Exile. . . The thought of it still seemed foreign to him. To never again return to his village, or the hall of his Ranulf, the man he had called father for so long. Never see the waves gently lapping at the villages docks, or the longships bobbing upon the evening waters. Never smell the distinctive seeded flatbread Olga used to bake him for his breakfast, or hear the wheezing cough of Old Hakon, the village elder who had taught him so much. Exile was something he had never considered was in his future. 

And yet, the more he considered it the more the concept seemed to fit him like a glove. He had never been the son his father had wanted, heir to the Jarl in name only, a constant reminder of a wife's possible infidelity. He had never been the warrior the village had desired him to be, that was certain after recent events. His home had felt like a prison at times, a grim cage, the bars formed by his supposed destiny and responsibilities to the village. Exile was a freedom he realised, a peculiar type of freedom perhaps, but a freedom nonetheless. Now the only destiny he had to concern himself with was the one he made for himself. That, and the one Odin had foretold, though the All-Fathers words were still a mystery to him, so he felt the less time he dwelt on them the better. There were more pressing concerns at the moment. Like survival. . . and dinner. 

The long trek had but an edge to Faen's hunger, one liable to cut him if he didn't do something about it soon. Hunger was no stranger to him, strange some might think as he was the son of a wealthy Jarl and they would think he would want for little, but that assumption couldn't be further from the truth. Ranulf had starved Faen often, hoping that hunger and hardship would make him a fiercer warrior, but in truth all it did was heat the flames of the boys hatred for him a little more. Besides, just because he'd been hungry before didn't mean he enjoyed being hungry now. His stomach rumbled as the group assembled, and he was glad to see Erika set off to hunt. A little fresh meat would do him a world of good. He didn't know the woman well- truth be told he didn't know anyone here well as he had ran in different circles to the rest- but he had come to respect Erika's abilities as a huntress in the last few weeks. Without her and her bow it was likely they would all starve.

Now he just had to find a way to make himself useful. It was painfully obvious that as the group went, he was the weak link. Erika could hunt, Aevar and Audrunar were both muscled warriors, while Jonrik and his wife were both skilled tradesmen. He had to stand out early, or they may start to remember his suspect lineage, and blame the Lokison for their recent bad fortune. He was just about to head into the trees to gather some fire wood when his odd coloured eyes wandered along the horizon, his tired mind being lifted by the prettiness of the spot. The running water provided a gentle music, and there was nothing he wanted more than to lay his head and sleep, to dream of better things than exile, spiteful Jarls and divine parentage. 

"Probably fish in that river." He mused out loud. Maybe if there was he could use the occasion to show off a little in front of the group, to show them he wasn't completely useless. A travelling merchant had once taught him how to 'tickle fish', a trick that Faen had found to be both interesting and enjoyable. There'd been hell to pay when his father had discovered how his son had spent the afternoon knee deep in river water, making a tit of himself in front of the village folk, but maybe those lessons would pay off now.

"If you get a fire ready Erika and I shall delve the earth and seas for such a banquet to make those feasting in Valhalla green with envy!" He called to Audrunar.

 He pulled his boots off and rolled his trews up to the knee before pushing himself to his feet and ambling to the river, before paddling into the shallows. He crouched a little with his hands dipped into the water, waiting for a fish to swim his way. He began to whistle to himself, soft and low.

He was going to enjoy this freedom while he could, as knowing his luck it would all turn to shit soon enough.