The girl who cried wolf

"Where is the wolf?" A powerful voice demanded, cutting through the commotion. Four men and several boys stood at his back, their eyes fixed on her. 

"Stop, Balder!" Sigrid cried, pulling the dog away. 

Ragnar's face was red with fury. "Kill the beast!" He shouted. 

"No!" She flung herself around Balder’s thick neck. "He is a tame dog!" 

"He is a monster!" Ragnar spat, thrusting his arm forward. Blood dripped from the torn skin, staining the ground beneath him. "Kill him!"

"Then you’ll have to kill me as well!" Her voice trembling but unwavering. 

A hand gripped Ragnar’s shoulder and pulled him back. The man who had spoken earlier stepped forward, his towering form casting a shadow over her. "Enough," he said, his voice calm but heavy with authority. 

She tried to shield Balder's large form behind her.

"It is I," she answered hesitantly.

"And why did he attack my son?" His eyes bored into hers, sharp and unyielding. 

"He didn’t attack," she shot back, her voice trembling but fierce. "He defended me." 

"Defended you from what?" The words were cold, deliberate. 

Sigrid hesitated, her gaze flickering to Ragnar before meeting the man’s piercing eyes. "Your son tried to—" Her voice faltered under his intense scrutiny, the words catching in her throat. 

"Tried to what?" His tone was ice. 

"Force a kiss on me," she said, her voice low but defiant. "I told him no." 

A flicker of something—anger, perhaps—passed across the man’s face. He turned to Ragnar. "Apologize." 

"I will not!" Ragnar growled, his fists clenched. 

The father roared, silencing everyone. And the two girls jumped.

"I..." Ragnar stepped forward abruptly and grabbed her hand. His apology was loud and exaggerated. "I am sorry." 

Then, leaning closer, his voice dropped to a whisper, his smirk twisting cruelly. "For not kissing you." 

Sigrid ripped her hand away as if burned, her face flushing with anger and humiliation. "It is alright," she said stiffly, forcing the words out. Her gaze dropped, hiding the storm behind her eyes. 

Without another word, she seized Thora’s arm and turned sharply, willing herself to walk away before the trembling in her hands betrayed her fury. 

The man stepped forward, his towering presence halting them in their tracks. "Forgive us, young ladies," he said, his tone unexpectedly measured. "What are your names?"

"This is Thora and I'm Sigrid," she replied firmly, gripping Thora's arm. Her voice was steady, but her eyes darted nervously around. "We must leave. Now."

"Sigrid?" He repeated in a calm yet unsettling way.

"Yes, Gudbrandsdatter," she said, more quietly now.

"Sigrid Gudbrandsdatter?" He said, like the name tasting familiar on his tongue.

"Come back!" The words was spoken with such weight, and made both girls freeze. It was not a question, not a curiosity-it was an order, sharp and final. His tone left no room for disobedience.

"Oh no," Thora sobbed, her tears spilling freely. The weight of what was happening seemed too great to bear.

"Yes, my good lord," her voice was measured, careful. She curtsied deeply, her tone tinged with the politeness of someone well-practiced in navigating peril. "I beg you, please-"

But the man interrupted her, "I am sorry, girl. No kin of Gudbrand may enter this land. And for this trespass, I cannot let you leave unpunished."

Sigrid stiffened, her grip on Thora tightening. The air between them grew heavy.
The crystal-blue eyes of his son glowed.

"It is Gudbrand's daughter!" He shouted to his brothers, who came back, curious.

The man, standing tall and unwavering, drew a deep breath. "I am sorry. But I must make an example of you now. If I do not," he continued, his gaze cutting into hers, "then everyone will come here and destroy what we have built."

"No, I promise!" Sigrid cried, her voice breaking under the weight of desperation.

"Kill the dog," Ragnar barked, his voice sharp and unyielding as he turned back toward the group.

"No!" She lunged forward, her arms locking protectively around Balder's thick neck. The dog whimpered, pressing closer to her as though sensing her fear.

"Kill the dog," the father suddenly declared. "Fetch the axe, Ragnar," who was already far up the hillside.

But Sigrid suddenly pushed herself upright, her eyes blazing with a desperate resolve. "I claim the right to enforce his punishment!" She cried.

Balder panted uneasily.
Sigrid held out her arm, her voice steady now despite the tears streaming down her face. "Take my arm instead! Leave him be!"

His eyes, bored into her as though searching for any hint of hesitation.
"So, you mean to live with one arm, girl?"

"Yes," she stammered, "yes!"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying her like one might an unfamiliar creature. "To live with one arm," he said, each word deliberate, "is a terrible burden."

"I know," Sigrid replied, her voice steadier now despite the trembling in her body. "And that is why I ask you to accept this as a punishment instead of killing my dog. The fault is mine, and I will bear it."

"Very well," he mumbled.

Sigrid's heart raced as she watched Ragnar climb the hillside. When he returned, the axe gleaming in his hands, her resolve hardened.

"Do you regret it?" The man asked, his voice low but steady, his eyes fixed on hers. "It is not too late..."

"No!" She burst out, the word escaping her lips before she could think. Her hands shook as she reached for her sleeve, rolling it up to bare her arm.

Ragnar stood a few paces away, his chest heaving with labored breaths, sweat gleaming on his brow. His confusion was plain as he stared at them, his lips parting as though to speak, but no words came.

"She will bear the punishment with her hand," the man declared, his gaze fixed elsewhere, dismissing his son entirely. His tone was final, unyielding, like a verdict etched in stone.

"If you pull away," he said, his tone grave, "the dog dies."  

Ragnar's fierce gaze told her he had no faith she would manage to keep her hand in place.

Sigrid bit down on a stick he handed her, her arms trembling as she stretched one out.  

"Do it quickly," she said, meeting the man's eyes with a defiance that surprised even herself.

Balder whimpered at her feet, his large amber eyes filled with confusion and fear.

The man nodded, rising slowly, as if the weight of the moment pressed down even on him. He reached for the axe Ragnar had carried back, the blade gleaming cruelly in the dim light.

Sigrid closed her eyes and bit down hard on the stick, bracing herself.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

"Yes." She bit down hard on the stick.

What would she tell her father when she returned home without her arm? He would likely lock her away for the rest of her life.

Tears pressed at her eyes.

"One, two... three!" He shouted, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Sigrid squeezed her eyes shut.
Hard.

Her breaths came quick and shallow, her fingers clawing at the earth beneath her.

She gripped it tightly, as though it could anchor her against the pain she was certain was coming.

She heard the whistle of the swing, the blade slicing through the air with deadly purpose.

The valley seemed to rumble, the sound vibrating deep in her chest.

And then...

nothing.

The pain did not come.

Her breathing slowed as confusion crept in. Slowly, cautiously, she opened her eyes.

His gaze flickered over her, as though reading her like a book of secrets.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he lowered the axe.

She blinked, disoriented, and looked down. Her arm was still intact, the skin unbroken.

Her breath hitched as she stared at it, then at the man, then back at her arm. Her mind struggled to understand.

"You..." she stammered, still gripping the earth. "You didn't..."

She opened her eyes slowly. Her arm was intact.  

The man lowered the axe. "You are brave," he said quietly. "And foolish."  

Sigrid blinked, struggling to understand. "You... you didn’t..."  

"No." His voice softened. "But your courage has spared you. And your dog."  

Balder whined, pressing against her.  

"You may go," the man said, stepping back."  

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if she couldn’t quite believe it was truly happening.

"Go now," he said, his tone firm once more. "Before I change my mind."  

Sigrid grabbed Thora’s hand, and they ran without looking back, Balder following close behind.

As they reached the edge of the forest, Sigrid froze, startled by the sound of heavy footsteps pounding against the earth. 

"Sigrid!" a voice called out. 

She turned sharply. It was Ragnar, keeping a cautious distance from them—and Balder. 

"What do you want now?" She shouted, her anger barely contained. But as she noticed his father’s piercing gaze in the distance, she steadied herself, her tone cooling. 

"Well, well," Ragnar began with a mocking smirk. "Who knew you had that in you?" 

"I’m used to taking punishment," she replied, her voice steady, though her eyes burned with defiance. 

Ragnar turned as if to leave but then stopped abruptly, glancing back at her with a grin that sent a shiver down her spine. "Just you wait. You’ll be the one begging me for a kiss." His laughter echoed as he strode away. 

Their walk back was wordless, the tension between them heavy and unspoken. 
The yard was eerily silent, the kind of silence that pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

When they finally reached the farm, Sigrid stopped abruptly, turning to face Thora, who lingered behind with hesitant, shuffling steps. 

"You must promise me," Sigrid said, her voice low. "Promise you won’t tell anyone." 

Thora’s lips trembled, her wide eyes glistening with unshed tears, but she nodded. "I promise," she whispered, though her voice wavered. 

Sigrid exhaled shakily, as if releasing a weight she had been carrying. "If my father knew," she said, her voice cracking, "he’d lock me in the cellar and never let me see daylight again." 

Thora reached out as if to comfort her but thought better of it, her hand falling limply at her side. 

Sigrid motioned for Thora to follow. They crept silently to the barn, each creak of the wood beneath their feet sounding impossibly loud. 

Inside, the soft snoring of her brother reached her ears, and she felt a flicker of relief. For now, they were safe. 

Sigrid knelt beside Balder, her trembling hands finding his thick fur. She buried her face against him, clutching him tightly.

Her heart still raced with the fear of what had almost happened—and the knowledge of what might yet come. 

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