Chapter Seven
Morwen continued to stumble through the rocky landscape. Thirst and hunger clouded her mind but she could not stop when her children were in danger. She grabbed leaves from a few sparse clumps of #lemon balm, chewed the herb to clear her thoughts and calm her nightmare imaginings.
Yet still a #storm of emotion engulfed her. Her husband had no claim on her, he had been so distant for so long, she could not mourn him. But her children, both those alive and the one unborn, they … they were everything.
An amber #glow rising up from a distant crag warmed the sky against the encroaching darkness. Night and day seemed to have no set length, switching places at will, disorienting Morwen in a manner she had never experienced before and still she ran on.
As she neared the flickering light however, she discovered it was not a welcoming campfire around which her daughters were gathered but the roar of a #dragon at bay. She had not seen such a creature for a long time, not since the Shamanka had cast them out.
Beneath the dragon lay a body, eviscerated, empty; the skin a sac, drained of blood, stray remnants #jellied on nearby rocks. It was not a child. She recognised the man as one from her village, a man who should not be here.
A warm breeze brushed the back of Morwen’s neck. She turned to find herself looking at another monster, although this one a mere dragonling. As it neared her, it let out a mewl, more kitten than beast. Its mother looked up. Morwen was caught between them. There was no escape.
#Fight or flight? A shrill scream pierced the night air. High-pitched, a child … her child. A mother and her child, just like the dragon. She stepped away from the monstrous infant, slid along the wall of rock, headed towards the one gap through which she could pass.
Step-by-step she edged along, burned by the heat of the dragons’ stare. The monsters lumbered slowly, intently, towards her, narrowing the gap for which she was heading until, just as all hope was gone, the rock behind her vanished and she fell into a #hollow.
As the creatures probed the ground around her hiding place, she sank back further and found herself tumbling into darkness, landing with a jolt as she hit the ground. Morwen lay stunned for a moment and when she eventually moved, a #wave of nausea washed over her.
Instinctively her hand went to her belly. So far she had been able to push thoughts of her unborn child to the back of her mind but now her body had decided it was time to remind her, to warn her of what could, might even be, happening. #New life was so fragile.
Too shocked to move, Morwen lay there, her eyes adjusting to the gloom of the underworld in which she found herself. Slowly sitting up, she realised her fall had been broken by ancient #roots, wondered at the tree that had birthed them, the squirrel now watching.
The squirrel approached, a gleam in his eye. Morwen’s thoughts pulled together. The dragon, the tree, the squirrel ... Nidhogg, Yggdrasil and Ratatoskr. This really was the land of the Gods and not just Thunor, but Odin, watched. The thought chilled her to the #bone.
Morwen continued to stumble through the rocky landscape. Thirst and hunger clouded her mind but she could not stop when her children were in danger. She grabbed leaves from a few sparse clumps of #lemon balm, chewed the herb to clear her thoughts and calm her nightmare imaginings.
Yet still a #storm of emotion engulfed her. Her husband had no claim on her, he had been so distant for so long, she could not mourn him. But her children, both those alive and the one unborn, they … they were everything.
An amber #glow rising up from a distant crag warmed the sky against the encroaching darkness. Night and day seemed to have no set length, switching places at will, disorienting Morwen in a manner she had never experienced before and still she ran on.
As she neared the flickering light however, she discovered it was not a welcoming campfire around which her daughters were gathered but the roar of a #dragon at bay. She had not seen such a creature for a long time, not since the Shamanka had cast them out.
Beneath the dragon lay a body, eviscerated, empty; the skin a sac, drained of blood, stray remnants #jellied on nearby rocks. It was not a child. She recognised the man as one from her village, a man who should not be here.
A warm breeze brushed the back of Morwen’s neck. She turned to find herself looking at another monster, although this one a mere dragonling. As it neared her, it let out a mewl, more kitten than beast. Its mother looked up. Morwen was caught between them. There was no escape.
#Fight or flight? A shrill scream pierced the night air. High-pitched, a child … her child. A mother and her child, just like the dragon. She stepped away from the monstrous infant, slid along the wall of rock, headed towards the one gap through which she could pass.
Step-by-step she edged along, burned by the heat of the dragons’ stare. The monsters lumbered slowly, intently, towards her, narrowing the gap for which she was heading until, just as all hope was gone, the rock behind her vanished and she fell into a #hollow.
As the creatures probed the ground around her hiding place, she sank back further and found herself tumbling into darkness, landing with a jolt as she hit the ground. Morwen lay stunned for a moment and when she eventually moved, a #wave of nausea washed over her.
Instinctively her hand went to her belly. So far she had been able to push thoughts of her unborn child to the back of her mind but now her body had decided it was time to remind her, to warn her of what could, might even be, happening. #New life was so fragile.
Too shocked to move, Morwen lay there, her eyes adjusting to the gloom of the underworld in which she found herself. Slowly sitting up, she realised her fall had been broken by ancient #roots, wondered at the tree that had birthed them, the squirrel now watching.
The squirrel approached, a gleam in his eye. Morwen’s thoughts pulled together. The dragon, the tree, the squirrel ... Nidhogg, Yggdrasil and Ratatoskr. This really was the land of the Gods and not just Thunor, but Odin, watched. The thought chilled her to the #bone.
