*Thor*
She drapes a blanket over my shoulders before handing me the cup of tea with whisky. Surely it is only my imagination that causes me to feel revitalized by the brew. Or perhaps it is the woman sitting nearby working so hard to mend my clothing.
She has finished with my trousers and is now busily weaving needle and thread through the fabric of my shirt. As the white linen isn’t stained with my blood, she has obviously washed it at some point. I wonder what else she might have done of which I am unaware.
“I'm sorry I don't have any boots for you to wear”. She says quietly. “I thought mine might do but I fear your feet are much larger”.
“A curse that affects the men in my family”. I can’t be certain but she appears to be blushing.
Interesting.
“I thought about asking one of my b
