I bump into Siv as I enter.
“Where are you running to?” she laughs heartily.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well,” I tell her softly.
“Come with me, little one. I need some help with the soup,” she tells me.
I glance at her and follow. The longhouse is quiet, everyone seems to be out. I sit on the floor next to the fire as she stirs the soup.
“Something seems to be bothering you, little one. I am not talking about your parents. Something else. I smell death on you, the scent is so strong I can barely keep myself together around you. We, hulder can sense death before it comes, when it comes, wherever it walks. I can’t even explain it, but you smell like death itself,” she whispers as she keeps stirring the soup. Her eyes are unmoving.
I stare at her, wondering why she tells me this, what does it mean? What does she want me to do?
“I smell like death?” My lips quiver at the thought.
“Yes, little one. You do. I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have told you. But I need you to go with Are, find other blood children. It is too much for us,” she utters as her voice fades away.
I am an island. I thought I had found somewhere I could stay. I thought I had found a home. I smell like death itself?
“Is it because I killed my father and the volva?” I ask her, desperate for answers.
“I don’t think so, we usually sense death that’s coming or is imminent. Not death that has passed. And it’s usually from the person who’s about to die. Your scent is different. It’s as if you are death. I can’t explain it,” she remarks gently as she stops stirring and glances at me.
“I am not death. I am just a child.” I can’t hold back those large and wet tears anymore, I can’t hold back any of it.
Siv holds me as I weep, she pats my hair with her gentle hands. I wish I could go back to my mother. I miss her so.
“I know, but it is what it is. I am truly sorry, little one,” she whispers into my ear, “You have stayed here for a whole moon now. It’s time to go with Are to find your own kind, little one.” Siv holds me tighter, her warmth flows into me. I don’t want to go.
Darkness wells up inside me. Emptiness fills me again, that all too familiar void. Did it follow me from the world I came from? My mind thinks of that world for a moment, its desolate wastelands feel the same as my own inner wastelands. I see the gleaming white city growing taller and more imposing. I shake my head and return to this place; to the longhouse.
Are stands at the doorway, looking at me and Siv. His face tells me he knows, he understands. I don’t understand at all. Why do I smell of death? I remember the volva, how I saw her soul so clearly. How it felt like the darkness inside me reached out to her and pulled her soul towards me. I couldn’t make sense of it. Perhaps there was someone out there who could help me make sense of it?
“I will go with Are then,” I tell Siv, staring up at her.
“Don’t worry, Ragnarr. We will meet again, sometime. You will find a place to call home,” Siv says as she ruffles my hair, “You will leave tomorrow morning, little one.”
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