Soteria

[Thalia]

Tristan’s ferocity was a palpable energy writhing beneath his skin, and Nimeda was as curious for the snap of his jaws as she was for the paradoxical gentleness that also seemed to be in his nature. Not that she blamed him for the savagery invoked. Her wide-eyed gaze watched much as she had once watched the vicious curl of Thorn Paw’s snarl meant to chase her from the cottage, unperturbed by the danger now as then. When the wolf had lunged at her, she had fled, and she wondered what she might do if Tristan did the same. But instead he only took her offered hand. For a moment, thinking of his balled fists and clenched jaw, her skin prickled with the memory of how hard the grimnir had crushed her wrist, and she puzzled at the faith of her trust in others. But he did not hurt her.

The world swirled like a hand smeared through wet paint. They dropped straight into the heart of the fjord, not unknowingly; and not entirely her own doing either, though she was glad for it. For a moment she plunged down deeper, relishing the cold jets against her skin. Skirts rippled as they pulled flush against her legs, and her hair wreathed wild when she twisted and pushed forward through a cloud of bubbles. The amusement was purely self-indulgent, a cleanse into cold and dark and silence. For memories roused, old and ancient and sparkly new. She let them wash away, and felt better for the freedom as she darted sleek through the current.

Nimeda did not surface until the shore, when a gasp brought icy air into her lungs. A smile flickered for the sensation as she pulled herself sodden out of the water’s embrace. The troll stone never spoke to her, and she did not expect to be privy to any conversation to follow. She’d sat cross-legged in front of it often enough in the past, reciting her stories to abject silence before she’d ever known anyone else called the cottage home. Even then she’d understood what it was, if not who, and it had not dissuaded the doggedness of her company. Trolls were by nature solitary. Likely Tristan’s uncle had not relished her persistence any more than the wolf when he had discovered her visits to this place. If Thorn Paw was here also, she imagined to find even less welcome. 

It was not the only reason Nim did not race ahead this time, but while neither hesitant, she did turn to wait for Tristan. Her feet crested a perch atop a slippery rock, arms aloft in careless balance as she observed the churn of his emotions now. She’d sliced her soles running last time, but if she was mindful of the sharpness it did not dampen her whimsy. Neither was she wary of her company. She slipped down, nimble despite seeming precariousness. Her eyes were bright with question she did not give voice to. If he did not seem inclined to lead the way, she would.