Free Icefall by Matthew J. Kirby Page B

whole steading in fresh milk, but they produce enough that we don’t feel so far away from home. I’ll miss the skyr and curd when we have to butcher the cows for meat, and judging by our stores of pork and dried fish, that isn’t too far off.
     
    After I’ve served Harald, I dish some up from the crock for Asa and myself, and I sit to eat it. But before I’ve taken my first bite, I look up at those sitting around me, those eating something other than skyr.
     
    Bera always insists the sour milk and curds go to Harald, Asa, or me before she offers what’s left to any of the men. And there’s an order there as well. Per is first to receive a portion, then Hake, then Per’s men, then the berserkers. Poor Ole is last because he is a thrall, so he never gets any. Bera doesn’t take any for herself, but I am sure she lets Raudi eat some occasionally. I hope she does.
     
    Harald scoops his into his mouth until his bowl is empty. Everyone watches him and he grins.
     
    I pause before eating mine, and stare into the bowl. Then I get up from my bench and cross the room to where Ole and Raudi are sitting next to each other.
     
    “Would you two like to share this?” I ask.
     
    They look up at me and then at each other.
     
    “Thank you,” Raudi says, and takes the bowl from my hands.
     
    Ole sucks on one of his cheeks like he’s puzzling something over. “That’s yours,” he says.
     
    “I want you to have some. We should all have a share.” I look at Raudi. “Eat.”
     
    But he has refrained. He looks back and forth between us as if Ole’s words have made him unsure of what he should do.
     
    Ole looks at the bowl in Raudi’s lap. “If you insist.”
     
    “I do,” I say. Before he can summon any further protest, I turn and walk away.
     
    This place has done strange things to the people I know. Before coming here, Ole was always a friend to me, but he seems to resent me now. And he is not the only one who has changed. Bera no longer hums while she cooks at the hearth. Harald seems even more impatient and impulsive than he usually is. Asa’s beauty used to have a rich glow, like a golden summer evening when the setting sun seems to light the fields on fire as it touches them. Now her beauty has become a winter wood, stark and frosted and still. It makes me wonder how I have changed.
     
    I catch Bera’s eye as I return to my bench, and she seems pleased at what I have done. From across the room I watch Ole and Raudi enjoy the skyr. Moments later, Ole licks his lips and lifts the empty bowl in salute to me.
     
    After the day meal, Bera sends me to milk the cows. I do so, missing Hilda, but as I haul the sloshing bucket across the yard, there is a sudden break in the gray sky above, as thougha giant has pulled away a fistful of clouds, and I am awash in sunshine. True sunshine. Not warm, but bright, and I smile.
     
    After handing the milk off to Bera, I pick up Muninn’s cage and carry it outside. I set it on a snowbank and sit down next to it, my arm draped over the top. Muninn grows still, looking around, the sun threading his feathers with glints of silver shine. I close my eyes and tilt my face up toward the light, and we sit together enjoying it for some time.
     
    Then a shadow falls across me, and at first I think it’s a cloud, but when I open my eyes I see Hake standing over me.
     
    “May I sit next to you?” he asks.
     
    His request startles me, but I am not as uneasy in his presence as I used to be. “Of course.”
     
    He lowers himself onto the snowbank beside me, emitting a low grunt. He looks around me at Muninn, smiles, and squints up at the sun. Moments pass. The silence between us feels awkward to me, but I don’t think it bothers him at all.
     
    “Thank you again for my raven,” I say.
     
    “You’re welcome.”
     
    More silence, and thoughts from his conversation with Harald come to my mind.
     
    “Hake?” I say, feeling bold.
     
    “Yes?”
     
    “Do you ever wish