FREYA
A couple of days passed, and Freya was astounded at how well she began to fit into the daily life at the Vargar encampment. Everyone was an equal in everything they did. They wanted to hear about her hunting skills and see her humble bow and arrow set. She was glad she had managed to hang onto it. They seemed to think she was their equal.
And their initial stares went away as she got to know people. The hundreds of people in the camp were getting more familiar as she worked alongside them.
Her affinity for sewing was greatly appreciated, and by the end of her second day, Freya was helping to fix ripped articles of clothing or leather armor. Their clothing was soft, and she found herself envious of how freely they moved in it. That made her think of all the things Kestrel had made for her. The silken dresses were of amazing quality, but they werenât right for her here.
She showed them to an older she-wolf that she spent time sewing with.
âYouâll stand out on a hunt in those clothes,â her new friend said. âThe prey will see you coming a mile away.â
Freyaâs cheeks had flamed in embarrassment, but she knew it was true.
At least she was welcome as a hunter here. When she hunted at home in her old, plain clothes, it had never occurred to her that prey would be affected by bright colors. Of course, Kestrel would not have thought of that, either.
It wasnât like the higher up noble Adaryn were hunting for their meals. Freya doubted the councilmen her father had grown so close with even knew how to shoot an arrow. They left that work to the soldiers and Valkyrie.
She tried not to think of her family. Her father had willingly given her away as soon as heâd been welcomed into the elite of Adaryn society. Her mother was withering away, and Freya didnât know how much longer she would last. And Raga was still gone.
Her father hadnât even been a part of the group that had brought her here. He hadnât been there to tell her goodbye. She didnât know if he was glad to see her gone, or if it hurt him too much to see his last daughter given away. Going into the future, it didnât matter. None of it mattered anymore. She had a new people and new way of life to get ready for.
The new peace between their people depended on things going well between her and her new mate.
And he was avoiding her like a contagious disease.
Vistra told her that Cain was out hunting with other warriors during the day, but it seemed more like evasion. Anytime they got anywhere near each other in the camp, Freya noticed him run for the hills.
~Was it something she said? She hadnât said anything yet. ~
Cain might as well have been shunning her. Yet, there were moments she caught him staring. As if he was studying her, perhaps.
Whenever she caught sight of him, her childhood fear of the Vargar would come creeping back up to the forefront of her mind. She felt bad about being afraid of him, but he was awfully intimidating. His sharp features and dark wine-red eyes reminded her of the beast from her dreams.
But she hadnât been having those nightmares in a while.
The Vargar were not the dangerous curs she had been brought up to believe. Every day that passed with them she felt more at home. Everyone walked here. She didnât need to look up to the sky enviously. There was nothing keeping her apart from them.
Well, she didnât have the ability to shift into a massive wolf-beast. So there was that. But they never even mentioned it. And when she was with them, nobody stared or made her feel different. She felt more like she belonged than she had with her own kind.
By the end of the second day, Freya had given away her fancy silk materials to the she-wolves who showed interest. The bright fabrics got dirty easily, and she saw no purpose in wearing them herself. The women were happy to have them, and they shared their extra clothing with her as well. It didnât take long for her to take in the new clothes.
She liked her new wardrobe. The Vargar clothing didnât have the traditional Adaryn open-back style. She found it even easier to fit in with her feathers hidden.
***
Vistra spent time every single day in the morning and night with Freya. They broke their fast in the morning and had dinner together. All the while Vistra told Freya about the Vargar culture, and shared stories of her childhood and how she had been groomed to take her leadership from her father.
âIâve trained Cain since he was able to crawl. If heâs to take leadership from me one day and provide for his future family, then he must be strong. Iâm proud to say heâs one of the strongest in the pack.â Vistra went on proudly about her son while digging into a plate of roast rabbit.
Mention of a future family made Freya inhale sharply. ~How had she not thought of that?~
âAfter an offering is accepted, we normally start trying to grow our new family immediately.â Vistra smiled. âMost couples have pups shortly after the night their courtship comes to end. I suppose you had a rather short courtship, having just met him the same day you agreed to accept him.â
~Pups?~
Her mind had been willfully ignorant. Of course she would be expected to bear children. She could feel Cainâs presence in the camp that night. Was he thinking about this, too?
Cain was as far away as he could be from his mother and Freya, yet she knew he was watching her. Freya did her best to avoid his heady gaze and enjoy Vistraâs company. They werenât likely to have any family, the way he glared through her. Perhaps he agreed with his uncle that she was a discarded runt.
Ivar had looked at her so angrily as she had entered this camp. Sheâd worried they would all hate her the way he seemed to. And yet none of the others did. Sheâd gotten along with everyone. After theyâd had their fill of admiring her feathers, which had been embarrassing, they all relaxed. They didnât stare at her like her own people. They just accepted her.
She fit right in on the forest floor. Vistra was the warmest of them all. The wolf-mother had already taken to calling Freya her daughter. It made her sad to think of her own mother, but she tried not to. It was more than she could have ever expected from them.
She could be happy here. Except for one thing.
Cain stood from his far away seat at one of the opposite tables and stalked off into the forest.
âMay I ask something, freely?â Freya hesitantly asked Vistra between gulps of mead for courage.
âOf course, daughter, donât fear and hold your tongue from me. Your wit has proven sharp in these few days together and Iâd hate to see you hold back.â Vistraâs warm smile turned inquisitively to Freya.
âI fear Cain doesnât like me. I know it meant a lot that he even gave me an offering and heâs not breathed a word against me. Not that I know of.â Freya went on in a rush. âBut how are we supposed to build a future when he doesnât speak to me? All he does is glare.â
And it hurt her a little, the way he seemed so angry at her. Freya had become conscious of her own thoughts of Cain. She knew he was the most attractive man sheâd ever laid eyes on.
Aurik had disappeared from her thoughts. Sheâd never liked him like that, anyway. But her body reacted to Cainâs presence. She wanted to be close to him. This feeling was new, and so strong it was almost disturbing. She thought every day about what it would be like to start a family with him.
âYou think thatâs glaring?â The wolf-mother laughed with her head thrown back. âHeâs looking at you.â
Freya could only manage a chuckle as she tried to understand what Vistra meant. She was sure he didnât want anything to do with her.
âHeâs most definitely glaring at me. Your son hates me. Iâm sure of it!â
âAnd rain falls up, little bird,â Vistra only continued to laugh. She nearly splashed her mead all over the table.
Freya frowned. If he wasnât glaring at her, what was happening? Why didnât he come talk to her?
As the sun went down, Freya retired to the tent. She washed up with hot water, did her best to braid her hair like her sister used to, and then dressed in the oversized white tunic she had been given. It was more freeing and far more comfortable to sleep in than anything sheâd had before.
Vistra had been right that it was getting colder. A chill was beginning to creep in each night. The trees were nearly bare of leaves.
It would be winter soon. Freya had taught her new friends to find the wild winter berries growing at the edges of the camp. Apparently, they didnât grow in the mountains. The Vargar had been enjoying them with each breakfast when Freya shared them.
There was a calm smile on her face while she crawled into the bed and piled up under every fur blanket available. The tent was cozy, and Freya was glad to have her own space to fall asleep in. It was thoughtful of them to give her space to adjust.
But how long would she have to wait to talk to him?