Allt veit ek Óðinn

You look and look and look some more, and you think you've chosen the safest path. You navigate carefully, your eyes scanning for the best route. You didn't choose right, you realize as you look over and see a flatter path. Your distraction costs you, and you slip into the icy spikes below. Above you, now spinning, you see the streaks of your own blood melting down the broken and jagged ice. As your vision tunnels, the guide runs to your side and all you can think about is how warm her tears are.

You awaken out by the lake, battered and beaten and so. so cold. A familiar form kneels beside you, tending your wounds. It takes several blurry moments to realize this is not your guide, but a cluster of fireflies in a cloak the same color as your guide's fur. Your injuries ache, but you will heal fine; you can tell somehow by the way the fireflies buzz around you. Your right brow is throbbing painfully, and you realize with a start that your sight in that eye is temporarily gone... it will quickly be regained, but will no doubt leave a nasty scar on your right brow behind. You also lose 15 healing skill points.

You realize loosely how little sense that makes and you wonder if this is real, but a warm force closes your eyes and bids you to think of home, of safety. When you awake next, you are in a safe place, one which you might have imagined.