We Are Stained with the Blood of Stars

Deity cocked her head, still sitting tall above the small she-wolf. “Interesting,” she replied. So Dutch was one of the Hjarrandi, but not one of them? Deity pondered the nature of family, and bonds. She barely remembered her family, having become a loner at such a young age. Bonds and friendships and families were... foreign to her. Perhaps this was what made her feel like something Other, perhaps this was the source of her divinity.
Dutch had scoffed at the word Viking, had claimed that they were not her people. If the Hjarrandi were Vikings, and she was one of the Hjarrandi, then what could she mean by that? She was a Viking, but not a Viking. So, Deity assumed, she still felt a deeper connection to those underground— which, Deity realized, she had completely overlooked as the words left the stranger’s mouth. Wolves, underground? Did she simply mean they dug dens in the earth? That wasn’t uncommon, but hardly seemed worth mentioning.
The image of a mole came to Deity’s mind. Did they live in tunnels, like moles and other rodents? That must be it. And to only rarely come to the surface... how was such a thing possible? Suddenly, Deity was hyper-aware of the moss beneath her feet, and the many mysteries it must hold. What, or who was beneath her right now? She looked down, then back into the violet (a spectacular color, really) of Dutch’s eyes.
“So,” she said, brow furrowed, “what do you mean, you aren’t really a Viking? You said that you belonged to the Hjarrandi— are you not one of them?” Leaning forward, she asked, aghast, the spark of youth leaping out again: “Are you a captive?”
She had been about to ask about the underground bit as well, and about these foreign people who she didn’t know existed, but the ghastly thought of this nonchalant youth being bound to a master, not much older than herself...
For all Deity’s arrogance and her belief in her own divinity, she could never be the master of a captive. It was a dirty thing, repulsive, owning slaves. Followers must follow of their own free will, otherwise devotion is worth nothing, the same way shining moonstones only have value to those who believe they do.