She Wolf

by Dan Smith

  Ylva stared at Cathryn.

  ‘I know I’m right.’ Cathryn picked up her bowl. ‘One of the benefits of having lived as long as I have is that occasionally I’m right about something.’ Steam rolled around her head as she drained the last of her soup. ‘Ugh.’ She pulled a face at the grim taste, and wiped her mouth. ‘I don’t usually offer advice, and almost never take it, but you should know that revenge is a sly beast. Holding something as dark as that in your heart is like grabbing Jormungandr the World Serpent by the tail – it’s likely to turn around and swallow you whole . . . or spit poison in your face and let you suffer. Nothing will bring them back, Young Wolf. Not even revenge.’ She looked over at the shape beneath the blanket. ‘The best thing you can do is bite down on your pain and wait for it to soften. What’s gone is gone, and there’s no way to bring it back.’

  6

  Shield-Maiden

  Cathryn kept her fur cloak on until the fire had warmed her through. When she shrugged it off on to the back of her chair, she revealed a tough leather tunic beneath. Across her stomach, she carried a knife big enough to skin a bear, and from one side of her belt hung a short-handled axe. Together with the sword she had left by the door, Cathryn was more than well armed.

  She had told Ylva that she got by ‘trading this and that’, but Ylva was certain Cathryn wasn’t a trader. The way she was dressed, the weapons she carried, she looked more like a warrior. A shield-maiden. Swords were expensive and difficult to forge, and the only people who owned them were those rich enough to have one made, or those who took them from the dead fingers of a defeated enemy.

  Cathryn didn’t look like a rich woman.

  Bron hadn’t spoken a word since entering the hut. He communicated with Cathryn using his hand-speak, making signs and gestures in the air, but he kept his eyes on Ylva. He watched her like a hawk watches the forest from above.

  The night limped on and they each stayed in their seats, not speaking much at first, and then not at all.

  Eventually Cathryn fell asleep sitting upright in the chair, and as soon as she started snoring, Bron’s frown deepened further. He rolled his eyes at Ylva, as if the sound annoyed him, then went to the far side of the room where he took two blankets from the shelf and spread them on the dirt floor close to the fire. Satisfied with his makeshift bed, he lay down on it, hugged his fur cloak around his shoulders, and closed his eyes.

  As she sat listening to Cathryn’s snoring, and watching her enormous chest rising and falling, Ylva wondered if the woman might help her find the three-fingered man.

  Or take us somewhere safe. Geri sat up and nuzzled Ylva for attention. He pressed his nose against her arm and lifted a paw on to her knee.

  ‘Maybe,’ Ylva whispered as she stroked the soft fur between his ears. ‘Maybe. But I don’t like the look of that boy. I don’t like the way he watches me.’

  Geri opened his mouth, letting his tongue loll out to one side. You’re afraid of him?

  ‘Of course I’m not afraid of him.’ She leant down to put her face against Geri’s neck. ‘I just don’t like the look of him. He concerns me.’

  Just after midnight, Ylva quietly pushed back her chair to stand and stretch her legs. She edged around the table, taking tiny steps so her boots wouldn’t scuff the floor, and went to where Mother lay beneath the blanket.

  She sank to the floor beside the body and sat with her legs crossed, placing the bow within easy reach. Geri sighed and curled himself beside her.

  ‘Tomorrow will be the first of many long days,’ Ylva said as she stroked his fur. ‘I’ll need you to watch over me.’

  She glanced over at Bron to see that he was awake and watching her. He didn’t move or blink, but eventually he closed his eyes again, so Ylva waited a few minutes then put one hand on the shape beneath the blanket.

  ‘I’ll avenge you,’ she whispered. ‘I promise.’

  Ylva sat dry-eyed and motionless, trying to stay awake because she knew the Mares would bring her bad dreams. But after time, her back slumped, her head dropped, and sleep took her.

  7

  Hard Earth

  Cathryn and Bron were not in the hut when she woke.

  Ylva was curled on the dirt floor beside Mother’s cold dead body. It took a second to remember where she was and what had happened, and then it crashed over her like a flood of icy water. She sat up and grabbed the bow, startling Geri awake. Blankets lay around her, as if someone had tried to make her comfortable. She panicked, getting to her feet and putting her hand to her throat, but her scarf was still fastened tight.

  Light leaked in through the shutters, and there were fresh logs over the embers in the fire pit. A faint and regular scraping came from outside.

  Ylva went to open the door, cold air stinging her nostrils. The morning was still half-dark, as if the world was in need of a clean. Leaden clouds hung low, and mist whispered through the trees. On the track, the surface snow had crystallized and become a layer of crusted jewels.

  Two horses were tethered beside the hut, one chestnut, one golden. Both had their heads down as they ate grain from a wooden trough. The sound of their satisfied crunching was soothing – it reminded Ylva of cold mornings in the village at home, feeding the animals and preparing the horses.

  As she approached, with Geri at her heels as always, the sweet-smelling golden horse looked up with a lazy turn of its head. Its shaggy hide was beautiful, rippling with shades of autumn, its mane and tail like silver. One fetlock was a single white sock. But what caught Ylva’s attention was the symbol painted on to its flank; a white circle, with two tails curled inwards at the bottom.

  The chestnut horse was painted with the same symbol.

  Sometimes the villagers at home used the design on their animals, or wore a similar-shaped charm on a necklace to ward off dangerous magic. Whoever Cathryn was, wherever she came from, she didn’t just know about Ylva’s gods – she also used familiar symbols.

  ‘You’re beautiful.’ Ylva ran the flat of her palm down the animal’s muscular neck. Soothed by the creature’s calm nature, she wanted to stay longer, but the faint and regular scraping she’d heard before continued, so she went to investigate. Her boots crunched the frozen crust of snow as she headed behind the hut where there was a patch of clear land before the trees grew thick and wild up the mountain slope.

  Cathryn and Bron were there, both of them with shovels in their hands, digging in the black soil.

  When they noticed Ylva, they stopped.

  Cathryn jabbed the tip of the shovel into the ground and leant on the handle. ‘We put the man in the ground already. Deep, so the animals won’t find him.’ She looked at the other grave. ‘This one is for your mother and—’

  ‘I should do it.’ Ylva considered the pile of dark soil. ‘It’s my duty.’

  ‘Huh,’ Cathryn said. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ She pulled the tip of the shovel from the dirt and held it out. ‘You can finish while we get breakfast.’

  Ylva came forward to take the shovel, but didn’t start digging until Cathryn and Bron had left.

  Geri sat in silence beside the grave while Ylva dug the hard earth. He stared up at the mountain and didn’t make a sound, but it was comforting to know he was there. No one understood Ylva the way Geri did.

  When the grave was deep enough, Ylva climbed out and brushed the dirt from her breeches.

  ‘There’s warm ale,’ Cathryn said as Ylva went back inside the hut. ‘And hot stew.’ She was standing by the fire, stirring the blackened pot. Bron was sitting at the table, shovelling stew into his mouth with a wooden spoon.

  ‘You’re sweating from all that digging,’ Cathryn said. ‘Why don’t you take off your scarf?’

  Ylva put a hand to her neck and bunched the wool in her fist. ‘No.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ Cathryn ladled steaming stew into a clay bowl and placed it on a flat wooden plate along with a large chunk of cheese. She tore hard bread from a broken loaf to put beside it and held the meal out
for Ylva. ‘The bread is stale but there’s enough there for two people. It’ll fill you up.’

  When Ylva didn’t take it, Cathryn sighed and her face fell into a sad expression. ‘Child, I know there are things you want to do, but there’s nothing to be gained by doing them on an empty stomach. Sooner or later, everyone must eat.’ She extended the plate again. ‘Please.’

  Mother would have said the same thing but in a different way. If Ylva was going to head into the wilderness on the trail of the three-fingered man, it made sense to do it on a stomach full of hot food. And a meal like this didn’t come along every day.

  ‘Survival always comes first, isn’t that what your mother told you?’ It was as if Cathryn had read her mind. ‘Eat now, and then we’ll see she gets a proper burial. You have my word on that.’

  When Ylva still didn’t come forward, Cathryn sighed and put the plate on the edge of the table. She filled her own bowl and sat down to eat.

  ‘You slept hard,’ she said between mouthfuls. ‘You were shivering like a wet dog but Bron put blankets over you to keep you warm.’

  The boy scowled and concentrated on his food.

  ‘The stew is good,’ Cathryn said. ‘If you don’t take it, I think Bron will eat what I put out for you. He’s as skinny as a sapling but he eats like a wolf in winter.’

  Despite everything, Ylva’s stomach grumbled and the smell of the food made her mouth water. She wanted to not need anything from anyone, for it to be just her and Geri against the world, but the stew smelt a lot better than the soup did last night, and she was sure it wasn’t just because she was hungry – it was because Cathryn was a much better cook than the owner of the hut had been.

  Take it. Geri nudged against her leg. You need to be strong.

  Ylva’s stomach rumbled again and she finally caved in. She pulled the plate towards her before snatching it up and taking it to the other table.

  She wanted the food to be tasteless. The bottom had fallen out of her world, and it was wrong that anything should not be affected by the horror of what had happened. But the food was delicious, and that made her feel small and unimportant, and even more determined to retain Mother’s memory.

  The world might forget, but she never would.

  8

  No Tears

  After eating, Ylva went to the pile of blankets and spread one flat on the floor.

  ‘Let us help you with that.’ Cathryn pulled Bron to his feet.

  ‘No, I don’t want—’

  ‘You can’t move her on your own,’ Cathryn said.

  Ylva glared at her, angry because she was right. ‘Fine.’

  Every time either Cathryn or Bron touched Mother, Ylva’s skin crawled as if she were covered in insects, but she allowed them to help lift her body on to the blanket and wrap it around her.

  They carried the bundle out to the back of the hut and lowered it into the ground.

  Ylva took the bone-handled knife she had found and placed it on Mother’s chest. It would protect her in the life that came next.

  ‘Do you want to say some words?’ Cathryn asked.

  Ylva shook her head and began to shovel the black soil into the grave. The dirt was rich and dark and damp. It dropped on to the blanket with the sound of heavy rain.

  Geri stood at the end of the hole, looking in, and when Mother was gone Ylva fell to her knees beside him. ‘No tears. This isn’t the time.’ She put her arms around her best friend and hugged him to her. ‘Don’t let me cry. I have to be strong. Mother is with the gods now, and I’ll see her again one day.’

  Cathryn came to stand behind her and reached out a hand. She hesitated, then touched her fingers to Ylva’s shoulder, but Ylva shrugged her away.

  Cathryn stepped back, letting her hand fall to her side, and they remained that way, in the cold, for a long while.

  After time, Ylva pressed her hand to the earth in front of her. ‘I promise I’ll come for you.’ She stood and turned to Cathryn. ‘Thank you for your help.’

  ‘What do you plan to do now?’ Cathryn followed her back into the hut. ‘Where will you go?’

  Ylva picked up the bow and the quiver of iron-tipped arrows.

  ‘You’re not thinking of going out there alone, child,’ Cathryn said. ‘You can’t. Not with revenge in your heart.’

  Ylva looked up at her.

  ‘You are, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes.’ Cathryn swept a hand towards the dark stain on the floorboards. ‘You’re going after the people who did this.’

  ‘It’s my duty. It’s what the gods expect of me; my destiny.’

  ‘You think this is destiny? That the Norns pulled strings to make this happen to you?’ Cathryn shook her head. ‘What happened here wasn’t any kind of destiny; it was murder, and no one expects you to avenge it. Not even your gods.’

  ‘A murder must always be avenged,’ Ylva said. ‘It’s how it is.’

  ‘So you kill him, then one of his people kills you? Is that how it is? And who will avenge your death?’

  ‘What else am I going to do?’ Ylva collected her satchel and put it over her shoulder. By the firepit, she crouched to take a pinch of black ash from the edge of the fire. She put it in the palm of her left hand and spat on to it, using a finger to stir it into a dark paste that she spread around each eye. It would help to soften the hard glare of the snow, but it would also make her look fierce, like a Viking.

  ‘Don’t be so stupid, child, it’s your duty to live, not to die. Do you have any idea how far we are from anything?’ Cathryn said.

  ‘I’m not stupid.’ Ylva made more of the paste and drew lines running downwards from both corners of each eye, as if she were crying black tears.

  ‘This hut is the warmest place within two days’ ride. The nearest you’ll find is the settlement at Dunholm. There’s not even so much as a farmstead in this wilderness.’ Cathryn blocked the door. ‘I can’t let you walk out into that.’

  ‘You can’t stop me.’ Ylva tucked the bedroll under her arm and clicked her tongue at Geri. The dog came to her heel but looked up at Cathryn with doleful eyes.

  Ylva knew he wanted to stay – Help us. Protect us – and a small part of her wanted that too, but she had a job to do. She had a duty.

  ‘No,’ she said to him. ‘They can’t tell me what to do. How can they stop me? Are they going to kill me? Are they going to kill me the way those people killed Mother and—?’

  Cathryn reached out but stopped short of touching her. ‘Who are you talking to, child? Of course we won’t hurt you.’

  ‘Then get out of my way and let me go. I can’t stay here, so I have to go out there. I have to do something. I have to go somewhere.’

  ‘Then come with me,’ Cathryn said. ‘Come with us.’ She gestured towards Bron. ‘We’ll take care of you. If you go out there, you’ll get yourself killed. Think about what your mother said; survival always comes first. There’s a safe place we can take you that—’

  ‘She also told me it’s better to be fearless than faint of heart.’

  Cathryn’s expression softened. ‘But not better to be dead.’

  ‘I have to avenge her.’ Ylva’s throat was tight. ‘It’s the way we do things. It’s expected. And it’s all I have left, so if I die, then I die, and I don’t care. You can put me in a saga and tell people how stupid I was.’

  ‘I never understood why you Danes love fighting and fame so much. Why don’t you let us take you somewhere safe? We have a place where— ’

  Bron nudged Cathryn and glared at her. He made the gesture he had used before – his hand by his waist, turning it as if he were throwing something away – and Ylva knew what it meant. It was his hand-speak, his way of saying ’no’. But it felt to Ylva as if it meant so much more.

  Get rid of her. Let her go. Let her die.

  Well, that was just fine by her. ‘I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.’ Ylva stood in front of Cathryn and made herself as tall as she could.

  Bron
continued to make signs with his hands, Cathryn’s expression growing darker as she watched him. When he had finished, Cathryn replied using hand-speak, then looked down at Ylva. ‘Please let us help you. Please don’t go out there looking for revenge. You have a serpent by the tail, child, and nothing good ever comes from it. Everyone thinks revenge will solve something, make them feel better, and everyone finds out it doesn’t. You’ll lose everything.’

  ‘I haven’t got anything to lose.’

  ‘What about your life?’ Cathryn put a hand on Ylva’s shoulder. ‘You could lose your life. What could be more important than that?’

  ‘I don’t like to be touched.’ Ylva shrugged the hand away as if it burnt. ‘And people die every day, so if the gods want me to die, then that’s what’ll happen, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Anyway, I’ll be happy to see Mother again.’

  ‘Happy? You don’t mean that.’ Cathryn resisted when Ylva tried to push past, but Bron went to her and put a hand on the woman’s arm.

  ‘Let her go,’ he said.

  They were the first words he had spoken since arriving at the hut. His voice was soft and hoarse, almost a whisper, and the effort to make the words was clear in his eyes.

  Cathryn didn’t try again to stop Ylva from leaving. Instead, she followed her into the cold to see her take the first steps on a journey that would lead her closer to hardship and heartache than any child should ever come.

  Cathryn watched Ylva walk along the track until she was gone.