“Good stuff,” grunts Elof, but I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me or about the stew. His focus seems firmly planted in his food.
“I have a lot to learn,” I reply. “I pondered on our conversation earlier.”
“Indeed, you do,” says Ylvin. “The path of the Volva is purely about self-exploration, even if everyone thinks it’s about rituals and fancy words.”
I nod, blowing on a piece of deer before placing it on my tongue. The thing just melts in my mouth, releasing its hearty flavor. It’s like its own magic. I would never tell Ausveig, but Ari’s stew is on another level than hers. Another world.
“I’m interested,” says Ari, startling me. “How have you explored yourself in the woods?”
“Good question, Ari,” mumbles Ylvin with her mouth full. She points a spoon at him as she swallows. “It will help Kilda to formulate her experiences.”
“Thank you, lady staff-bearer.”
“Oh, stop it, you. I told you to call me Ylvin.”
“Thank you, Ylvin.”
What a sick bastard. Getting compliments from Ylvin for putting me on the spot. He turns his head to me with a smile that shows all his teeth. He couldn’t hide his glee if he tried. My shitstorm is his grandest pleasure. Me peeking at him was probably the peak of his existence. The highest point in his life.
Everyone turns to me. Even Elof takes a pause from his chewing and looks up. Ari nods rapidly, egging me on. He really is a sick man.
“Well, I… I needed to reconnect with my roots. To rediscover my role as a woman within nature. Like you said, Ylvin, we have all these social expectations that limit us in our expression.”
“Not bad,” says Ylvin. “It seems you’ve been paying attention.”
“Fascinating,” says Ari. “It does seem like you are taking in Ylvin’s teachings. But, may I ask another question?”
I turn to Ari with a punishing look. This bowl of stew is itching to land on his fucking head. Controlling the impulse to spill his own cooking on his stupid face should be considered its own form of magic, like cooking. His eyes are unmoving.
“Well, Ari,” I reply tensely. “I’m eating right now, so?—”
“Nonsense,” interrupts Ylvin. “Ask away, Ari, it’s only good for her.”
“Thank you, my lady sta?—”
“It’s Ylvin, Ari. For fuck’s sake.”
“Ylvin,” he finishes. His eyes haven’t moved from my face.
“Go on then,” I sigh while placing down my bowl demonstratively.
“Other than Ylvin’s wisdom, what helped you reflect today? Out in the woods alone, did anything in particular inspire you?”
Such a bastard. Blood simmers in my chest. Let me scratch his eyes out, rip at his hair, kick his balls. Freya will forgive.
“No, I wouldn’t say that,” I reply. “Or wait, now that you mention it. I did see a mangy crow, missing feathers, bald and ugly. It poked its little beak in the river, desperately trying to preen itself.”
Ari throws his head back and laughs, making Ylvin give him a sideways glance. Elof doesn’t react. He’s busy refilling his bowl.
“Right…” says Ylvin. “What did that crow make you reflect on?”
“How insignificant we are in the grand scheme of things. How we may feel like the center of the world, but we are all just a drop in the river, washed away in seconds.”
“Interesting reflections, dear,” says Ylvin. “Yet contradicted by how you got those reflections in the first place.”
“Oh?” I say. “I don’t understand. How so?”
“Please explain, Ylvin,” says Ari, keeping that smug fucking grin of his.
