Ingrid watched the white caps of the crashing waves far below. The boar had been butchered and she made another crude bag to carry the parts down to the sea.

A fire crackled and smoked in front of the small cave. The sea breeze would push the smoke into the tight space. Which would help to cure the slabs of meat hanging.

It was so easy to hammer some wooden pegs into these cliffs. Even more so with the Megin running through her body. Though the green and white soapstone caused her mind to slip in holding back the memories.

Taking a deep breath she looked down at the stone. It had a series of runes and symbols on it, the culmination of her thoughts on cultivation. She took another deep breath before seeking the cool darkness.

---

Olaf punched the tree again, his knuckles bleeding down it's trunk. His rage was something to behold, but it was the cold look in his eyes that sent shivers down Ingrid's spine.

She had been too curious about where her father went late into the night. Fearing that he was going to see someone so soon after her mother had passed. Instead she found him performing this nightly ritual.

He would remain here unless he heard something within the forest, and then he would rush off. His eyes blazing like those of a Beast. Then, his fists stopped in their position, blood dripping.

Suddenly, the anger drained from him, and he turned towards her hiding spot. The anger had been replaced by something else, but it was too foreign for her to understand what it was.

"Come her, girl." He sounded like he had been swallowing nails again, like when mother had died. Ingrid carefully came out into the open. The sounds of the forest seemed muted in the presence of her father.

"I am sorry." Somehow he was holding her, his body shaking. Ingrid didn't understand how he had moved so fast, and less why he was apologizing. Yet, it caused her to cry as it pulled on something inside of her.

As they were there, the feelings inside of her warred between confusion and sorrow. Her father had never cried more than a single tear. Even when mother died.

Anger flared in her, but it became crushed by the sorrow still pouring out of her. Clinging to his hunched back, she tried to punch it. Hoping, it would help to stop the tears.

His back was like the tree he had been punching, but at least soft enough not to split her hands.

"There are many things a Warrior can fight, but we cannot heal or bring back the spirits of the dead." His voice still sounded broken, but it took on the tone of his lectures, "While Megin gives us great strength and the power to recover ourselves. It pierces our hearts to give us this power." Ingrid just shook her head, why did he lecture now?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"One day you will understand this, when you too have a Heart."

---

Her eyes opened while taking another deep breath. The Heart calming another notch, but the flames within still burn. Unlike her Father's words it was that flame that burned her heart.

Perhaps it was the difference between her awakening and his. She had taken it with vengeance in heart and mind. While he had walked the normal path of a Warrior, to protect others from the Beasts.

With each beat of her heart she could feel the Megin trying to push her. Like it wanted blood and pain from the world, and she was the arm of it's flame. She slapped herself, hard, on the cheek.

The flames flared for a brief moment, and she could feel the anger come back ten fold before it settled. Making another mark on the stone with the burned stick. She considered something important about her path.

It was clear that Megin was making her far more emotional than she wanted to be. It was also clear that staying around her broken town wouldn't help her grow, or plan her vengeance on the Bloodaxe Clan.

She would have to travel to Merin, the nearest town to the south-east. They had lived there in the previous migration, but she didn't have an specific memories of the place.

Each time they moved the next town or village would cover up most of the memories from the last. Unless, something significant happened that would stay with her. Though, few could compare to here.

Looking upwards, she imagined she could see through the layers of stone and loam. The skeleton of houses and paths that seemed to grow back to the way they used to be. The blood-soaked ground returning to the people who made them.

Tears stung her eyes as she forced herself to remember how it was. To remember the people who she shared so many important memories. Even the idiot, his smile returning to the world for a moment.

She was no Skuld to sing the tales of loss, but she hummed an old lullaby from a distant memory. The tune seemed right to hold their memories.

Wyrd could give visions of a life, as you drew it from something. Would she get the memories those men had taken if she killed them? Her training told her, firmly, no, but something inside her wished it wasn't true.

Albert might not have been more, but she wanted to see him again. The memory of walking the stone cliffs the most prominent in her mind. It was an important moment she would never forget, or forgive.

Yet, it was her memory with him, and they had taken it when they killed him. The flame began to burn brighter, and she took a deep breath.

She had always prided herself on the calm that her training had given. Now she hated how much it slipped from her grasp, and how much she liked being so unrestrained. At least she understood why her father had pushed her to become so calm and focused.

Another few marks on the stone before she look out at the crashing waves once again. Then, tilted her head to smell the smoke trickling from the mouth of the narrow cave. The meat was almost done.

When it was finished, she would cover them in more salt and pack them into the sacks left here. The town had used these caves to smoke and cure their meats, and luckily the raiders hadn't decided to burn everything here too.

Granted it would have been pretty hard since everything was damp and most was solid stone. Yet, it was what she had expected when she came down here. Perhaps, they were pressed for time, or they just didn't care that much.

Another mark on the ground made up her mind for her. She would head for Merin as soon as she was done here, and had scattered some salt on the ruins of her home.

She just hoped that the Bloodaxe Clan hadn't cleared everyone from this island, or, at least, there were others that followed her path.