Through the Storm

Her eyes burned with the wetness that streaked her cheeks. The night seemed darker for all the orange glow of the torch that her father held. There were others there, her family. Fenris, Thor, for once looking sober rather than drunk or hungover, Sif. Her brother.

Alex’s arm slipped around her waist and she leaned against him, needing what comfort he could offer her. How could she forget what she’d seen? Her mother’s body on the banks of the river, stained with blood. Her skirts half frozen in the winter cold. Sigyn had fought but it was still murder that had been done.

She’d never seen anyone look this tired since well, the tales that had been told of the conflict between their kin and the bloodsucking leeches. The First damned Bloodline that had brought her kind to their knees.

The torch touched the pile of bramble and wood that her mother’s body lay on and she turned away, pulling from Alex’s touch. It went without saying, she needed a moment or two along to cry. Or an hour. Sparks rose bright orange in the night and she swallowed past the lump in her throat before breaking into a run. Her mother’s pyre was burned into her vision in more than one way. In memory and in sight.

She stumbled and picked herself up again before slipping again a few yards further. The night only seemed darker away from the firelight. Try as she might, sleep evaded her. It was her mother’s face that haunted her. Sigyn’s laugh, the older shapeshifter’s auburn hair. Almost as red as the fire that she could see in the distance. Her mother’s scent.

Loki rested her head against the trunk of the tree she was leaning against, half closing her eyes. It hadn’t been a gunshot to take her mother’s life. Some man or creature had taken Sigyn by surprise and killed her. Whoever the murderer was, would have to look over his shoulder. This was one thing she wasn’t going to forget. Or to forgive.

No matter how long it took her.