Chapter Thirty-eight

They had to stop again. Ivar stood, his hand clutched to his side, his chest heaving, and that arm around Enid's shoulder growing heavier and heavier.

"Come on, Ivar," she said. "We're almost there."

He lifted his head, looking at the door to the barn and nodding, and then he gritted his teeth, wheezing and panting as he put one foot in front of the other and he crashed to the hay with a hiss when they got there, the colour draining from his face as he closed his eyes and breathed. Enid stared at him for a moment, not sure if she should leave him, but then she darted back to the house, asking Freya for supplies before she returned.

She didn't like that burning in the pit of her stomach as she stood there watching him, one that reminded all too much of that fear she'd felt back at the church or when he'd whipped her. How much had changed since that day, how broken he looked now, lying in the hay, panting and clutching at his side. Enid shook her head, trying to bury that sense of weightlessness, trying to ease that tension in her spine, and then she threw that thick fur over him, wringing a cloth from a pail and washing his face clean.

"Thank you, Enid," he whispered, and she looked at him, at those eyes still half-closed but watching her and she shook her head again.

"Just get some rest," she said, but then she felt that hand grip her wrist, surprisingly strong and fierce as he stared at her, his forehead lining in a slight crease, those eyes somehow dark, somehow shining bright all at once. "I didn't do much," she whispered. "They're strong, Ivar, stronger than I'll ever be. You taught them that, but I… I meant what I said. I want to protect them and I will."

He closed his eyes, his head sinking a little lower in the hay as he whispered, "Wake me if you hear anything. I'm trusting you."

That night she laid there, cold and stiff, unsure if she should sleep at all, unsure that she would ever wake again if she did. Every time she closed her eyes she heard something, a footstep through the wall behind them, some creature rummaging through the hay, and every time she opened her eyes the air grew colder, so cold she felt the tip of her nose burn and her toes and fingers go numb, and then Ivar sighed in his sleep, curling an arm under her neck and pulling her to his chest. For a moment she couldn't breathe, the weight of his head pressing into the back of hers and that arm wrapped around her neck too great, but then he sighed again, burying his face in her shoulder, like Frigga so often did to him, and growing heavier.

Enid's heart raced, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. She should push him away, she knew that, she knew that this was wrong, but he was so warm, so warm she stopped shaking, so warm the tips of her fingers stopped stinging and her joints stopped aching, so she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and burying her face under the fur and she slept.

When she heard the sound of real footsteps outside, she started awake and she felt him grow tense behind her, felt those fingers uncurl from her shoulder and that arm lay flat underneath her as she watched the barn door. She could see little slits of the farm outside, grey and misty with early morning fog, the light outside just enough to show the fields, that billowing mist just enough to hide them again, and then the door slid to the side and Freya stepped in, two bowls of food in her hands as her eyes scanned for them. Enid sighed then, sitting up and wrapping her arms around herself to try to keep warm.

"Enid, you must be freezing," Freya said, as she hurried to them.

She put the bowls down beside them, kneeling in front of Enid and rubbing her arms, and for a long while Enid only sat there shivering, wanting nothing else than to lie back down and sleep under the fur and against him.

"This is all your fault," Freya said, her eyes turning into thin slits as she glared down at Ivar and Ivar stared at her a moment, his eyes unblinking, his face slack and pale, but then he sighed, bracing and wincing as he sat up and groaned.

"Maybe," was all he said.

"I'll ask Hilda for some new clothes before she goes, Enid. You can't sleep out here like this again."

"It's alright, Freya," Enid said. "She wouldn't give them to me anyway."

Freya leaned back, those hands on Enid's arms going still until she squeezed and let go. "You're probably right," she said. "But I'll ask anyway… How are you doing?" she asked, glaring at Ivar from the corner of her eye.

For a while he only watched her, saying nothing until he gripped her by the back of the head and pulled her so that she was lying with her head in his lap.

"You saved me, Freya," he said, his voice soft and quiet, his fingers trailing her cheek.

She laid there a little while, her face a tight scowl, her body stiff and tense, but then she sighed and mumbled, "Of course, I did."

Ivar laughed, a laugh that was short and light as he held her there and Freya rummaged through her skirts, reaching her hand into a pocket and pulling out two small antlers.

"I made these for you," she said, and Ivar took them, holding onto her hand and kissing her fingers before he did.

"They'll work," he said. "I can feel it. Now go help your brother get ready."