Ingrid got up to clean up the space around the passed out Healer. It would be best to have a place to lit a fire if needed tonight. Otherwise, a cleaner spot to sleep would be best.
It was unlikely the Healer would be able to climb into a tree, and be comfortable for a whole night of sleep. Likely she would fall out being unused to sleeping in such conditions.
Ingrid's critical eye passed over the woman. She liked to think herself a good judge of character, mostly by looking for callouses and scars. Which the Healer had none just bruises.
Though that was likely because she WAS a Healer, and certainly was a Shaman. They didn't give their mark to every Healer, or she would have heard about it long before now.
Why the woman hadn't used Seidr to recover was still a bit odd, but Ingrid didn't see much point in trying to understand. Perhaps it needed to recover after so much time of neglect.
Taking a deep breath, she sank into a light meditation while she moved the wood and debris she could. Some of it was important to keep the rest of the structure together. Like the large, burnt beams that crossed in the center.
---
Olaf moved slowly through the motions of the dance. His bared chest tight from the strain of pushing the Megin around and the breathing technique. Each movement was made with careful slowness.
Ingrid watched him, sitting on a stump, and marveled at the waving air around her father. Each Warrior had a Technique they followed to progress higher and gather more Megin.
Some had patterns like this they used to speed the conversion of Wyrd to Megin. Though her father only used it for resistance training. Megin, supposedly, pushed against you the more you cycled it within your blood.
The pressure would create an aura of heat and rippling air. Which some Warriors used to show off their strength. Even if it only weakened them the longer they used it.
You might not use the Megin within, but the body became stressed from the energy moving through it. Only the ranks of Drang, Thagn, and Karl provided resistance to this.
"It is said," Olaf, his voice strained, "That the ranks of Warriors and Shaman come from the ancient kingdoms of the Veil. With only the Kings above the Karl in status, but not true power."
A sudden punch sent a ripple of air forward, then Olaf began to increase his speed while reducing the speed of his Megin's rotation within his body. To Ingrid, this seemed like her father flickered with tiny flames.
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"Each rank is the progress of the Heart in spreading and uniting with your body." Adding some small jumps and rolls to the complex movements, "A Thrall only has the Heart and it's extending veins. Drang is when the veins have covered your own. Thagn is when they begin to act like the veins and arteries within you. Karl is the full union of Megin to your flesh, and can use your own living blood."
Olaf crouched before leaping towards a tree, his body twisting in a spiral. He used the momentum of his body and axe to bring a clean sweep across the base of his target. The large spruce tree's trunk exploded in splinters as the axe cut a third of the way through.
Flowing with the movement, he released the handle to rotate in the opposite way, his left foot pushing off the handle. To bring a second axe into the other side of the tree near the same level as the first.
The tree couldn't handle the impact given the explosive chop on the opposite side, and began to creak dangerously. Slowly, toppling to crash against the grass and rocks of the clearing. Olaf rose from his crouch.
"Your body knows when you approach that threshold. It will burn from the excessive energy, and you will feel invincible for a moment. Don't expect that you actually are daughter." His body steaming from his actions.
---
Ingrid could feel the pulse of Megin within her, and the steady stream the Cap was providing her had started to trickle again. She would need to truly Hunt if she could tonight. The blood of an animal would do to keep her promise, but she craved that stream of Wyrd.
It had pushed her to the threshold her father had spoken of. The Heart had pulsing lines of runes stretching to the ends of every vein in her body. Lighting it up in the crimson-gold lights of Megin.
Though she thought she could feel something in the air around her as well. A cooling presence that tempered the push of the Megin to slaughter and rage. There was nothing obvious to her inner or outer sight.
But, it was something that just on the edge of her perception, and she had a feeling it was related to her using Seidr that time. It had her divided. On one side it would give her something no Warrior had.
At least she had never heard a story of such a Warrior, and they would certainly have been legendary. With many songs talking about their honor and valor over the forces of the Veil and beyond.
On the other side, it was something she had no experience or knowledge of. The Shaman kept to themselves, and even had their own villages in hidden places. They worked with Warriors when powerful Beasts threatened.
Other than that, they tended to wander sporadically, and made caves or huts near towns. She knew her father had met a few, but his stories about them were few. Mostly, they were about the wonders of fire and lightning they wielded.
Taking another deep breath in the Megin pulsed again, and she felt something stretch deep within. It caused her to stumble and drop the good tinder and wood. The rage inside had entered a new level.
The smell of smoke burned in her nose, as the vision of bloody streams flickered to life. Power flowed throughout her body, not the torrent it would be, but right at the edge of bursting out.
She would hunt them down. Each of them would cry her name when she pulled their dishonorable entrails from their flesh and tossed it to the crows.
Her breathing quickened as she felt the release of their bodies in death.
Smoke and blood would be her herald to those of the Clan.
Her axe would cleave their banners and children until not a soul of the bloodline remained.
Tonight she would Hunt.
Spinning her axe, she headed straight for the forest. A Beast for the Cap would be a feast for her.