Laurel
When the storm died, we ventured from our hiding hole. In the ravine, there was little dry ground. Haakon lay in a little crevice in the rocks, cramped and barely able to fit half his body. One calf bled where a rock had struck it. His breath came in short, pained gasps.
Ulf dropped to his knees, tearing strips from his own clothes to make a bandage. “I should not have moved you so soon.”
“It’s all right, brother.”
“No, my fault. I built the fire too large.”
“Showing off,” Haakon gasped, and I knelt close to shush him. I held his hand tight while Ulf went to retrieve his supplies. Sleep quickly took the wounded warrior, leaving me alone with his scarred companion.
I cursed myself for flinching at his scars. The left side of his face was so endearing, I forgot the whole of the
