HelevornArt

     “I still can't understand what you see in Yngvar. He's arrogant, aggressive and selfish. And... weird,” Hilgidunn grimaced. “He travels with his own embroidered bedsheets wherever he goes – Hel, even his blue pillow stuffed with goose-feathers! – who does he think he is: the Holy Roman Empress?” She shrugged, utterly revolted. “Are our bedsheets not good enough?”     Eyolf chuckled. “People who sleep in our bedsheets do dirty things, Hildi, he must've sensed that.”     Hildigunn flicked her hand, not amused, fumbling to take some clean laundry off the drying rack. “And

     Galloping in darkness on the untrodden path towards the castle, Dunstan clasped his arms around Merwyn's shoulders to hold the reins. He felt the subtle flowery perfume on her hair and neck, and sighed. He was sworn to protect Merwyn from harm at all cost, and he was honouring his oath; but he was keeping her safe from the Earldorman himself, and, in doing so, breaking the oath to him. Now that Halvor was gone, he was the only one who could protect her. If he was risking his life to keep her secret, now was the moment to ask for something more in return... Strained by the anxiety of the run, fearful at the wrath of his master, drunken by

     “Faster, faster!” the boy blurted as he ran barefoot downhill, vaulting over rocks and fallen branches upon the leaf-coated slope. A brown bear was chasing after him. “Faster, man!” But the man at his side was panting heavily. He was ten steps behind the boy, his knee-high boots barely dodging the obstacles in their path, weary under the weight of the sack he was carrying on one shoulder.     “Drop it, man, let it go,” the boy prompted, his black brow frowning. But the man's grip tightened upon the mouth of the sack instead, and his head shook in dismissal. At the foot of the hill he stopped, crouc