“No, he didn’t hurt me. This is from something else. Joanna, I need your help.” Gauging by her expression, she must think he forced himself on me and left me for dead out here in the snow, but neither of us will admit the threat to our bodies out loud.
“What are you doing at the gate?” she hisses, glancing over to the men pushing the massive door shut. They still haven’t seen us, which is a good thing. It means they haven’t seen the wounded lynx either.
“I heard fighting, so I went to see. I found a sign from the gods instead.”
Joanna follows me back toward where I left the lynx. I can count on her quiet footsteps and her ability to blend into her surroundings without worry. We have worked together in all seasons, hunting in the mountains, and are able to read one another without speaking.
“Rasha, I pity the position everyone has put you in with Harald,” she whispers, and my gait slows to listen. Pity is not what Iwant to elicit out of my friend. As happy as I am to have her accompany me to Yule, I also don’t want her to be bartered off in the same way. Joanna is a huntress, like I am, and we are tied to the mountains. It is where we thrive.
“Don’t pity me,” I answer. “You can’t tell anyone what we are about to do. Promise?”
Joanna agrees, and I hold my arm back to keep her from walking right into the giant cat. I see her amber eyes before I see her body and let out a sigh of relief. A strange hope settles over my like a fresh tattoo sinking into my skin. By helping this animal, maybe my plea to the gods will be answered.
“Look out!” Joanna screams, and I wince. The lynx musters her strength to bare her teeth with a deep growl.
“No, no, Joanna. It’s alright. We are bringing her back to my room. She’s wounded.” I talk Joanna down, stroking her shivering arms to turn her focus on me, her friend, and not the lynx who could gut us out of pure fear.
“I get not wanting to marry Harald, but is harboring a wild animal going to help you?” she asks, rubbing her numb hands together.
I unravel my hair from the antler and holly crown and toss it high, over the wall. The last thing we need is someone recognizing me as we smuggle the cat into my room.
“Freya’s animal is a lynx, and I made an offering of blood on the Yule log,” I reply, moving closer to the lynx. In awe of her regality, I crouch low and hold my hand out, hoping she’ll sniff me. We train horses and dogs in a similar way, so maybe it will work for a lynx who wants to rip my leg from my hip.
“Please, let me help you. Joanna is a bit scared, but she’s a good person,” I say, scooting closer to her.
“I am not scared,” I hear Joanna sputter.
Hot, feline breath comes in heavy pants, and I have an idea. Untying my cloak, I spread it out on the snow and pat the middle.
“What happened to her?” Joanna’s timid voice comes from over my shoulder.
“Maybe the men attacked her, or she attacked them?”
“So you went to investigate? That is the opposite of what you should be doing,” she chastises, ignoring what I said about making an offering.
“I thought it might be men from our clan suffering.” I try to find a suitable excuse.
“You did not. You are looking for an out. I know you,” she shoots back. I stand up with the edge of my cloak in my hands and let my face fall in an honest expression to my friend.
“Please, help me? If I have to choose between freedom and saving everyone, I will save everyone by marrying Harald. You should know me better than to question my commitment,” I say, laying out the cloak so we can carry the lynx through the stronghold, but it will look like we are only bringing in extra blankets. Joanna rolls her shoulders and sighs.
“If she bites me, I’m going to kill her,” she says, and the lynx hisses at the other end of the spread out cloak.
“We are all going to be calm,” I reply, patting the cloak again, hoping the lynx understands the message. Joanna backs away, and I hold my hand out, trying with every ounce of will to lure the cat closer.
The edge of the village is deathly quiet while the three of us face off. Chilly winds and errant snowflakes take the hint and pause in the onslaught of winter around us. My breath stills in my lungs, and I stare at the tired, wounded cat. A million thoughts swirl in my mind. The most obvious is that Joanna is right, and I am purposefully causing a problem. I know this will piss Jorvik and Harald off. Maybe enough that they allow me to live in the mountains like the heathen I am?
Another, smaller thought sparks behind the many guilty and chaotic ones. Freya heard my prayer; she heard my call and sent me her lynx. A sign from the gods that the fight for our clan and our lands isn’t over just because Harald says so. Maybe this once fearsome cat is going to…I watch her slowly sniff the cloak before laying down in a huff of fur. Well, maybe I am going mad.
“On three?” Joanna asks, and I nod, moving to the front of the cloak. We fold the edges in and count down to lift her solid body.
“What is going to happen to us if we get caught?” Her question comes out tight from her sudden exertion.
“Nothing because we aren’t going to get caught. This is an extra blanket,” I say, looking back to see the twinkle in her eye as we walk by the Yule log. The flames have fully engulfed the wide piece of tree trunk, making the air thick with smoke and char.
We pick up the pace and trek the way I remember through the village streets. Men and women are everywhere, but no one looks at us. With four clans coming together, there are many strange faces.
“Are there stairs to your room?” Joanna asks.
