Chapter 2 #2
“With your back, little raven!” Freyr fired a running shot like I had, barely an arm’s length from me now, and the arrow zipped so near to the stag’s head, it buzzed its ear, sending it into a faster gallop.
I knew to use my back, but I had no proper anchor while in motion. I also had my hair plastered across my eyes. Worse was how Freyr was miraculously dry, as if a bubble of clear skies existed only for the god of nature.
I kicked his ankle, stumbling him into the nearest tree and breaking him out of whatever spell he’d cast to keep dry. He was as drenched as I was in moments.
“Scoundrel!” he accused.
“Just following my lord’s example!” I sprinted ahead.
I would never get in a good shot while running though; I didn’t have the skills. I had to use my speed, get as close to the stag as possible, plant myself, and fire with proper support. So that was what I strove to do while keeping my ears open for Freyr’s pursuit.
The downpour stopped, giving way to the rising sun, as was expected from a bested nature god.
We were coming upon another clearing, with other animals disturbed by our hunt and fleeing ahead of us.
Once the stag reached the opening, Freyr’s superior skills would outshine mine if I didn’t fire my arrow first.
I could hear him closing in on me and pushed myself with one last burst of speed before digging in my heels and calling upon my back muscles to carry my aim true. Just as I drew my arrow, Freyr appeared beside me, drawing an arrow of his own in almost perfect sync, and then—
My string snapped, and the arrow that would have loosed fell at my feet.
Freyr’s boisterous laugh nearly doubled him over with his arrow still nocked.
I couldn’t help but laugh too. We were both soaked and smudged with dirt, and our hard-earned quarry was halfway to Asgard. As we laughed and caught our breaths, Freyr put his arrow away and clapped a hand on my shoulder.
“No one ever said our storyteller and stablemaster was a hunter, eh?”
“I missed because my string snapped! And I am admittedly terrible at this. What’s your excuse?”
Freyr wiped some of the wetness from his eyes, tears from laughing mixed with lingering rainwater, and then settled his green gaze on me. “I was distracted by the scenery.”
Even chilled from the short-lived storm, my subsequent shiver was from anything but the cold. After all, the coming dawn was warm, as was the touch on my shoulder, for Freyr was the one who summoned the sun.
He looked so beautiful as he was in that moment, waterlogged and speckled with dirt, just looking at me like he hadn’t had this much fun in ages.
“There it is,” I said.
“What?” Freyr turned to look around us as if the stag might reappear.
I lifted my free hand to fold over his on my shoulder and never once looked away from his handsome visage.
“Every once in a while, very rarely, you drop the mask that hides your sorrow. I know this is one of those times because your happiness is genuine, but your pain remains like clouds covering it.”
More pain bled into Freyr’s expression, burdened as he was by anyone knowing he felt it.
“It is okay to feel joy and sadness, Fricco, and to let it be seen.” I brushed my cheek against our connected hands.
Freyr pulled his hand away but only so he could stroke a finger along my chin. “Kings, let alone gods, little raven, are not allowed such luxury in front of their people.”
“But you are when you are with me.”
Freyr’s eyes drifted to my lips, then up, then to my lips again, like he was hesitant to take what this moment was drawing us into. Perhaps, in some things, I needed to be the one to lead.
I stepped closer and tilted my chin up.
Something barreled into us, bowling us over onto the ground.
I was so stunned, so winded by the unexpected impact, all I could do was struggle for breath, but Freyr’s godly reflexes far surpassed mine.
He snatched up my previously lost arrow, and while whatever beast that had rammed into us was equally struggling to right itself, Freyr pinned it and drove the arrow into its heart.
Rammed was right, for the beast was a beautiful, black-furred ram, impressively large with fine ebony horns at a gentle curve, no doubt having been spooked by our commotion in the woods.
The ram stilled, dead almost instantly, and though Freyr too was panting, he smiled over the intruding beast between us and said, “Not our stag, but looks like I win.”
“But… that’s my—”
“Don’t be a sore loser, Ravnur.”
I flopped onto my back—and noticed that my pendant had dislodged from my tunic!
Swiftly, I shoved it back out of view just as Freyr leapt to his feet, hefted the ram up over his shoulders, and grinned down at me like a barn cat who had just caught a… well.
Raven.
“Best get this back to town for cleaning, eh? Or at least back to Gull, so we can try our hands at another hunt. You can borrow my bow. Work on that form of yours.”
“Just so long as there aren’t any more wagers.”
“It was your idea!”
I scowled, but when Freyr, effortlessly carrying the ram across his shoulders, still reached a hand down to offer me assistance, I took it.
I wasn’t really upset. As much as I longed to know the taste of his lips, I was glad to have exactly what we did. To spend time together with all my feelings for him out in the open, and him willing to discover whether he could share them without any of it stifling the friendship we’d fostered.
Besides, Freyr looked impossibly handsome carrying the beast he had slain, and eventually, after he no doubt outshined me again while helping me work on my form, I would get to hold onto him during the trip home.
I carried our bows as we headed back toward Gull.
“Well?” I called after Freyr.
“Well what?”
“What are you going to request for our next outing, oh champion?”
“Oh! That’s easy! Since hunting is my forte, next, little raven, I want to enjoy yours.” He glanced at me with a roughish grin. “Think on your favorite tale, dear storyteller, for I will be looking forward to hearing it.”
A performance, like one of any number of nights in years past when I captivated Freyr and sometimes the entire city with a tale or two.
So be it. If that was what he wanted, it was an easy request, for while Freyr might think he had put me on the spot, I knew exactly which tale I would tell.