"Stew, steeewww, stew, stew, stew!", Halfdan yelled as he ran throught the settlement. As he ran, he collected kids and some of the smaller dragons in his wake. His vigor and loudness attracted them to him, like Vikings to an easy plunder. The other children took over Halfdan's chant and the dragons added flapping wings and chirps and squeaks to the hullabaloo. As this morning parade passed the homes of clanspeople heads popped out of doorways and windows. The racket easily drowned out the sounds of hammers, saws and other diy-sounds. There was no ignoring it. Halfdan was doing a great job getting everyone's attention. 

People wiped off the sweat and the dust and stepped out in the meagre sunshine. People knew. They knew that, whenever there was a great pot of stew of offer, it would most certainly be parked at Freyhild Grimsdottir's. And it would be good. Freyhild knew her way around a cooking fire, pot and ladle. As yelling Halfdan and his loud entourage went one way, a much calmer procession went the other way. A small chinking and tinkling of bowls and spoons joyfully making their way up to Freyhild's house. 

Soon, the whole of the village assembled at Grimsdottir's cooking fire. Everyone was cheerfully chatting away at each other, as they sniffed up the promise of a full belly. Hog Morsan looked around with guarded relief. She'd feared that her clan would never smile again, after the massacre by the Romans. They'd lost so much; parents, grandparents, children, confidence, innocence, even sanity. But now, here, this place seemed to have some healing effect on the Hjarn Knackars, despite it's obvious violent past. This place seemed to have been cleansed, albeit violently. It, like her clan, was ready for a fresh start. As she pondered this, she smiled at Freyhild, showing her appreciation of Grimsdottir's initiative. She, also, had lost so much. A small tear escaped Hog Morsan's eye as she thought of Thorsten and Kjot. 

Attracted to her mood, a small dragon - she didn't know what kind - curled up in her lap. [i]'And then there are the dragons'[/i], Morsan thought. She was convinced that they too, had a healing effect on her fellow clanspeople. They were curious, playful and surprising. How cute they might be, especially the smaller species and younger specimens, Hog Morsan understood that these were wild creatures. It made her wonder what awaited them here. [i]'Ah well...'[/i] Practical as ever, Hog Morsan shook her head lightly, to clear her head. The small creature on her lap scampered off, as she rose and walked over to Freyhild. As she came to stand next to her, Old Morsan laid her wrinkled hand on Freyhild's arm. "Smells good, hon'", she said. "You've worked a miracle again". Grinning she waved about at the assembled clan. "You did this. Do you feel the lightness, you've created here?" Peering deep into those stormy grey eyes, Hog Morsan added: "Thank you Frey'".