The snow was left behind as Ingrid made her way down into the foothills. It was a long walk, but the path was well laid, and the sound of the wind twining through the trees helped her relax. She should make more effort to come out for walks like this. Too often she stayed in the lodge, not daring to pass the gauntlet of stares and not-so-subtle elbow nudges to escape the population of Hoelbrak. But it was peaceful here, and empty enough that she didn't have to keep her chin tucked a hair's breadth from her neck all the time.
The weather was cold but clear, and the air was fresh with the scent of recent snow melt and earth. When she spotted the clearing ahead where the training encampment was, she knew she's gone far enough, and turned off the path into the trees. The ground was still soft and springy, and her boots left clear footprints which she wrinkled her nose at – but no matter. Who would be tracking her? It was she who was the huntress, though she would barely admit that, even to herself.
After all, she wasn't hunting to make a name, only taking a walk alone, and if she happened to make a kill and prove she wasn't a coward – to Gudrun, so she could put an end to that line of her mother's complaints – well then, so be it. But she didn't care what other anyone thought of her, not really.
What was a reputation, anyway, if not a way of putting others down? All her life people had spoken of their great deeds, and in the same breath mocked her for what was beyond her control. Slow to talk and slower to talk without a slur, she had let them get on with it, forcing herself to care less and less each time the insults came her way. Kill or be killed, her mother tended to think, and why shouldn't she? Life worked out just fine for her. Even losing her partner had been a tale of note; she had carried his battered body on her back for a day and a night so his funeral pyre could be lit in safety.
Ingrid hadn't envied her that task and still didn't. There were other ways to gain glory, she thought as she spied the tracks of an alpine skelk and sank into a predatory crouch. Skills learned at the insistence of her mother, and honed avoiding other young norn came into play, and she moved noiselessly through the forest. Eventually she caught up with her target, and raised her pistol slowly; sword at the ready just in-case she had a misfire. The skelk stopped, and raised its head, sniffing the wind.
Exhale she thought, her father's voice echoing in her mind. Fire. The skelk dropped, a bullet lodged in its spine. The thrill of triumph Ingrid felt at her first solo kill was quickly dwarfed by regret that her father wasn't there to give her a bear hug or pat her on the shoulder, and then a lack of direction. What now? She'd killed the thing – and skelk were egg-stealing pests, so someone somewhere would benefit from there being one less of the dratted things – but it wasn't exactly something she could go home and boast about. Skelk were killed every day. She stood, and strode over to the carcass, no longer caring about the noise she made. Quickly and carelessly she beheaded it with her sword, and then spent a little longer over removing the claws. Cleaned, they might make a nice trim for a skirt or tunic.
She turned to go back the way she had come and nearly jumped out of her skin. Behind her stood a Raven shaman, eyeing her critically. She cringed, and turned her face away, then risked a look back. He was still staring at her, arms folded.
“Well, I see why they call you the Coward, Ingrid Gudrunsdottir,” he remarked eventually. “Cringing little thing, aren't you?”
Ingrid turned red with shame, and hung her head, saying nothing.
The Raven shaman spoke again. “I thought as much. You let your fears dictate you, child. Until you master them, norn everywhere will scorn your name.” Ingrid looked up, scowling. “Raven thanks you for slaying that egg-thief, and offers this advice: 'We all have fears; dark thoughts that eat away at the courage in our hearts. But until we seek those fears and learn their names, we cannot hope to banish them. True courage lies in facing down your flaws.' Think upon Raven's words, young norn, and find what it is that you fear. Only then will you be able to conquer it.”
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