ge mig frid

Tove looks at the shadow, the huge wolf she had once thought would protect her and his band. A deep, profound sadness rests in her eyes and behind that, burns a small flame of anger. Viðarr had disappear when she needed him the most and that had broken the older wolf. She utters the words, accusing yet truthful and he… closes the gap. The scarred woman’s body stiffens as he approaches, tears filling her eyes as he reaches his muzzle to her. She should rage at him, yell and scream until her voice is hoarse and her body wrung out.

But she doesn’t… she can’t. Bodin is dead and buried, her brother’s presence never to be felt in this life again. But Viðarr… how many nights had she cried for him? Awoken screaming his name only to have her band mates stare at her with that disgusting, pitiful sympathy; as if she was a fragile object that might break at the slightest movement. Through all that she had suffered and screamed until, finally, she told herself he would never return. Yet here he is, in the flesh, whole… alive. A tear slides free, running down her scar riddled cheek and she reaches out, wanting to lean into his touch.

Viðarr murmurs and she feels her chest hitch, head spinning as a sudden wave of dizziness slams into her. He knows what he did is wrong and he does not make any excuses. Tove takes a small step forward, a choked sound escaping from her damaged vocal chords. She wants him to hold her… no, she needs him to. For so long she felt like a wraith walking on the periphery of life, more dead then alive. Sometimes, she wondered why the gods keep her alive, pondered what horrible thing she had done to deserve this existence.

Standing here, with Viðarr, the huge man staring at her with a softness and gentle longing in his gaze, Tove feels the sharp dagger of bitterness twist in her guts. He speaks of his sister running off and sadness, pain, and even understanding roll across her features. She stands at a crossroads at the scarred woman hesitates. Finally, she speaks up, her gravely tones and rough voice causing her wince as she says, “Bodin died. You left. The band…” A shrug of her heavily scarred shoulders show Viðarr that they were not there when she needed them.

Finally, she lifts her eyes, meeting his icy silver blue gaze. Pain stretches the lines of her mouth thin, tugging the corners of her mouth down in a frown. Her heart hurts and, as the dam breaks and the tears begin to fall, she hoarsely whispers, “I lost everything.” Voice cracks as a sob wrenches itself from her chest, the pain and anger she had kept bottled up after Bodin’s death finally breaks free.

Her knees suddenly feel weak and Tove crashes down as great wreaking sobs course through her body. Wave after wave of emotion hits her, drowning the scarred woman underneath their powerful current, dragging her into a bottomless pit of despair. The world fades away until all that is left is her and her grief.


"Tove Baade"