I am going to vomit.
She holds back the bile in her mouth.
The people of Toftlund have been drinking bits of this person. No wonder they are ill.
As she gets all but the head onto the land, a fragment of his skin sloughs off into her hand. Avina heaves so intensely that she tastes the biscuit she ate earlier.
Don’t be sick. Don’t be sick. Don’t be sick. Don’t be sick.
She tosses the chunk of skin onto land, shivering when it leaves her palm. Just as she manages to set the decomposing body onto the bank, a great roar rumbles behind her in the trees. She turns in time to see Sigvid burst through some bushes with the Ulv hot on his tail.
“Look!” He hollers, waving his arms. “We discovered what you have been guarding!”
The Ulv snarls, revealing teeth as sharp as swords. It lunges at him in time for Sigvid to dive out of the way, his axes unsheathing in the roll. With a roar, the Ulv stomps around in a circle while the Salt Prince maintains his position underneath its belly.
Avina returns to the remains, nauseous from the smell and mushy appearance. Now that she can see the details up close, she can determine the person is male. Judging by the armor, he must have been a warrior. He seems young, a boy not much older than Thora.
Could we have solved Sven’s mystery, too?
She catches a flicker of metal under his arm and removes a medallion roughly engraved with a protection rune from his neck.
Sigvid will know what this necklace means.
Tucking the medal in the pocket of her gown, she searches for him. A horrifying realization sets in as she can only hear Ulv’s snarls.
“Sigvid!” She bellows over the clearing despite the act drawing attention to her location.
The Ulv snorts in her direction, his paws pounding against the earth as he shifts to the river. She creeps away from the corpse while the monster sniffs at the frosted grass, stalking where she stood.
Splayed out on the ground lies Sigvid. She bolts across the plain, careful to stay on her toes. When she reaches him, he is groaning. Deep gouges crisscross his shoulder and back from the Ulv’s deadly nails. Blood stains the grass underneath him.
He flinches when her hand brushes his chest.
“Shhh. I need to get you out of here.” She touches his hand, and he vanishes.
With great difficulty and much praying to the Briny God for strength, she shoulders his weight. She shifts him out of range of the wolf monster, still sniffling near the corpse.
“Did you see that?” He groans through his wounds. “It did not attack the remains. I bet that is the treasure it is guarding. Fuck, that means this is not an accident, and this is a murder.” He whispers to Avina as he twists his neck to eye the creature.
She nods, having the same thought that the killer summoned the Ulv. “Let’s put some distance, and then I’ll bandage you.”
Once the Ulv’s roars and frantic pantings fade into the forest, she helps him settle onto the ground.
“Here,” she tosses him the medallion, “this was on the corpse.”
“Fuck,” he rests his head against the birch trunk at his back. “He was one of my Drengr in training. Kar’s son Sven is the only one missing.”
The reality of Sven’s gruesome fate hangs thick like a storm cloud between them. Sigvid bundles his torn shirt, slamming it to the ground. Avina gapes, unsure if she will grow accustomed to his muscled chest and inked black art.
When his cool eyes find her gawking, she swiftly begins cleaning his wounds.
“Who would kill Sven?” She asks. “And then drag his body up here?”
“I have a notion.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think?” The snarl he emits forces her to jerk her hands away from his wounds. “Thrain or one of his goons. This whole incident reeks of my brother.” His knuckles whiten over the medallion.
