‘But you were walking all day too, and carrying the pack! Just let me rest a little and then I promise I will be able to make it the rest of the way.’
‘I have put the pack on my front. You can get on my back. I insist, I do not wish to wait. There is still much to do when we arrive at the cabin.’
Embla bit her lip. She didn’t want to be a burden or slow him down,but...‘I am heavy.’
‘I am strong.’
She smiled at that. ‘Fine, but do not drop me! I would rather walk out of here alone than be dropped—so tell me if I am too much.’ She groped in the darkness until she felt the solid wall of his back. He had crouched down, but his shoulders were still at her waist. She lifted her skirts a little, and then leaned forward against his broad back, positioning her legs either side of him.
Arms scooped around the backs of her knees and with a yelp she was lifted. He bounced her a little, adjusting her body to his, and she tried not to panic.
‘See, I have you,’ he said proudly, and strode forward as if he were carrying a child. It was the kindest thing he could have done.
Looping her arms around his neck, she grinned cheerfully into the darkness, glad that he could not see her delight. ‘I sometimes carry little Magnus like this. His legs get tired easily, and he whines to be carried.’
‘Ah, I see. That is why you talk of him so often, because you are the same.’
‘I did not whine to be carried!’
Runar chuckled and she found herself laughing with him. ‘I did not!’
The spot of light grew larger and the white rocky walls widened as the blue sky and snowy landscape beyond came into view. The frigid air whistled past them, and she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light. It was painfully bright, even though she knew it was as frail and wintry as it had always been. By the rich, inky blue of the sky she would guess it was nearing twilight.
‘Is your cabin far from here?’
Runar stepped further out onto the rocky ledge. The land was filled with snow-capped trees and gently sloping hills that flowed down to the deep fjord below.
It was beautiful, wild and lonely—just like the man who carried her, or at least, that was what she thought after their short time together.
‘There it is,’ he said and pointed to a spot a little further down. Nestled among trees, and in a flat plot of land, was a cabin and a barn. Covered in snow and ice, it was not the welcoming sight she had imagined.
Of course, she had not anticipated a fire to be blazing—as Runar lived alone. But she had not expected to see such a crumbling bag of sticks either. Going back into the cave seemed almost preferable.
Runar began trudging down the hillside towards it.
‘I can walk now,’ she said, feeling nervous at the perilous angle, and needing to see more clearly what she was facing.
He paused. ‘It is no trouble.’
‘I want to walk,’ she insisted, a little more sharply this time, and he silently obeyed, crouching down to gently place her back on her feet.
She walked a little behind him, gathering her cloak tightly around her to ward off the chill and her growing concerns. It didn’t take them long to reach the little clearing below, but being nearer only increased her fears.
‘It needs a few repairs,’ Runar said solemnly.
‘Was it hit by a snowslide recently?’ she asked, glancing anxiously back at the mountain. The slopes seemed gentler here, and were covered with well-established trees. Not the kind of landscape that courted such disasters.
He looked a little sheepish at her question. ‘Uh...no, it... Well, I only need a small section of it for myself. Constantly repairing areas that I never use... It seemed a waste of time.’
Unsure what to say to such a ridiculous statement, Embla turned away and began to walk towards her temporary new home. She didn’t even bother to look at the barn. She would face that monstrosity another day.
Thank Odin it was only for one season!
Up close, the state of the cabin did not improve. If anything, it became even more depressing. Piles of broken timber, tools, and animal muck lay scattered around the yard. What was once a prettily carved doorway had fallen completely into disrepair and hung loosely on its hinges.
There had been no attempt to clear a path to the door, so dirt and snow encrusted the entry, and was slowly rotting the timber beneath. It looked as if no general repairs or repainting had been done for several years. The cabin looked tired and neglected.
A hen flew out from the doorway, startling her, and she gave an appalled look at Runar.
