[quote=@Odin]
They were huddled together like pigs in a pen, except perhaps this time it was even tighter. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, and the warmth of the fire was minimal. At least Ketill had separated them from the cold floor using some leaves, but the entire experience was none the less not one he’d care to revisit over and over. He had just about fallen asleep when Najla’s voice came from behind him, where she’d been huddled with her brother. They both had kept their distance from each other as well as they could – neither of them seemed interested in being close to the other. A feat not so easily achieved as they’d hoped perhaps. She spoke of the assumptions she’d made along the way, the decision Basim had made not to tell her of his conversion, and his past as a Servant. None of those things interested or mattered at this point, yet she dwelled on them all the same. He snorted with a sound of disinterest, but kept his eyes open; if she’d thought he was asleep while she was speaking, perhaps she would similarly have convinced herself he made such a sound in his sleep. 

He’d found that she was living in the past while he himself and Basim would manage to adapt. She, herself, would always continue living in the past, wondering why? Why did things turn out the way they did? It was a pitiful existence even if Ketill could move himself to understand it. Her line of questioning, similarly, he could understand. But it did little to calm his annoyance at her ignorance. He turned over, looking her directly in her eyes – his own were ice blue, as if the grey and bleak environment was making them extra blue. His eyes were wide open, staring directly into her like he’d done so many times before, with a different message this time. His voice came from the back of his throat, a slight hint of anger in them. [i]‘’I do not want your kingdom. I do not want things handed to me like some Sawarim prince or princess. That is not the way,’’[/i] he told her, making sure she understood by speaking slowly, although that could just as easily be attributed to anger. [i]‘’If I wanted your kingdom I would take it, not beg for it.’’[/i]

He went silent then, pondering her question momentarily for himself. In the end, he shrugged. He did not care for her life, not any longer. He was satisfied in his thirst for justice. He knew that if she stayed with him, she was a prize that he could use to get what he wanted. If she left, she’d die in some corner of the world, under a tree starving or freezing to death. Both outcomes would satisfy him equally. 

[i]‘’The reason you live is yours, just as it was mine in the Sultanate. I did not survive all those years because you let me live. I survived because I set out to do so. Stop looking to me for guidance as if I have any interest in whether you live or die. I simply sought [b]justice.[/b] That is no longer in my hand, but the Gods’ hands.’’[/i]

He rolled over and closed his eyes, not wanting to discuss her life with her any longer. He did not know her like that and – though it would be foolish to ignore what they’d been through together – they had always been on opposite ends, fighting against each other. Whether she was his slave, or he hers, they had never been on the same side. Even now there was an uneasy tension, wariness of the other. Basim stood in the middle. Perhaps a foolish man would’ve said he kept them together, but that was false. He just kept them from murdering one another. For him to care for her life now would be out of place and untruthful.

Her mentioning of Basim and burial caused Ketill to snort again, this time from a stifled laugh. [i]‘’You speak as if Basim is already dead. He will survive. He has his use yet, since he is smart and learns quickly. With proper guidance he can become a hunter. Not because he can draw a bow far back, but because he can learn the tracks of animals and lure them into a trap.’’[/i] Momentarily his mind wondered, envisioning Basim standing in the bushes pulling back a bowstring, then moments later the thack and twang of an arrow hitting a deer in the neck. It seemed fitting. Then his mind wandered to Najla… nothing came to mind. [i]‘’When Basim dies I will be long dead myself,’’[/i] he concluded, moving to pull the cloak further up over himself, covering his entire body then. 

[hr]

The following day, Ketill had sent Najla and Basim both off to their chores again, something that Basim seemed eager to do for the purpose of learning, and Najla for the purpose of escaping Ketill. He’d noticed how she looked at him, but could not bring himself to care. She knew how things were – it was stay and live, or leave and die. Despite her hatred for him, she seemed all too happy to use his strength and knowledge of the land to survive. Admittedly, it had been long since Ketill had lived here, and even then he had been but a child. There was very little he could remembered by instinct, and he re-learned the processes through trial and error. 

But something that always stayed with him was the thrill of combat. As he was working on carving sharp spikes to set a trap with, he heard a twig break in the treeline behind their camp. Slowly his hand would reach for the axe, and pull it out to ready it. It couldn’t have been Najla or Basim, since they’d barely left camp. Adding to that, they went the other way, he was sure of that. Just as he was making ready to turn and swing, he heard quick footsteps, a yell, and then felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. He stumbled forwards and turned around raising a hand to the back of his head. When he pulled it back, he found himself lucky to not be bleeding. As he glanced up at the attacker, he saw a foursome of men, one of which had just swung at him with his fists from behind.

[i]‘’You sad you’d kill me for this land?’’[/i] one of the men said, and Ketill instantly recognized him as the man he’d spoken to a few days prior. [i]‘’I changed my mind! I don’t want you living on my land, or better yet, living at all!’’[/i] he bellowed. Strong words for someone that needed to bring friends to kill someone, Ketill thought, but he wasn’t allowed to speak it, as the man that had hit him ran forwards swinging his arm forward wildly. The immense power that Ketill had shown in Broacien and the Sultanate were now meeting their match, for each man seemed to possess a strength similar to his own. Perhaps Najla would learn soon enough that these lands were full of Djinn’s. 

Ketill reacted instinctively by stepping to the side, and swinging the axe in a circle behind him upwards, over his head and bringing it down on the man’s arm. It hit right on the bend of the elbow, cutting deep. It cut even deeper when Ketill pulled on the axe, forcing the metal of the axe to bite even deeper into the arm and cutting up to the bone. There was not much chance for the man to do anything other than drop to the ground and hold his arm as it dangled there, almost completely severed. It’d been a mistake for him to come here unarmed – but before Ketill could finish him, he was hit again, this time in the waist. One of the men had run forwards to help their friend, and tackled Ketill. They pummelled over the floor together and somehow the man ended up on top of Ketill, whose axe had fallen out of reach and whose sword was not really in a position to be draw from its sheath. [i]‘’That’s my brother!’’[/i] the man bellowed as he started smashing his fists into Ketills’ face, who struggled desperately to reach for a weapon of sorts with one hand while the other tried to stop the barrage of fists.

As usual, time slowed down with every fist he received in his face, and for a moment Ketill was sure he’d die here. The two other men were dragging the wounded man away, in an attempt to save him, while this man on top of Ketill was busy pounding him into the dirt. Then suddenly a spray of blood splashed into Ketill’s face, whose eyes opened wide at the smell and feeling of blood dripping onto his face. His own? Couldn’t be. Slowly the man lost power and fell to the side, revealing Basim standing there. Ketill breathed in deep as his eyes flashed from left to right before he veered up right, expecting the other two men to still be there and attack them. But they were gone – the way they’d gone was visibly marked by their tracks and the pools of blood the wounded man was leaving behind. 

Slowly Ketill would force himself up again, kicking the dying man in the side when he stabilized himself. To Najla’s question, he could not aswer, because he didn’t quite know the answer. [i]‘’One of them lives here, on these lands. Suppose he sees us as outlaws and fears us. The best way to solve that problem is to just get rid of us.’’[/i] he stated though that might’ve been only half the story. He paused, looking at Basim for a moment, before continuing, [i]‘’might’ve just succeeded in that if you hadn’t done what you did.’’[/i] Though he didn’t explicitly state his thanks, the tone in his voice brought it across none the less, and Basim nodded at him, still dazed somewhat by the events that had just transpired.

[i]‘’So now what?’’[/i] the boy slowly asked, not entirely sure what to do next. The gurgles of the dying man were coming to a close, indicating he was about to pass to the other world. Nobody seemed to pay him any mind. 

Ketill snorted, and reached for the axe, pulling it out of the man’s neck letting the rest of the blood flow freely. There was a deep maroon red spot under his face now. [i]‘’I spoke to him before, and he knows where we stay. Nothing prevents him from coming back and finishing it while we sleep. A cowards’ way, but it solves his problem.’’[/i] He looked around for a moment, half-expecting the men to return and kill them, but it was quiet. The distant chirp of a bird made the scene seem almost idyllic. By now, Ketill’s face was turning slightly black and purple from the heavy hits he’d received, and his nose had gone slightly crooked. It hurt like crazy, but Ketill’s body was filled with adrenaline and there was no way he’d feel it at that point. He gestured to the ground with the axe, pointing it at the trail of blood left behind when the men had dragged their friend off. [i]‘’Luckily they invited us to their home.’’[/i] The message was clear – they’d have to get rid of the threat before the threat got rid of them. It wasn’t a surprise, then, that Ketill followed the trail of blood, on his own, though he left the two of them free to follow. The path through the forest was relatively easy to follow, even for an amateur tracker like Basim had become.

The end of the path was a clearing, a fair distance away from the camp they’d constructed, where smoke bellowed through the hole in the top of the roof. Ketill did not waste much of his time observing, and trudged through the half-frozen mud into the field of grass, where normally heath would grow. The left-overs of the purple bushes had slowly shrunk and were not a shell of their former beauty. It was a stark contrast to Ketill, who was marching towards the house, stumbling every now and then when he lost his footing in the heath, with an axe in hand. 

The door slammed open, and immediately, Ketill was set upon, and forced to swing his axe. His assailant was one of the men from earlier, charging around with an axe of his own, though he lacked he professionalism that Ketill seemed to possess. Ketill grabbed his tunic and swung him through the door, causing the man to stumble around to the outside. The door slammed shut again then immediately opened when the man outside tried to get back in. He was met with the door slamming shut in his face again as Ketill brutally forced it into his face, not once, not twice, but three times. The sickening crunch of his skull collapsing under the weight of the door was enough to let Ketill know he was done. When he let go of the door, the man’s head was stuck between the wall and the door, and slowly slid down.

Behind him, the man that had been wounded before was laying on some furs, with the other man nearby, getting up quickly to defend himself. However, he was out of luck – there were no weapons nearby. Ketill approached quickly and with a ferocious kick hit the man straight in the chest, kicking him backwards into the nearby fire. The man began screaming loudly, his blood-chortling screams being rather… disturbing to anyone that hadn’t experienced such cries of death before. Najla, Basim and Ketill however would recognize some sort of similarity between this man, and the man he had burned in the Sawarim desert during Najla’s use of Ketill as her champion-slave. 

Then was left the wounded man, who had gone unconscious from the pain it seemed. Ketill did not offer him a warriors death much the same as he had not offered Ketill a holmgang – a fair fight, one on one. So, Ketill raised his axe, and chopped the man’s chest open, creating a messy display of his remnant aggression. By the time he was done, it was hard to recognize the mans’ chest as ‘a man’s chest’. By then the screams of the man in the fire had stopped, and the smell of burnt flesh was becoming too much, so Ketill walked over and grabbed the man’s  arm, which was still out of the flames. He dragged him out, and began hauling him to the door. Soon after, the other man followed. They were thrown in a shallow pit not far from the house, after which Ketill filled the pit with some of the left over wood from the houses’ wood storage. Soon after, a fire marked the grave of these men.

Benefit of the events that unfolded – they now had a shelter. The house was in a terrible state, admittedly, but would be easier to warm than some shelter. The house left much to be desired – it was small, poorly maintained, and offered barely enough space for a family. But, Ketill, Najla and Basim were not a family. There were enough corners to even offer Najla her own private space, though… ‘private’ meant little more than a wicker woven wall between her sleeping spot and the rest of the house. Any semblance of privacy it could not offer. 

[i]‘’Saves us the trouble of digging graves,’’[/i] Ketill snorted as he watched over the fire, with Basim standing next to him. [i]‘’They did not deserve a bonfire. But with the ground this frozen already, it would make little sense to waste our energy digging deeper.’’[/i] It was the most pragmatic approach – though admittedly, for a Sawarim it would be disgraceful no matter what the circumstances were given their attitudes to fire. 

Ketill then turned around, looking towards the new home they’d claimed. It turned out Ketill would kill the man for his land in the end anyway. [i]‘’We should see what items they left that we can use,’’[/i] he shortly stated, before the sound of the frozen ground crunching under his boots marked his departure. It was getting noticeably colder, and the ground only defrosted during the afternoons now, marking the beginning of the period where Ketill would have to start worrying about the warmth and food they’d need during the winter. 

Inside, he was glad to find at least some basic cooking appliances. Pots, some mediocre pans, and the spit he could put them on over the fire. The interior of the house was simple – in the center was a large pit covered with stones, where wood could be put to light a fire. It was a large pit simply because the house would need a lot of warmth. On the sides of the fire would be some seating areas – mostly, furs laid on the ground, as apparently the former inhabitants didn’t care much for furniture. On the foremost quarter of the house, where the door to the entryway was, there would be some storage spots. A single large wooden bookcase styled shelf, and a small unlocked chest. From the wall hung a quiver made of pigskin, with several arrows in them, alongside a shortbow. Nothing overly expensive, nor was it well maintained, but when Ketill took it off and tested the bow a few times, it seemed to perform decent enough.

At the far end there would be place to sleep – it seemed to have been used for that before, as there were stacks of furs placed around there. To appease Najla and Basim, he’d create a wicker woven wall later – it was a labour intensive job during winter, when there wouldn’t be enough good wood around to make it anyway. For now they’d have to do with sleeping in the open with little privacy at all. When he’d found Najla, he’d simply order her to work again – almost as if nothing had happened. [i]‘’Go search the house and see what you find, then get started on cooking. Now that we’ve a pot, you can create something worthwhile and stop complaining about the food we got you.’’[/i] He headed to the door, and grabbed the quiver, slung it over his shoulder and then took the shortbow. His sword sheath came off, and he hung his sword from the wall where the bow had hung before. He already seemed to have made himself the master of this humble abode. [i]‘’Finally you can make yourself useful and add some worth to this home,’’[/i] he grumbled afterwards, within earshot of Najla. Obviously he didn’t care if she heard. He raised his voice again to ensure that she got the next part, however. [i]‘’If you see Basim, tell him to take my axe and to refill the stack of wood next to the fire. Unless you’d like to freeze to death!’’[/i]

And with that, he left. He’d disappear for several hours on end, almost causing Basim to think Ketill had just left the area all together and left them to die. But, ultimately, Ketill did return. In place of his sword, he had now hung several dead rabbits from his leather belt, as well as a dead duck, which was a worthy bounty at least. He put the bow and quiver back where they belonged, then untied the rabbits and duck from his belt. He held them up in the air by the strings he’d used to tie them, then spoke up to Basim. [i]‘’Come, I’ll show you how to skin them.’’[/i] Najla was left on her own, as Basim was more than eager to learn how to do such tasks, which would’ve normally been far below a prince like him, but were now a key to survival. 

Using a very sharp rock he’d found, Ketill would open the carcass and strip the bodies of their fur carefully – any mistakes he made could harm the quality of the fur. Once he was confident that Basim had understood, he handed off the stone and let him do it to the other rabbit while Ketill preoccupied himself with plucking the duck. Althoug Basim made some mistakes, it wasn’t anything too bad. Soon enough Ketill could take the boy hunting, and ensure that he’d provide even more of an addition to their mutual survival. Najla, on the other hand, she had yet to prove her value in even the smallest amount.

When they were done, Ketill took all the items, including the bones, and took them inside. Without much subtleness he dropped the meat next to Najla, and took the rest to the far end of the house. He’d seat himself upon his furs – his [i]throne[/i] so to say, and began preparing the furs. They’d need to be cleaned before they could be used, which was not going to take too long given their size. The bones, similarly, would be used for that process, by making a few of them into needles. It was an arduous task that took a large amount of time, given Ketill lacked the finesse and sleight of hand to work with his hands on such small bones. Normally, it was something left to the women, with their slender hands and good eye for detail. Now, it was left to Ketill, some brute whose hands were used to cleaving men in half and burning faces off. It would’ve been humorous hadn’t their survival depended on it.

By the time he was finished, it would be late in the evening. With a sigh he placed the items down besides him, looking over to the fire where Najla presumably would still be. [i]‘’Is the food ready yet?’’[/i] he grumbled, evidently not satisfied by her performance as of yet. 

With the furs he’d prepare, he intended to create some mitts for the winter, so he could at least go out and do things while they waited for the winter to pass – not for too long, but perhaps to go out and check some animal traps. But for that they’d need to actually reach the winter alive, which would become a problem if Najla didn’t do as she was told. 

[hr]

A week later, the first snow plummeted from the sky. From one day to the other, the landscape was suddenly white, a thin layer for now. It was a good thing, too, since Ketill had found tracks of a large stag, and Basim had told him that he’d found tracks while looking for extra food. For the most part Ketill had let Basim do his own thing – he seemed preoccupied by learning, which was good, but also by being useful. The boy didn’t seem to be capable of sitting still in an environment like this, where there was always something to do. With his slender and agile fingers, he’d even prepared more needles out of the left over bones, and even spun some wire from plant fibres. Najla on the other hand seemed content to follow her old work flow – which meant to say, barely any at all. She’d mucked around, grumbled whenever she was told to do something, and Ketill was convinced at some point she was doing the jobs she [i]did[/i] do so poorly in hopes that Ketill wouldn’t ask her to do those jobs again. It was bound to come to a heated discussion at least some times in the future. 

However, with the snow, Ketill almost seemed happy to go out – it must’ve been strange, and Basim questioned him momentarily. Ketill had woken early, and woken up Basim soon after, when the sun had barely reached the horizon yet. When Ketill had told him to prepare his cloak to go out, Basim retorted. [i]‘’It is much too cold for that, in the snow,’’[/i] he’d replied to which Ketill only snorted.

[i]‘’Yes, but those tracks will be easier to follow in the snow.’’[/i]

Basim’s eyes had widened and suddenly he understood why Ketill had been so excited. Basim hurried to Najla, who he also woke. [i]‘’Najla, get ready, we’re going out,’’[/i] he said to her in a hushed tone. Although Ketill wasn’t too excited about her coming along, he didn’t object, since it was better than having her lay around here all day waiting for him and Basim to come back so she could complain to them about the cold some more.

Within a few minutes Basim and Ketill were ready, and waited for Najla only momentarily before trekking out. The snow was a hindrance, but only slightly so. You had to lift your feet a bit more to move as quickly as you would without snow, so Basim trudged along rather amateurishly. Najla, most likely, would suffer a similar fate.

The cold was biting, but not as bad as it would be in a months’ time. Ketill didn’t seem to mind – had adapted fast, it seemed – Basim however was struggling, and it didn’t take long before his teeth began to clatter. The cloak was enough to keep his body warm, but everything else was cold. 

It didn’t take long for the trio to find the tracks. Ketill would squat down and look at them more closely, before informing Basim. [i]‘’Three deer and a large stag – see the prints, three sets of smaller ones, so those must be deer. Then, a larger ones that reach deeper and are larger in size – a stag.’’[/i] Basim nodded, understanding his reasoning quickly, and before they knew it they were trailing the tracks.

When the animals crossed a small stream of water, they nearly lost the tracks, but after some light searching found it again. It didn’t take long before they heard the groans of the stag in the distance, which caused Ketill to gesture for the two of his companions to squat down low. Off in the distance, in a smaller clearing, the stag was bent over with his head, eating some shrubbery now that it had the chance. They were lucky – the wind was coming towards them, so the stag wouldn’t be alerted to them. The three, smaller deer were standing around as well, counting on the stag to alert them if there was danger nearby.

[center][img]https://images.on-this.website/21379_1043992201510523772e586.jpg[/img][/center]

The process of hunting, however, was much more refined than running up and stabbing or shooting the animal to death. Especially with the low quality arrows Ketill had found in the quiver – which were hand made with stones, instead of metal tips. 

Ketill pulled off his mitts of rabbit fur and handed them off to Najla, who was besides him. He didn’t speak to her, but rather shoved it into her hands while preparing his bow.

Slowly Ketill veered upwards and nocked an arrow, breathing deeply as he pulled the string. The white fog coming out of his mouth slowed down and became stronger, letting Najla and Basim know how focused he was, to the point where he kept his breath under control while aiming. Then, suddenly, the thwang of the string of the bow alerted them to the arrow flying off. It struck the stag – perfectly in it’s chest. He wasn’t sure how accurate he had hit, but the stag kicked it’s legs up in surprise, it’s heart pumping faster from the sudden attack only shortening the time it would have before it’d fall over and die. The deer promptly raised their heads and made efforts to run away, and Ketill was quick to nock another arrow and let fly, though the lack of time to aim was visible in the results. As the deer rushed into the nearby bushes, the arrow flew towards those same bushes. He’d have to see whether he’d hit or not when they went to get the stag. The stag reared wildly, bucking as if it were a horse – perhaps a familiar sight for Najla and Basim – flailing it’s body seemingly not understanding what had happened or why its’ body wasn’t cooperating. [i]‘’Thank you, Audrun,’’[/i] Ketill whispered to himself, putting the bow over his shoulders and running to the stag, that had fallen over and was kicking wildly.

Normally, he’d have finished it with a dagger, but he did not possess the luxury of having one. He was forced to let it die on its’ own. [i]‘’Wait here, and stay away from it. It can still kick hard, even on the ground, like a horse,’’[/i] he urged Najla and Basim, while he ran off into the distance to check whether the other arrow had hit. Unluckily, he found the arrow he’d shot not far behind the bushes, next to a large rock. The arrow was broken in half, unusable now. Ketill presumed it must’ve hit the rock, and was unable to take the force. A shame – getting a stag and deer would’ve fed them for most of the winter, he presumed. 

As he came back, the stag would’ve lost its’ life, the blood gushing from its wound in its chest. It seemed to have been a perfect shot – perhaps guided by the god of hunt himself – and had hit the stag right in the heart, causing it to bleed out faster and faster the more it’s heart pumped, which was a given with the adrenaline of being attacked rushing through it. 

Rather than skin it on the spot, they’d have to carry it back. Before they did so, Ketill took a stick and drew a rune in the ground, then cupped his hands near the wound and took some of the stags’ blood, dripping it over the rune as a sign of thanks to the god. [i]‘’We’ll sacrifice some of the meat when we get back home,’’[/i] he informed them, seemingly for no reason. He got up, took the stag by its’ front legs and waited for Basim to pick up the hind legs. The trek home took even longer than the trek to the position they’d found the stag in – the creature was big and fat, and heavy as a result, though this temporary pain was relieved at the thought of the amount of meat they’d be able to get off of it. At least, Ketill thought so, Basim seemed mostly amused by the spectacle of hunt, which was so different from the ‘hunt’ at home. 

When they got back, the same events unfolded – Najla was left alone, since Ketill presumed she didn’t have an interest in learning to skin and butcher animals. Basim was left to help Ketill skin the stag, which was a massive tag given its’ size, and Ketill had every intent to keep the animals fur, either to make leather or craft other clothing. Basim and Najla were still dressed in whatever had remained from their ‘royal’ clothing, which was more fit for a desert than a winter in the north. The cloaks offered them help, but not much beyond that. Ketill himself was dressed in the rags of a slave, but his body was far more resistant to the cold due to the sheer amount of weight he possessed paired with his muscle. So, new clothing was a must. They’d have to make a decision – use some of the furs they slept on to make clothing, or use them for cover at night. 

An obvious choice to Ketill. But Najla and Basim were likely not used to making such decisions. 

When Ketill and Basim were done with butchering the animal, they had a store for the winter – or something at least. They’d need to supplement it still, but with some preparation and smoke they could use this meat throughout the winter. The bones were set aside for now, as there was no direct need for them, while the fur was cleaned by Ketill himself. A medium piece of meat was left out on a stone somewhere as a sacrifice to the gods. Hopefully, that meant they’d be lucky again next time.

[hr]

The confrontation between Ketill and Najla had been expected for a few days now, but it wasn’t until Ketill ordered her to stop laying on her ‘bed’ and start cooking did he catch a word she’d probably not intended for him to hear. In Sawarimic, he recognized the word as ‘dog.’ Rather than let it slip, like he’d done before, the fury in him rose and he found himself standing before her in an instant, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her halfway upright, forcing her to sit on her knees. [i]‘’I feed you and this is how you thank me?’’[/i] he said to her, shaking her head lightly by the hairs. Basim had gone out to collect wood and more roots, to supplement the food storage, which was perhaps unlucky for Najla, though they both knew Basim wouldn’t have managed to deal with Ketill. 

[i]‘’If you are so eager to do nothing, contribute nothing, and then insult me, perhaps you’d be better off alone, outside,’’[/i] he continued, pausing momentarily. Before she could react he’d spat her in her face, and pulled her towards him further. [i]‘’I should just take you, force myself upon you and then slit your throat, but you are even below that now.’’[/i] 

With those words said, he’d begin dragging her towards the doorway, his fingers tangling themselves into her hair. If she was fast enough, she’d manage to grab her cloak as a last resort, but that’d require her to know what he was going to do. He moved fast enough to where she would be left dragging behind him, attempting to keep walking alongside him yet failing to do so. With a wide gesture he opened the door and forced her outside, continuing to drag her outside towards the edge of the forest. Once there, he’d thrust her forwards, into the forest edge. [i]‘’Go then!’’[/i] he yelled, giving her a heavy shove, forcing her to fall flat out into the snow – a cold wake up to the reality of the situation. [i]‘’If you want to die so bad, then go ahead. But you won’t drag me or your brother with you.’’[/i]

And then he returned to the house – it was quite evident she wasn’t welcome back, at least not tonight. Ketill was a changed person, in large part due to her, and it was now that she was reaping the fruits of that. She was left outside, in the cold on her own. And to make matters worse, when the door fell shut, the snow picked up again.

[/quote]