"Halla, you stupid girl, you should know this by now!" Dad says with stern scorn as I cower before his ire, "Swords are the companions of heroes and, thus, grant more ordstirr than any other weapon. Saxes provide their wielders the ability to impart greater force and, as such, are found in the hands of the physically powerful! Axes split through armor and shields like so much firewood and spears deliver wounds best of all weapons!"


    I wake to a cold sweat despite the sleeping furs. The crackling of the hearth-flame does little to warm my shivering skin as my heart beats a frantic tempo in my ears. I groan as I clap hands to my head and ride out the last waves of heart-shaking terror.


    Gods, I''m even having nightmares about training.


    I wince as sunlight trickles through the smoking-holes, the nose-tickling light hinting at just how late in the day it is. I''m all alone in the hearth-room, the rest of the household out bringing in the harvest. A smile spreads across my face as I relax, falling back amidst the warm embrace of countless furs.


    Rightfully, I should feel nothing but shame for lazing about while there''s harvesting to be done. I should leap to my feet and join my family in their work. Instead, I let loose a blissful sigh as I nestle deeper into the furs.


    I never thought this day would come, that I would rather be inside than out in the wilds. Somehow, though, the constant training and lessons have succeeded where a decade of mothering failed.


    Yesterday, I was carrying a log on my shoulders while dodging fireballs, rocks, and root-spikes. Not only that, but I had to do it while balancing on a narrow beam suspended over cattle filth. And if that wasn''t enough, I also had to recite the twelfth, third, and seventh stanzas of the Kunnaspekin—in that order.


    ...I didn''t get a very good score yesterday.


    So, I''m quite happy that Dad and Mom let me sleep in today, even with all the work that needs doing. As long as I don''t make too much noise, nobody''ll know I''m up!


    "Halla''s awake!" My jar shouts at the top of its... Lungs, I guess? Magical lung constructs, probably.


    "Curse you, Jar!" I grumble as I bury my face in the furs. Despite how warm and comfortable the furs are, I know it can''t last forever. Mom''ll tan my hide if she catches me falling asleep after I woke up, after all.


    Kinda funny, really, that her threats still hold weight even after all these months of training. Even if I could break her over my knee, she''s still my Mom.


    …you know, I’m not sure if I could break her over my knee. How strong is Mom, actually?


    Groaning, I haul myself to my feet as I cast a bleary-eyed look around the house. With only my small clothes as protection against the cold, the first step after waking up is to find where in the heck my working clothes got off to.


    Usually, they''re on the ground next to my bench-spot. I know, I know, leaving clothes on packed earth will only dirty them, but it''s not my choice, honest! Every night, I leave them on the bench, but I move around so much that they always wind up on the floor!


    My hand first finds my long-forgotten dress and I pause, its fabric untouched for many months. Dresses don''t handle well in the training field, so I''ve long since transitioned to wearing tunic and trousers like the men of the family. I need to be careful, of course, as it''s against the law for men to wear women''s clothes. While neither Dad or I know if the reverse is true, it''s better to avoid unnecessary strife. So, until I can snap a man in half with my bare hands, the dress is what I wear when interacting with non-household members.


    It won''t be long till I can do just that, though. Heck, I could probably rip a Christian in half as I am now! Not that Christians are men; after all, they don''t speak the law-tongue!


    Passing over my old dress, I soon find my real clothes and swiftly don both shirt and trousers. My pants are a green-dyed wool while my tunic remains undyed—they were rather quickly made once I nearly ruined my dress in training, so they''re unadorned by any decorations. After securing the tunic in place with a leather belt I loop into a knot, I grab my sax from the wall before pausing at my new shield.


    My old shield was good for little more than food for the fire, which is where it met its fate. The only thing salvageable was the iron boss, which now awaits new wood in the workshop.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "A shield-lacking man is a man soon dead," Dad''s words echo through my ears as I nod at the wisdom. While it is best to never need the shield, having one is infinitely better than not. If the three Outlaws had shields, I would not have won that day, that much I know for a fact.


    My new shield is much heavier than my old shield and has enough surface area that I don''t even need to crouch to take a fighting stance. A warrior should craft his own shield so it can fit his fighting style, but this one will work until I find the time to make my own. I honestly prefer a smaller shield as, much to my chagrin, I''m not exactly the largest of warriors. But a man makes do with what he has available to him.


    Regardless, there''s work to be done before setting-sun. Fastening my sax to my belt and slipping my shield across my back, I step through last-year''s pantry and out into the front yard.


    Piles of grain and mountains of hay greet my sight as sickles and scythes arc across the land beyond the palisade fence. The sun beats down, its warmth blunted by the chill of autumn, as my kin does their work. Dad, unusually, is nowhere to be seen in the fields.


    "Halla!" Eric calls as he drags a large bundle of grain stalks up the hill. It''s easily twice his height, yet he handles it with little issue save for its unwieldy nature, "Asva and Randi are threshing, so help me with the grain!"


    Eyeing the few dozen more bundles of equal or greater size at the bottom of the hill, I snort as I nod, "Struggling so much with so little work, o'' brother of mine? Your healing-rest has left you weak!"


    "Big talk for someone too lazy to wake with the rest of us!" Eric retorts with a smile as he picks up his pace just a tad. He disappears around the back of the house while I trot down the hill. Collecting a bundle of my own, I meet him halfway as I haul it up.


    "Where''s Dad?" I ask Eric as passes me.


    He waves a broad gesture to the west, "He''s visiting with Kerr and Vidar."


    I cock my head to the side, "What for? Are we doing a group sacrifice or something?"


    I don''t get an answer to my question as I soon crest the hill and lose sight of Eric. Dropping the bundle off and giving Asva and Randi my greetings as they take flail to grain, I make my way back down the hill and meet Eric once again.


    "Something like that," Eric gives me my answer, "He said he wanted to offer an apology to the Hading and the proper place to do that is at her Heart."


    "The Heart of the Hading?" My brows lift high as I whistle. The Heart of the Hading is the deepest point in the woods, where the most powerful beasts prowl and monsters lurk behind each and every leaf and twig. "Makes sense why he''d want to go talk to Kerr and Vidar, then, we''ll need their help to make it that deep!"


    "My thoughts exactly," Eric says with a nod as he disappears over the hill.


    We continue our idle chatter while we work, discussing all manner of things from the new toilets at Harvin Tallhouse''s farm to if Lort Blue-Fish would bring more of his eponymous blue fish to the next Thing. Eventually, we finish with yesterday''s bundles and can move the processed grain into storage while the field-workers gather today''s harvest and stack them at the bottom of the hill for tomorrow''s work.


    It''s around this time that Dad comes home, a pensive look on his face.


    A dinner of fresh bread, venison, and sheep-cheese await our hungry stomachs as we eagerly dig in. While we eat, Dad invites me to his side.


    "Halla," he begins after swallowing a mouthful of meat seasoned with the last of the previous year''s herb harvest, "Have you been to the woods lately?"


    I frown and shake my head, "No, I''ve not. Is... Is there something wrong?"


    "The wind whispers words of vengeance, the Hading''s ire falls on our shoulders," Dad says as he sighs, shame in his gaze. "To make things right, we''ll need to make a sacrifice. A potent one, with cow, blood, and runes, delivered to the Heart of the Hading."


    "Eric told me of this," I nod and Dad snorts.


    "Little surprise there, not much else to talk about."


    "I wouldn''t be so certain, Dad," I grin as I lean close, "Harvin Tallhouse got new toilets!"


    Dad chuckles, "Really? I suppose I''ll have to try them out one of these days."


    "Gross," A nearby Asva retches while listening in as I laugh alongside Dad.


    "Regardless of Harvin''s toilet situation," Dad continues once our laughter dies down, "the Heart of the Hading is a full day''s journey, one that would be difficult even without her ire on our heads. We don''t have a choice in the matter."


    My brows furrow, "You speak as if I''m joining you on this venture." Please, please, please, please, please, please, please.


    "I dragged you into this mess," please, please, please, please, please, "so, yes, you will be accompan–"


    "Yes!" I leap to my feet, a cheer on my lips as I shout my joy to the heavens.


    Dad snorts, "I figured you''d be happy."


    Happy? I''m downright ecstatic! “When''re we going?"


    "Once harvest is done, we set out." Dad''s eyes gleam as he smiles, "But don''t think you can slack in your training just because adventure shows its face."


    I groan.