ear while she drops the last bell on our table.
“Joanna has been enlightening.” I dare to look up at those beautiful blue eyes as I slide down the bench so she can sit.
“I’m going to find a less awkward couple to read my runes with,” Joanna says and takes her cup of goat’s milk with her.
“If you like, I can ask her to stay?” Rasha’s eyes dart between Joanna and I.
“Sit. Joanna is lovely, but I came tonight for you.” She scoots in next to me. “Whose idea was it to come to the forge this afternoon?”I ask, unable to move on. Rasha’s knees knock into mine, and I take an easier breath knowing she’s next to me.
“We fought in the yard after he dragged me away from the Yule log. Everyone was watching. He backed down and wanted to show me what he considered to be his offering,” she explains. We both drink the goat’s milk, cleaning our pallet for what is to come, and I move my legs to sit astride the bench. “I didn’t know where we were headed until it was too late. I put us in a shitty position.” The strain of her voice spurs my hand to find her thigh under the table.
“It’s alright. We gave nothing away.” Assuring the actions between her and Harald bear no weight, I rub her leg in slow circles, giving me a moment to look at her unapologetically.
Her beautiful face is painted with delicate lines and dots. All her luscious, red hair is braided around her head and down her back. Snuffing out the thoughts of undoing those braids and watching her unravel underneath me, I take the squishy sheep’s heart and lift it to her mouth.
She doesn’t hesitate to let her lips fall open to take a bite. Deep red blood drips out, coating her chin. I steady the flow with my finger so it doesn’t drip down her cream dress.
“Do you really want to know what the gods have in store for you?” I ask in trepidation.
She holds out her hand, and I drop the bloody sheep’s heart in her palm. She fights the urge to wipe her chin by pressing her red lips together.
“I do. I need to know if I am on a fool’s errand.” She brings the heart to my own lips for me to take a bite. The muscle is tough and porous, making blood coat my mouth with only one bite. Swallowing it, I move the cups and heart pieces away to lay out my runes.
“The runes talk in riddles,” I say, though I know she is smart enough to know this. She lets a laugh out under her breath and flicks her mesmerizing gaze my way.
“Drop the runes in the bowl, Shaw. I didn’t take you for a man who fears the future.”
I refrain from telling her it’s not the future I fear, rather it’s whatI’ve done in the past coming to a head that frightens me. And our two paths are about to collide in a way where only one of us can see the end, which gives me pause.
“I’ll do it then.” She takes the little pile of bones and inspects them. “These are beautiful; where did you get them? All the ones we prepared are carved in wood.”
“These are my own.”
“And the bones?” Her fingers trace the lines that I carved years ago after filing them smooth.
“A secret I haven’t decided to tell.”
She releases a breath and turns to the table, putting the bone runes in the cup that is coated with leftover goat’s milk. Covering the top with her hand and shaking the cup, her eyes close, lost in whatever prayer she has been taught. A compelling need to touch her radiates through my own bones and muscles until I reach for her back, and she gracefully leans into me.
Letting her hand go, I watch as she scatters the runes over the table, and they roll through drops of sheep’s blood. The thick, white milk mixes with the blackish red blood in a pattern I see immediately. Rasha stands to look down at the future I warned her she didn’t want to see.
“Shaw,” her voice is eerily quiet. Standing next to her, my body shields her from the conversations around us, people detailing what they see in their own runes and laughing about who will die next in the winter’s chill.
“I see it.”
“It’s the same shape of the bow rune that Aslaug showed me. But this…” Her voice breaks as she runs her finger over the splatters of red, covering the rune for death and deer.
“It’s my future. We ate the same heart,” I say, trying to make the outcome better.
“So if I choose you, we are going to die because of the reindeer herd? Shaw that doesn’t make any sense, unless…” Her head whips around the room, looking for what I am afraid to ask. “Where’s Harald?”
“He’s looking for you,” I whisper against her skin. “You shoulddo this with him.” I hate saying it, but I need to know if her outcome will change.
