that opinion emphatically. I'm simply cautious and trust my instincts implicitly. My instincts tell me the easiest way to stay happy is to be wary of people in general. And yet I couldn't resist inviting Leug in when I saw him standing outside, sodden and forlorn. Everything I am wanted to offer him compassion, the kind I wasn't privy to as a child.
Best decision of my life!
I am relieved he's not taking me toward town, but away from it. I guess that's the bonus to living on the outskirts with my humble garden edging up the slope.
It's still dark and I feel silly holding a jar of fireflies in the dead of winter. It certainly is beginning to feel like the adventure he promised.
“Are you aware that you chose to live in an area that previously was a Scandinavian settlement?” he says, making conversation while we walk.
“ It is?”
He pauses for me to reach his side, slipping his arm about my waist and strolling with me in the brisk predawn, “Ah, complacency keeps folks ignorant, doesn't it? Keswick was once called Kēsewīc. It means farm where they make cheese .”
“ Oh,” I mumble, looking back across the valley while thunder peals in the distance. “Are they hunting you?” I ask, indicating the ominous nimbus galloping toward us, sparking danger across the sky.
“ They're just nosy. They seem to find me an endless curiosity, one they love to taunt.”
“ Why? Why do your elders rebuke you?” I pry.
Leug stalls with me, holding me close, feeling profound and safe lining my back with his arms folded across my breasts.
“Lara, my side of the story is never told. They have lived under Odin for so long that they forget Odin answers to someone greater than he ever was. Modern books and tales pay homage and respect to Odin because he was a charismatic leader who knew how to work a crowd. But he also has a filthy temper, and that made him a brute and a dangerous enemy. Those watchers up there track me purely for him. I once took away his source of immortality and he has never forgiven me for it. It's a vendetta with no end. His pride and ego are diabolical.”
“ Who are they?” I ask, sorry now that I've ruined our easy companionship with my inquisitive need for answers.
“ The favorites,” he mutters, his tone decidedly bitter. Releasing me, he recaptures my hand, hooking it into the crook of his arm, offering me an affectionate smile, “We can discuss my brotherhood later. Now, I have a way to escape them.”
He gives me a conspiratorial wink, his voice back to that low level gravel rumble that makes me think of hot dry desert where the roads are corrugated and malevolent.
His voice is seductive, husky, commanding, and mesmerizing. I could listen to him all day, mentally salivating while the coarseness in his voice rakes sharp teeth through my soul, studding my insides with desire, grazing away the edges of my mind.
Turning off the path he leads me behind a huge boulder, when apprehension grips me. If he was anyone else I'd fear ill intent, yet the rocks shift in the warped reality of a melting mirage, opening up to this walking god, exposing a tunnel into the mountainside.
“Welcome to Utgard,” he purrs seductively, tugging me through a film of glossy light.
It looks like an ethereal curtain of peacock-blue saran-wrap, thin and icy. I've heard the firmament is only an inch thick, and this is how I imagine it looks, transparent but with color; the shade of liberation.
Exhilaration replaces apprehension, claiming my mouth in wonder at this enchanting venture. Holding my jar ahead of me, I let nature light my way as I step from my realm into his. “Why do we walk inside the mountain?”
Pausing with me, glancing back at the translucent entrance, he says with humor evident, “It's a shortcut. I don't fly and I refuse to travel by boat. This is the fastest way to traverse the globe without detection and without the sniffers riding my arse.”
In a capricious turnabout he body slams me into
Best decision of my life!
I am relieved he's not taking me toward town, but away from it. I guess that's the bonus to living on the outskirts with my humble garden edging up the slope.
It's still dark and I feel silly holding a jar of fireflies in the dead of winter. It certainly is beginning to feel like the adventure he promised.
“Are you aware that you chose to live in an area that previously was a Scandinavian settlement?” he says, making conversation while we walk.
“ It is?”
He pauses for me to reach his side, slipping his arm about my waist and strolling with me in the brisk predawn, “Ah, complacency keeps folks ignorant, doesn't it? Keswick was once called Kēsewīc. It means farm where they make cheese .”
“ Oh,” I mumble, looking back across the valley while thunder peals in the distance. “Are they hunting you?” I ask, indicating the ominous nimbus galloping toward us, sparking danger across the sky.
“ They're just nosy. They seem to find me an endless curiosity, one they love to taunt.”
“ Why? Why do your elders rebuke you?” I pry.
Leug stalls with me, holding me close, feeling profound and safe lining my back with his arms folded across my breasts.
“Lara, my side of the story is never told. They have lived under Odin for so long that they forget Odin answers to someone greater than he ever was. Modern books and tales pay homage and respect to Odin because he was a charismatic leader who knew how to work a crowd. But he also has a filthy temper, and that made him a brute and a dangerous enemy. Those watchers up there track me purely for him. I once took away his source of immortality and he has never forgiven me for it. It's a vendetta with no end. His pride and ego are diabolical.”
“ Who are they?” I ask, sorry now that I've ruined our easy companionship with my inquisitive need for answers.
“ The favorites,” he mutters, his tone decidedly bitter. Releasing me, he recaptures my hand, hooking it into the crook of his arm, offering me an affectionate smile, “We can discuss my brotherhood later. Now, I have a way to escape them.”
He gives me a conspiratorial wink, his voice back to that low level gravel rumble that makes me think of hot dry desert where the roads are corrugated and malevolent.
His voice is seductive, husky, commanding, and mesmerizing. I could listen to him all day, mentally salivating while the coarseness in his voice rakes sharp teeth through my soul, studding my insides with desire, grazing away the edges of my mind.
Turning off the path he leads me behind a huge boulder, when apprehension grips me. If he was anyone else I'd fear ill intent, yet the rocks shift in the warped reality of a melting mirage, opening up to this walking god, exposing a tunnel into the mountainside.
“Welcome to Utgard,” he purrs seductively, tugging me through a film of glossy light.
It looks like an ethereal curtain of peacock-blue saran-wrap, thin and icy. I've heard the firmament is only an inch thick, and this is how I imagine it looks, transparent but with color; the shade of liberation.
Exhilaration replaces apprehension, claiming my mouth in wonder at this enchanting venture. Holding my jar ahead of me, I let nature light my way as I step from my realm into his. “Why do we walk inside the mountain?”
Pausing with me, glancing back at the translucent entrance, he says with humor evident, “It's a shortcut. I don't fly and I refuse to travel by boat. This is the fastest way to traverse the globe without detection and without the sniffers riding my arse.”
In a capricious turnabout he body slams me into
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