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In the forest, the sun shone cold light over the snow. She used to take it's glittering for granted, but after two years at sea it was still breathtaking.
Two years, it almost felt like a waste now.
Even having left nothing, and gaining everything, she couldn't help regretting it. Foolhardy and cruel was what she'd been.
There was no use in punishing an animal for behaving like one.
She took in a long breath.
The winter air was sharp, almost cutting into her mouth as she inhaled.
The country was almost like home.
This, she could be thankful for.
In the evening, Gudrid came to her. Their dinner was cooking over a fire still, rabbit stew. She had an air of relief, tension that had been in her since she and Hild met finally gone.
The first thing she did was drag her away into a hug.
"I'm so glad you've forgiven Thorfinn." She said, muffled into the top of her head.
Was that what he was saying?
She gave her a second more of reverie before taking her by the shoulders and putting a little space between them. Gudrid, who'd been standing over her, took it as a sign to sit down.
"That isn't what happened. Did he tell you that?"
It shouldn't matter, if he had. If he didn't understand, then so be it. It wouldn't change anything, really. Even still, she just couldn't sit with the idea.
That he thought it was okay.
"...Really? Well, no, actually, it was," She hesitated, an embarrassed flush over her face, "it was actually Karli who said it. Usually he's... weirdly reliable with news, for a five year old."
Brushing her hair back, she relaxed.
Sociable and perceptive, usually his comments on the islands affairs were rather accurate. He was a strangely smart boy, all things considered.
But if he'd gotten the idea she'd forgiven Thorfinn, then she imagined that must make him very happy.
"We can let him think that." She turned back to the fire, tending their dinner.
Gudrid sat back, her hands on her knees.
"What did happen, then?"
"I gave up my grudge. There's nothing more he can do to make things right with me."
She could see the skeptical look from the corner of her eye.
"Isn't that basically just forgiving him anyways?"
"No. Anger just doesn't cloud my judgement anymore. I know his guilt is true, and he has no desire to hurt anyone anymore." Hild stirred the pot idly, sighing. Even still, the thought of him curdled in her throat like milk. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't think I'll ever actually forgive him."
She avoided looking back at her, not wanting to see how her face had surely fallen. As much as she owed it to Gudrid, her teacher, and her father, she just couldn't bring herself to that final step.
To say she was over what he'd done.
Her reply was long coming, watching as the last scraps of vegetables were added in for the night.
"Are you gonna be okay?"
Hild paused, the skins falling from her palms as she leaned over the pot.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I've seen you, you know." She said, her voice laden with concern. "You'll smile, and then it's like you force yourself to get angry again. You're not letting yourself be happy."
"I know, I haven't," She sat back, staring into the broth before her. It was finished, "but I can enjoy it now."
Still hesitant, Gudrid stood up and collected bowls and spoons for the two of them.
"You sure?" She asked, pouring Hild a portion.
"I'll be fine from now on. I promise."
And again, Gudrid relaxed. Sitting to eat with her, it was as though nothing has ever been wrong at all.
"Then I'm glad. Neither of you have to worry about it anymore." She raised her bowl in toast. 'It's good to look to the future."
In the morning, Hild woke with the winter sunrise shining through the window.
Burning her dark hair umber, shining pink and gold on her skin. She always woke up second. Calloused hands gently pressed to the side of her face.
With a heavy arm slung over her chest, Hild couldn't move without waking her. No matter how early she rose, she'd been late out of bed for the last two years.
She took a deep breath.
The smell of a body. Sweat, the faint smell of pine needles and sea salt, tinges of their dinner left on her breath. The fire, their bed, the blankets.
The world was vividly alive, and Hild could finally share in it fully.
It was good to look to the future.