Now Kritka was perched on her left shoulder, gnawing on a hard heel of bread, as he had for hours on end. Her temples had begun to throb earlier in the day, and the incessant gnashing of his teeth was not helping one bit.
Must you do that?Hekla sent through their bond, stepping over a fallen tree branch while dodging an oozing black mushroom.
Do what?asked Kritka, rotating the bread between his little paws.
You’ve been eating all day!
The squirrel assessed her with beady black eyes.Kritka must bulk up for winter.At Hekla’s bewildered look, he clarified,To keep warm and fed during cold months.
She sighed, then batted at a brittle pine branch, sending parched needles skittering to the snow-dusted forest floor.
Kritka senses Protector is angry.
As I’ve told you a hundred times before, I’m not the Protector.
Are Protector’s mates not chasing to her liking?
She nearly tripped over a rock. “What?” she demanded aloud, causing several heads in their party to turn her way. “Nothing.” Hekla waved her hands and waited until their attention drifted elsewhere.
What mates?she demanded inwardly.
The red one and the one who lingers behind.
Hekla glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Gunnar.White teeth flashed against his black beard, and she quickly looked away. A few warriors ahead of her strode Eyvind, bundled in his red cloak. Hekla turned her glare upon the squirrel.
If mates are not chasing to Protector’s liking, perhaps Protector should encourage them more,Kritka carried on, his russet tail twitching.
Malla’s tits, rodent, what are you going on about?
When a female squirrel goes into heat, she leads the males on a chase,Kritka explained.Many males take up the hunt. But the one who gets there first performs the mating strut.
Ahead of them, Eyvind held a pine bough up to allow their group to pass. Hekla’s heartbeat quickened as she neared, and when he opened his mouth as though to speak, her eyes darted anywhere but on him. She heard his frustrated breath. Felt his searing gaze upon her cheek. He’d tried half a dozen times to explain himself to her, and each time, a hot panicky feeling arose within. She’d fled like a coward. Hekla knew she was being childish—that she couldn’t avoid him forever. Still, she didn’t exhale until she’d ducked beneath the branch and put space between them.
Protector’s heart beats rather quickly near the red mate,observed Kritka.
Hekla’s prickly defenses rose in an instant.He broke my trust. He’s betrothed to another woman.
Kritka was silent save for the scrape of his teeth against hard bread.Kritka does not understand. Is it not natural for males to mate with many?
Her irritation reached a breaking point. Hekla plucked Kritka from her shoulder, then whirled on a startled Gunnar. “I need a break from him,” she grumbled, handing him the squirrel.
But even without the squirrel on her shoulder, the throb at her temples did not subside.
When Hekla tripped over a moss-covered stone for the third time that hour, she raised her hand, bringing their party to a stop.
“It seems as good a place as any to set camp for the night,” she muttered, looking around.
There wasn’t truly agoodplace to camp in these gods forsaken woods, but the relieved looks among their crew made Hekla glad of her decision. Each day that she led this crew of warriors, her confidence grew a little more. She knew this job better than anyone else, and taking full control of it felt like a natural thing.
Hekla dropped onto the forest floor and pulled provisions from her sack. They were down to salt cod rations, and as Hekla chewed on the tough, briny meat, she tried to imagine it was the kind of fare Silla had once cooked for the Bloodaxe Crew.
Eventually, their group split off—some warriors fetching deadwood for their nightly fires, others searching for water. For the first two nights, Eyvind had stayed up, ready to produce flames with his Ashbringer skill should the mist attack. But by the third night, the man was practically sleeping on his feet, and it was clear this setup would not work anymore. That night, they’d lit a perimeter of small campfires around their bedrolls. Two men sat on watch, buckets of water on hand to douse errant sparks. It was a fine balance to maintain, keeping themselves protected without setting the woods aflame.
Gunnar soon ambled back into their makeshift camp, a bucket of water in each hand and Kritka perched on his shoulder. The squirrel clutched a portion of salt cod between his tiny paws, and Hekla suppressed the urge to remind Gunnar their priority was to make these portions last—not fatten up a squirrel for the winter.
“Came across a pool,” Gunnar said, a gleam in his dark eyes. “Perhaps we could return to it later,alone.”
Hekla’s flat gaze was all the answer Gunnar should need. He was remarkably persistent, as was Hekla’s hesitation to trample this new, bright version of him. She knew she ought to give the man an answer to his marriage proposal and put an end to this, yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. And though she hated to admit it, a small part of her enjoyed being at the center of Gunnar’s and Eyvind’s ridiculous attentions.
