Odin's Prize

Truths

Midnight Horizon

The silver light of the crescent moon barely casting the trees in shadow. Getting off the ground, letting the scent of him soak into my underwear as I pull them up along with my pants.

Brushing the dirt off from my clothing, making sure my face feels clean, before moving in any direction.

What direction do I go in?

My father's house?

Tell them all what just happened?

Trying to expand lungs that feel more made of iron than tissue, strangling within myself for air. A heart rate that's trotting down instead of galloping at full speed.

Lifting my nose to the air, his scent cocooning around the entire length of my body. Picking up the crumpled piece of paper it's a blue flower, detailed intricately.

Odin's best work yet. He's becoming an artist.

He used pencil for the stalk and leaves but for the petals, he used the color that matches my eyes best. It has no explanation of what the stem or root bulb does, it's just a pretty picture on a white page. I could frame it but the way it's been crumpled up there is no smoothing out the creases.

To My Monster

The color of this flower matches your eyes.

Odin

Rising guilt always makes nausea cling to the sides of my stomach in a rolling motion that swishes the taste of bile making it cling to the back of my throat.

Tucking the paper into the journal, securing it into my satchel before looking down at Odin's footprints deep in the wet ground, they lead in the direction of the Far North Territory.

There's a need to find, to explain that it's not what wickedness he believes he's smelling.

Autopilot guiding leading to Lana's cabin. Peering through the window candle flame flickering in the darkness casting a softened glow to the inside or her dwelling. The wax melting, dripping down the body, she's not inside. Going around the back, she's on a blanket facing the fire cross-legged with her back to me. Approaching loudly she doesn't turn my way only remains transfixed by the fires.

A delicate tea cup dropped at her side, hands resting on her lap.

Motionless

When coming around to her side, she's looking directly into the flames with her eyes open but holds no color. Backing away from her side she gives me no acknowledgment of my presence. Picking up the cup, sniffing the inside of it, mushroom tea with a hint of mint. Lana never allows me the mushroom tea ever always stating I'm not ready for that journey, yet.

To dangerous.

It's useless to wake her, she'll be like that for hours and hours.

A sinister feeling as if the shadows are starting to press in growing closer, or is that a trick of the eye?

A hint of decay shifting in the air. The hairs on my arms starting to rise is the vibration of power, the feeling is heavy, a sustained presence vibrating around my skin, pressing in only for the wolf inside to press back repelling the being that wants inside. All of Nature's voices starting to rise up with the disturbance that's felt.

"You should go find Odin." Lana's voice is not her's, this voice is distorted, almost holding a sinister edge to it. Looking down at Lana, she's still staring at the fire, marble still. It's her eyes that have changed from just white sclera to moon-glow brilliance.