Free The Sleeping Army by Francesca Simon

ears,’ grunted Snot.
    â€˜One thing I don’t understand,’ said Freya. ‘Why would Loki give Idunn to a giant?’
    â€˜Why. Why. Why. Gods, do you ever stop asking questions?’ muttered Snot. He rolled his eyes.
    â€˜Loki attacked an eagle who turned out to be the giant Thjazi in disguise,’ said Roskva. ‘Thjazi grabbedLoki and smashed him into boulders and thorns until Loki swore he would bring Idunn to him.’
    â€˜Why did Loki keep his promise?’ said Freya.
    â€˜You must understand something,’ said Alfi. ‘Loki’s father was a giant. So. Is he loyal to the Gods? Or to the giants?’
    â€˜The Gods do what they like,’ said Roskva. ‘We mortals live with the consequences.’ She and Alfi looked at one another in silence.
    â€˜The Valkyries snatched me from battle,’ said Snot. ‘I was fighting.
I
was winning. But Woden sent the Choosers of the Slain to take
me
and not the filthy son of a mare I was walloping.’ He shrugged. ‘If a man knew his fate he’d go mad.’
    â€˜Your fish is burning,’ said Roskva.
    Wrinkling her nose at the acrid smell, Freya withdrew the blackened chunk. Tentatively she took a tiny bite. The flesh was burnt on the outside, and raw on the inside. She forced herself to eat a bit more, her stomach heaving.
    Freya felt them before she heard it. A thin, deep-pitched, hungry howl. And then another. And another.
    Her skin prickled. She whimpered and edged closer to the fire. The other three grabbed flaming sticks and stood with their backs to the heat, facing outward.Freya caught a glimpse of glowing amber-red eyes. She had no idea what to do. Roskva pulled out her knife.
    Snot ran bellowing into the trees, brandishing the burning wood and wielding his sword. Alfi hesitated and drew his sword, uncertain whether to follow or stay.
    â€˜Oh, give me that,’ screamed Roskva, snatching his blade and edging towards the forest.
    â€˜Oy! I was just about to—’ spluttered Alfi, grabbing it back, when Snot reappeared from the darkness.
    â€˜The wolves have gone,’ said Snot. The firelight glistened on his bloody sword. ‘But not for long. We’ll keep watch tonight. Now that they’ve smelt us, they won’t leave us.’
    They huddled close together by the fire, the night around them thick and black as the clouds hid the half-moon. Freya bit her lip hard to stop herself bursting into tears.
    â€˜Anyone know any poetry?’ said Alfi. His voice trembled. ‘What about Egil Skallagrimsson?’
    â€˜Who?’ said Freya. Her voice was also shaky.
    â€˜You’ve never heard of him?’ said Alfi.
    â€˜Nope,’ said Freya.
    â€˜Unbelievable,’ said Alfi. ‘What about Eyvind the Plagiarist?’
    Freya shook her head. ‘I know a bit of Shakespeare… we studied
Hamlet
in school.’ Her voice quavering, she recited:
    To be or not to be; that is the question:
whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
—
    â€˜Who?’ interrupted Roskva. ‘He’s terrible.’
    â€˜What about Audun the Uninspired?’ said Snot. ‘I always liked Audun.’
    â€˜Let’s hear it,’ said Alfi.
    Snot stood, sword drawn, left hand on his hip, and recited, his gravelly voice low:
    Oh battle bright warrior
How the gold of your brooch-goddess gleams
Too soon raven’s food litters the blood-soaked ground
Wolf’s teeth stained with blood
.
    Alfi clapped. His sword, Freya noticed, was clutched tight in his hand.
    â€˜Do you know anything more cheerful?’ said Freya. The thought of bloody wolf’s teeth was a little close to home at the moment.
    â€˜Cheerful!’ Snot spat. He thought for a moment. ‘There’s always that funny poem of Eyvind’s …
    My sword, flame of battle
Digs deep in enemy ribs.
Wound-sea pours red from the trailing guts
My shield-splitting arm
Hacks him to