silver is the grip on the helping hand

Never had an adult fought for him the way she did in that moment. Certainly his mother had never uttered his name in such a panicked cry. The weight on his chest was gone in an instant and he could pull a proper breath into his lungs. 


He only had time for one, and then Bylgja was pulling him up, checking him over. His eyes were wide and shocked as he looked at her. Not from being trapped by the deer, but by whatever instinct had driven her. He looked at her with awe and fear. Her axe discarded in the snow, like there was only one thing important to her here - and the axe wasn't it.


Suddenly, panic took him and he struggled free of her, putting some distance between them. He looked at her like she was something unpredictable, something to fear. "Why did… what…" he wasn't even sure he knew how to put his thoughts into words. Wasn't even sure he knew the words. "You don't know me."