Chapter Fourteen
The pair of ravens blink back at me through the little gap, eyeing me close. These birds are Odin’s familiars, not Freyja’s, which confuses me. Huginn and Munnin are their names, so our tales say. They roam Midgard to bring Odin information. They sit on his shoulders and whisper into his ears. Then one sharp black beak reaches in as if intent on plucking out my eye. I lash out with my hand by instinct.
“Away, you feathery f**k!” I yell.
The birds flee in a carking clatter that echoes loud through the morning stillness. I emerge aching and stinking from the confines of the horse’s belly into snow-bright daylight. At least my body feels warm. The reaper-storm has passed, off to deal its deadly spite further north. There is a patch where Aleks laid down, but no Aleks, so p
