vi skal reise oss i vår prakt

If they stayed up late tonight, they’d sleep later into the day tomorrow, and maybe Víðarr would have some chance at hearing his own thoughts while he drove. For a man accustomed to solitude, used to saying few words, the barrage of questions was certainly new. They never seemed to stop coming at him from all angles, aside from the ones that Tenshi was there to cover. Víðarr loves them more than he loves to march in peace, but perhaps tomorrow morning he’d get to enjoy both. The pups had been eager to listen to the warriors telling stories around the fire, but began to drop one by one as the moon climbed high into the sky.

Or they pretended they did. Lumine had been the last to fall asleep— or pretend to. Víðarr didn’t mind so much, they weren’t going to be small enough to carry around like sacks of potatoes for long. Camp drew still and quiet around them, and the viking king scooped up his daughter. The fire burned low in the pit as he moved to carry her to bed after an evening of stories and good food. This is the life he’s fought for.

"Víðarr"