Cold. Wet. Those were the two things I first became aware of before opening my eyes. And they opened to whiteness. As I pushed myself up, I vaguely began to realise I had been on my stomach in the snow.
My front was damp but my undergarments and cloak remained dry. It wasn't until I saw the black and red patches in the white snow did I remember where I was and why.
Thor... Thor, Lady Sif, the Warriors Three, and I were searching for my fiancé, Theoric, and the rest of the Crimson Hawks. We had journeyed to Jotunheim, the last place they had been. We had not told the Allfather of our quest, knowing he would not have approved. At the time, I was willing to play any price if it had meant seeing my Theoric again. But as I lay in the snow, with the blood of both Æsir and giants surrounding me, I began to doubt the Allfather wouldn't be so sympathetic if the price was his fallen son.
Pieces of the battle floated into my mind as I sat up. I think we were close to winning when a frost giant knocked me out. The bodies of the Jotunn were long gone. I would assume their friends had taken them after the fight. For the briefest of moments, I wondered why they left me while they took the others. I nearly cried in relief when I realised they were alive; no giant would ever grant an Æsir with a funeral.
Or perhaps they took them to eat them... I quickly shook that thought from me. They were alive, I was sure of it.
Standing, I followed their trail; silently hoping my silver dagger would be enough to save them.