Hilda and the Magic Feather

Chapter 5: A Light in the Black

It happened again. After Frida stopped by to drop off Twig, explaining that she had a falling out with Hilda, Johanna sat patiently in her living room, staring at the door in anticipation of her daughter's return that evening. She didn't. Hours passed, but there was no sign of her.

Before she knew it, morning had come, awaking to the sound of Twig's loud barking. Her eyes shooting open, she leapt to her feet and bolted for Hilda's room, expecting her to have crashed out on her bed.

But she wasn't there.

Her heart sank. The day rolled on, and she waited. She tried to distract herself, focusing on her graphic design work, but it did little help. No matter how many times she reviewed her specifications, the ideas wouldn't flow, her worry drowning any creativity she could muster.

Hours turned to days, and still, Hilda was nowhere to be seen. She called Frida and David multiple times, growing ever more desperate for news of her daughter. Yet the answers were always the same; they hadn't heard or seen anything of her since their fight. Worse still, neither Alfur nor Tontu had heard from her.

With no leads and no further information, Johanna was left with only one option. Printing out a large stack of missing posters, she handed them out to anyone she could before making her way into the wilderness.

*********

Frida lay awake in bed, her blank stare affixed to the ceiling. The Rokh had survived, thanks largely to her quick thinking, but for as long as she lived, she would never forget the demoralised look in its eyes, its spirit shattered – a sentiment she found relatable.

She'd led Twig and David back down the mountain without further incident, though neither of them said a word to each other. She'd argued with Hilda before, but it had never been so ferocious - all their other past problems seemed tiny in comparison.

So, that's it then? I've really done it this time. I pushed her away, and now she's gone for good.

The thought weighed on her like an Albatross about her neck. Hilda wasn't entirely wrong - she was fighting to protect her friends. So why couldn't she acknowledge she was taking things too far?

She rolled over onto her stomach, her head buried in her pillow. She had to say something. Hilda could have killed the Rokh. She had to stop her. So why had the cost of doing the right thing been her familiar? What more would she have to sacrifice to do the right thing?

Letting out a frustrated groan, she threw her pillow across the room, knocking a pile of Hilda's clothes off her chair. She'd returned to the spot where Hilda had undressed daily, always finding them there, covered under a small pile of leaves. Even if she had run away from home, as was looking more likely, why hadn't she come back for them?

Frida only had a rudimentary understanding of how the Ulfhednar magic worked. If her behaviour at the ruins was any indication, she would be warm enough whenever she was in human form. Though she had only known of Hilda's powers recently, she hadn't anticipated she'd abandon all human social conventions, clothes included.

In the end, she couldn't leave them out there. If Hilda didn't come to get them, someone else would. That would put her in even bigger trouble, to say nothing of the potential strain on the already tenuous relationship between humans and trolls.

Shutting her eyes tight, Frida tried to relax, but it made no difference. The same worries kept swirling around her head, repeating over and over in an endless loop. Oh, Hilda... she thought solemnly. I wish I knew where you were. Right or wrong, all I want is to know you're safe.