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For Sie
It had been luck, really, that she had found him. Reykr was a man whom she held very little respect; he was another game she had won, and the prize had been her daughter. While she could have relied on him, seeing him once more had reminded her of all of the misdeeds committed. Unwilling to carry the ghost with her, she had used him as she had before.
The stag weighed more than she did, but Siv was a strong woman. She fashioned a drag from two long sticks, using what leather she had left from the hearg. It had been a long journey and her supplies had become remarkably limited, but if she managed to make her way into a pack she could begin leatherwork again. Certainly, at least, ensuring her own survival would become easier. It was her daughter she worried for, though she was a woman more than capable of surviving on her own.
With Draugr at her heel, the woman found the borders after some searching. The girl’s scent had not been identifiable, but the plant she had used was—it blew from the ocean, masked by salt and the oncoming threat of winter. The sky above was gray, dark, and threatening snow. Siv brushed off the dead leaves from the deer and rose, waiting.