Odin's Prize

Am I Normal?

Peering

A head cocked to the side, a hollow caw comes out of the crows open beak, while Morvared leads the way towards her house. No drifting snow to go through, the path is without difficulty even the glacier wind has died down to just a hint of a breeze. The sun so bright it disguises the cold momentary.

Her house is nestled in a grove of enormous trees that stand tall yet minimal not bearing the leafy foliage of summer. Many gathered crows nesting high in the branches, sitting motionless like black feathered statues waiting on the healer's arrival home.

There is a familiarity with this place as if I've seen this structure before. When she opens the door, it's reflective of the cottage in the East; only it's switched around, things are on the left instead of the right.

"Charlie, come inside." The Crows, in one startling movement, spread their broad wings stretching them out to ride the current of air in all directions. Only the crow that has been following Morvared stays, perched on her windowsill, pulling its robe of feathers tight around its body, settling in its spot.

Stepping into her home, a powerful steady rhythm assaults my inner senses; there is a beating breathing pulse of life in here. The current has a strong pull, towing me in while the door behind me closes.

We both get out of our furs, hanging them up.

"Tea, Charlie?" Morvared's nose is flaring before a pitch of black consumes the color that matches my mother's.

"What kind of tea?" Leery of this wolf.

"Nothing that can affect you, more for me." Her direction turns towards the wood stove; a cast iron tea pot sits as if waiting for this very moment for guest to arrive.

Looking around, the rafters filled with hanging dried herb bundles. Mason jars full of oils that have roots rendering their properties in the mixture. Mortar and pestle of all variety garnish the dwelling as if they are decorations instead of her needed tools of her trade. Her collection is breathtaking, without thought, my finger traces the rim of the marble one. A giddiness is spreading with an inability to hide my smile. A sigh speaks out when my finger lands on the open journal on the table, carefully illustrated treasure of what each portion of that plant holds. The book is old, so ancient that the corners have turned brittle yellow. I would need to be very careful to turn the pages in fear that the book could come apart.

"Sorry," pulling my hand quickly away from her property I haven't been permitted to touch.

"Charlie, you can touch anything you want in here. Think of this place as your home now. Anytime you want to come; the door will always be open." Morvared's eyes are back to her colorful Blues.

Before taking a seat at the table, a gasp rushes outward from deep within my throat. Heart stopping, wide eyes, the bookshelf holds ancient leather bound journals.

"My collection, feel free to take one to read when you leave." Morvared smiles with ease.

"Thank you; I'll borrow one tonight."

"Please sit." Her voice is a gentle guide in the power of instruction. She closes the book gingerly while pushing it to the edge of the table. The crow just on the outside is watching the interaction of the inside.

She looks just like an older version of my mother, and I can't help but linger over her features with a heart pain because I wish my mom were here.

"You hold my look; it's remarkable the resemblance of character." She starts our conversation while pouring the tea.

"You look like an older version of my mother. Your eyes are the same color." Her lips curve in an upward arch when the last of my words are spoken out, the crow nods its head, agreeing.