The black beast

Sigrid kept to her father's land for the rest of the year; she didn't dare venture beyond the farm again. Not after what had happened.

When spring returned and the snow began to melt, the household stirred with familiar purpose. Preparations for the annual market were underway-an age-old tradition reserved for Gudbrand and his sons.

But this year, Sigrid was determined that it would be her turn.
She had worked alongside Åsmund in the barn through fall and winter, driven by a single dream: to use her hard-earned money to buy a horse of her own.

And her mother, to her surprise, was leaving no room for argument from either her father or her brothers when they tried to come up with reasons she shouldn't go.

The market was bustling with people, and baked goods and perfumes filled the air with sweet scents.

Sigrid and Thora hurried to set up the stalls, and when they were done, Thora's mother gave them five pennies each.

Thora quickly spotted someone she knew and ran toward them. Several girls were sitting together at the edge of the meadow.

Sigrid clearly saw her brothers' stalls and the horses from that spot, where she planned to run off when the stall got busy.

"Look at that hair," said one of the older girls, who wore a large and colorful flower crown in her dark and straight mane, as she smiled.

Sigrid's curly hair hung untamed and unruly over her shoulders.

"Shall I fix it for you?" Sigrid had no opportunity to answer; the girl began working on her hair before she could speak.

It went quick and gentle, and Sigrid suddenly stood with a beautiful braid, adorned with sprigs of flowers.

The other girls admired her work when she was done and smiled and laughed while continuing to braid their crowns while Sigrid tried to keep her focus on the horses.

Sigrid froze when the girl named Gerd suddenly said, "Oh, look, here comes Ragnar!"

"I've heard he has an older cousin who's even more handsome," said the eldest, named Gudrun.

Gerd tilted her head. "Is that true?"

"Yes, I think he works as a knight for the king." Gudrun whispered.

Sigrid stepped back, shrinking into the group, hoping to blend into the shadows as Ragnar strode past.

But he stopped, his piercing gaze sweeping over the crowd until it landed on her. "Hiding from me, Sigrid Gudbrandsdatter?"

Her heart pounded, but she refused to let him see her falter. Deliberately, she stepped forward.

"Perhaps I was worried you might attempt another kiss."

He smirked as if he owned the place. "Your hair looks different. And you've grown since the last time I saw you."

Her skin prickled, the feeling creeping up her spine. "Was there something you wanted?"

She cast a wary glance toward the stalls, anxiety tugging at her. If her father caught wind of her disobedience, there would be hell to pay.

"Just watch yourself, Sigrid Gudbrandsdatter. I see no sign of your wolf."

He took a step forward so that his light hair glinted in the sun.

"No, but I've brought my brothers and my father," she said, pointing to the stall.

"They don't scare me," Ragnar almost whispered and took another step forward.

A voice suddenly called for Ragnar from the crowd.

"Lucky for you," he smirked. "Duty calls. Ladies," he bowed before leaving.

The girls behind her hadn't said a word the whole time but suddenly started to giggle and whisper among themselves as soon as he had vanished.

"Do you know Ragnar Erikson?"

"No," Sigrid said quickly.

"But he knows you," said the eldest.

"My father and his are foes. He's only aiming to irritate me."

A powerful arm startled her, yanking her from behind.

It was Sigurd, her eldest brother. As if she were a child, he hauled her across the field.

"Why were you talking to Ragnar Erikson?" Sigurd said with a flushed face.

"What's it to you?"

"I need to know!" He said with a loud voice, drawing attention. "Do you know who he is?"

"How would I know who he is? I never get to go anywhere, and you never tell me anything."

Thorstein, two years younger than Sigurd, came running up as well. "What's going on here?"

"Sigurd is acting strange, as usual," she said.

Sigurd hissed and held her tightly by the arms. "And what is that in your hair? You look foolish!"

"All the girls have done it, and it's you who are foolish!"

"Sigurd, calm down. The stalls are getting busy now. Come on." Thorstein dragged their brother away and Sigrid into the field.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she clenched her hands into fists.

"Is everything well?" It was Thora's voice behind her.

"Y-yes, I'm coming," she hurried to wipe away her tears.

She rose after a short while.

But she walked straight past the girls and strode purposefully toward the line of horses.

When she reached them, she paused, planting her hands firmly on her hips. She let her gaze travel over every single one, weighing their every strength and flaw.

She pointed, "That's the one," highlighting the largest, most magnificent black stallion.

Someone announced, "That's not for sale."

Sigrid glanced back; a small, weathered man peeked from behind the horses. His face showed age; his eyes were sharp but cautious.

"Why not?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Because it's wild," he said, stepping closer, his tone grave.

"Then why is it here?"

"Because the owner wishes to give it away to someone who can ride it."

"Give it away?" She echoed, her brows lifting in surprise. "Then let me try!"

"Absolutely not," he shuddered.

"Please!" She said, with determination lighting her eyes.

"You wouldn't believe how many have tried today," he said with a grim shake of his head. "Everyone who did was thrown, and some were injured badly."

"But I am not afraid of being thrown!"

The old man let out a dry chuckle, though his expression remained serious. "You won't manage it."

"Let her try," a deep voice said from behind them.

Sigrid turned to see Erik Gustavson stepping into view, his dark, wavy hair brushing just past his shoulders.

The old man stiffened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Look at her," he said, gesturing to Sigrid. "That poor beast will kill her."

Erik Gustavson patted him on the shoulder. "She's tougher than she looks."

"Is it your horse?" She asked.

"Not mine, but someone I know."

"'I suppose it's fine... as long as it's just someone you know.'"

"Do you require help to get on?"

"I think I can manage," she said, signaling for them to move aside.

She began by circling the horse, her steps slow and her voice low as she hummed a soothing tune. Her gaze never left the creature.

When she reached its head, she extended her hand, her palm facing upward. She met the horse's wary eyes and held the gaze as she touched its nose.

Her hand moved in calm, firm strokes, gliding upward to the space between its eyes.

The horse shifted, causing it to jiggle. She continued her hand up its mane and down its back, reaching for the saddle, which she loosened.

Her hand traveled upward along its mane, down the length of its powerful neck, and then along its back.

She used her hand firmly along its back, reaching its hindquarters, where she continued her touch.

She whispered, "Má ek ríða þér? Ek lofa at vera varr."

The horse bowed its front legs, allowing her to mount with ease. The moment her weight settled, the horse reared up, pawing the air with its forelegs.

Sigrid clung to its mane. Her heart raced, but she leaned forward, pressing herself into the rhythm of the horse's movement. She whispered again, "Varr... varr."

Leading the large black stallion out into the crowd, which to her surprise had gathered to watch, she guided it around the market and back.

"Is it mine now?" Sigrid asked, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and pride.

"Yes," Erik said with a nod, his eyes gleaming.

"Thank you, my lord," she said, hearing the crowd's applause of admiration as she rode towards her father and brothers, who had now spotted her.

Her father's face turned ashen when he saw her riding the wild steed. He ran towards her. "My dear Sigrid, dismount at once!"

"Look, Father, I have a horse; it's mine."

"No," her father said in a harsh tone. "It's dangerous."

"The horse is not dangerous but requires more care than others."

"That beast shall not come home with us, Sigrid!" Gudbrand's voice trembled with anger. "Get off at once, Sigrid!" He said, his face reddening.

"Father! You're frightening him!" Sigrid said as the horse reared up on its hind legs, startled by her father's fury.

"I will have that horse's head, Sigrid, if you do not dismount now! I swear it!" Gudbrand's voice was low and threatening, his hands clenched into fists.

"Had it been my brothers, you would have clapped in joy and delight! I hate you!" She said and kicked the horse, sending it into a gallop.

As she glanced back, she saw that Sigurd had mounted his horse, his dark eyes burning with anger as he fixed his gaze on her.

But Sigrid had no intention of stopping.

She set her jaw, her gaze unwavering as she urged her horse forward. She was determined to press on.

The horse beneath her seemed to sense her resolve, its powerful legs carrying them forward. Nothing would sway her. Not this time.

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