‘I understand.’
Her soft reply was enough to ease the tension in his shoulders, and he sighed with relief. ‘Besides, I am not good with people.’
‘You have been good to me,’ she said, and he felt as if she had proclaimed him a king. They walked a little further on, and she added, ‘I am sorry if I seemed ungrateful for your help earlier. I was disappointed about not going home... I will miss it.’
Runar tried to imagine how she must feel. Embla liked people, she spoke of the Jarl’s children with great affection, and he believed her when she said they thought of her as a second mother.
‘I imagine you feel as I once did...’ he said, unsure if it were wise to confess so much, but then chose to do it anyway. He wanted them to be at ease with each other, as they had been before; it had been...nice.
‘When my father took me raiding, I was excited at first, curious about what we would see and do. But the swaying of the boat made me sick, and everyone was so tightly packed, I wondered if I would ever get the stench of them out of my nose. I could not sleep or eat without someone breathing over my shoulder or snoring in my ear, and I hated it. Nothing improved when we arrived. The landscape was so different to what I was used to, the animals, the customs, even the language of the men we killed was strange to me, and I wanted nothing more than to be back home in the mountains. Familiarity is comforting, and change can be frightening.’
He could hear the smile in her answer. ‘Thank you for understanding. At least I will not have as difficult a time as you had. I will not have to fight or kill to survive. Now I feel silly for making such a fuss. I am sure your cabin will be lovely, and I look forward to warming my toes in front of a cosy fire.’
Dread pooled in his stomach and began to slosh from side to side as if he were back on that leaky boat.
‘You will be warm,’ he mumbled, because he doubted anyone would ever describe his cabin aslovely.
Chapter Six
‘Is that daylight?’ Embla asked hopefully.
There was a pinprick of blue further ahead, and she prayed they would soon leave this rabbit’s warren of rock. She missed the sun, she missed knowing the time of day, and even though she usually bemoaned the weak light of winter, she would gladly have it back in a heartbeat now.
‘Yes, that’s where we leave the caves, but it is further than it looks,’ replied Runar.
The last of the torches had been burned long ago, and they had walked in endless darkness for what felt like an age. Embla had clutched on to Runar’s cloak as he guided the way, oddly feeling safe despite having no idea of where they walked. Perhaps because he had insisted on only using torches for the trickier parts of their journey, and it was clear he knew this labyrinth thoroughly. So many times, he had covered her head with his hand as she navigated the smaller tunnels, or talked her through each step with the utmost care, aware of every overhanging rock or crack in their path.
If he believed they did not need torches during this part of the journey, then she would take comfort in that, as the path ahead must be easier than it had been previously.
They had slithered like snakes through tiny fractures and gaps, climbed up and down countless ledges and slopes. Walked through many chambers, some as large as the Jarl’s Hall, and others so tiny they had had to wriggle through them on their hands and knees. But whenever she had grown anxious of the tight spaces, Runar had patiently reassured her that she would never get stuck or lost in his presence. Maybe it was to distract her from her growing panic, but he had talked to her constantly, telling her about the years he had spent playing in the caves and all the interesting things to be found here. As he spoke, she could easily imagine a wild dark-haired boy running through the caves hooting and laughing at the flickering shadows his torch made on the stone.
One thing about his stories was glaringly obvious to Embla; he was always alone. He never mentioned any other children, and when he mentioned his parents, it was only to describe some skill that they had taught him, like hunting or finding his way through the caves.
No wonder Gudvangen seemed overwhelming in comparison. However, he didn’t seem to mind it. He spoke fondly of his childhood, and even promised to take her to a special cave one day. In it were some drawings left by a family who had lived here many generations ago. Regretfully he explained that it was too far out of the way for them to visit today, but that he could take her another time if she wished.
Embla hadn’t replied and had instead directed the conversation to something else. Otherwise, she would have had to admit that she would happily never return to these caves. Although, she supposed she would have to in the spring.
Spring.
It seemed so far away. The boys would grow another foot by then.
She hoped they would not worry about her. It pained her to think of them upset. Maybe Gertrud would lie, and say she had arrived late...and then...she had left to visit her mother perhaps? Except the snowslide... Someone would have seen it, and they would immediately presume her dead.
Would the people of Gudvangen cry for her? Would Gertrud?
She leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh. Runar also stopped, realising by the light tug of his cloak that she had decided to rest.
It was embarrassing how many times she had done this. Although, she always tried to hold off for as long as she could—waiting until she was about to lose her breath, or fearing she might faint if she took another step. They hadn’t eaten anything since their morning stew, and they drank sparingly from the water they had collected from the snow bank before leaving the cavern.
Embla fought the dizziness with deep breaths, and when Sten nudged her fingers with his wet nose, she gave him a light pat.
‘At least I have hope now. I swear I cannot tell if my eyes are open or closed!’ She laughed wearily. ‘Can we pause a moment?’
There were some shuffling sounds and then Runar said, ‘Get on my back.’
‘What? No!’
‘You have been walking all day and are tired. Let me carry you for the last part of it.’ His voice was firm but kind, and it made her want to weep.
