Bad behavior

She glanced behind her, her horse galloping at full speed. The sight of Sigurd riding after her gave her chills. She easily outdistanced him; her horse was much faster.

She moved her horse deeper into the woods, toward Erik Gustavson's forbidden land. Hiding in the shadows of the towering trees, concealing her like a dark embrace.

With a sigh of relief, she brought the horse to a halt, and the weight of her fear finally lifted.

Warm tears spilled down her cheeks, faster than she could wipe them away. She clenched her fists against the earth. She was angry and scared.

Sigurd's face haunted her-the cold, black eyes seared into her mind. She was certain he was capable of far more than she dared imagine.

She did not know how long she had sat there. At some point, she may have drifted into a restless sleep. But when she opened her eyes, a shadow became visible in the distance.

Through the dimming light, she made him out-Erik Gustavson, Ragnar's father. He stood by the water's edge, his tall frame outlined against the fading twilight sky.

For a moment, she froze, uncertainty gripping her. What if he turned her away?

But she had nowhere else to go.

Swallowing hard, she tightened her grip on the horse's reins and guided it forward.

Erik did not turn at first, his presence almost like a shadow brought to life.

When he did, his expression shifted-from surprise to something softer. Yet in the dim light, his face remained unreadable.

He stared at her, eyebrows arched in disbelief.

"My father plans to kill the horse. I won't let him."

"It's too fine an animal to kill," Erik said with a smile on his face.

"Can he stay here?" Her fingers tightened on the reins.

Erik hesitated. "It's much to ask, considering your father and me."

Her jaw clenched, but she met his gaze. "I know. But he doesn't deserve to die."

After a long pause, a faint curve tugged at his lips. "But since I kind of promised the owner that he was not going to die, he can stay."

She jumped up and down. "Thank you," she repeated eagerly. "So you care for him?"

"You have my word. But you'll have to teach me how to handle him."

"I will," she said. Her tone sharpened as she studied him like he was some unfamiliar creature. "Are you a good man?"

Erik paused, and a faint smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. "I'd like to think so, at least."

"And your son?" She held his gaze. "Is he good?"

A sigh escaped him. "Good question. I'm doing my best to make sure he is. But the boy hasn't had it easy. Just give him some time."

Erik offered a brave smile before he said, "Come, let's find him a place."

The pathway to the stable wound along the hilltop homestead.

Sigrid opened the door to the stable and coaxed him in with quiet gentleness. She picked the most distant stall, its bedding clean. "This will do."

Erik leaned against the doorframe, watching her. "He'll be content here."

She glanced over her shoulder, determination hardening her features. "I'll come back tomorrow, after helping my brother. No one will notice I'm gone."

"I'll be waiting," Erik said.

●●●

She was terrified as she made her way down the mountains.

She thought of her brother and all the times he had punished her, while she had quietly endured it and never told their father.

But this time, it was different.

It was dark when she reached the bottom. She flung the door open with a crash, finding everyone in the living room.

"I told you she would come," her mother said at once.

"Where have you been?" Sigurd thundered across the floor towards her.

"I just needed some time alone!"

"The horse leaves, whether you like it or not!" Sigurd approached her with a look as if to strangle her. But their father came between them.

"Where is the horse, Sigrid?"

Thorstein was right behind Sigurd, who ran out to check the yard and then the stable.

"You scared us," her mother said.

Åsmund remained seated at the table, quietly observing.

Sigurd and Thorstein stormed back in, their faces clouded with frustration. They exchanged a glance before Sigurd spoke: "The horse is nowhere to be found."

The voices in the room all broke out simultaneously, and there was a piercing stillness.

She stood up, her shoulders braced, and her voice cut through the uproar like a knife. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

She departed from the room, leaving everyone else speechless in her wake.

Soon, a gentle knock sounded, and her father's gentle voice said, "May I enter?"

"If you are not here to scold me, I guess you can!" She said, lying with her back to him.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

"I believe you owe me an apology for the hurtful words you yelled," he said calmly.

"And I think you owe me one for making me get rid of my horse."

"You can't run away when you don't get your way," he said firmly.

"But it was unfair!"

"I understand that you're upset and that you're angry with me, but I'm your father."

"Okay, then I better listen, Papa," Sigrid said with a smirk. She paused for a moment and shot him a glare.

"Why are you and Erik Gustavson really enemies?"

She tensed as she saw her father's face darken and immediately regretted her words.

"He is not a good man. How do you know about him?"

"Well, everyone seems to know him."

Her father's voice tightened, and his hand shot out, gripping her arm and forcing her to face him. "Have you met him?"

"No," she lied. "I just overheard people talking about him at the market. And besides, don't you always say there are two sides to every story?"

"Not when it comes to Erik Gustavson."

"I understand, Papa. But can you go now? I'm tired."

Her father's demeanor softened. "As you wish. Goodnight," he said, brushing her hair with a tender hand before leaving her.

She remained silent during breakfast and left as fast as she could for the barn.

After she and Åsmund finished their chores, they climbed up into the hayloft.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

"It was truly impressive how you handled that horse," he said with a smile. "You have a way with animals."

"Thank you, brother," she said with a playful grin.

"But Sigurd was fuming last night when you vanished with that horse."

"I can imagine," she said in a low voice.

"Be careful, Sigrid."

"It'll be fine, dear brother; now go to sleep."

She watched him drift off, and as soon as he was asleep, she slipped out, running up the hill.

Sigrid scanned the stable, but there was no sign of Erik Gustavson. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she slipped inside and put her hands in the pocket where she had tucked a carrot.

She stroked its mane gently, experiencing the familiar warmth of its body; afterward, she opened the stable door.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached from behind.

She tensed, expecting it to be Erik, but when she turned, her breath got caught in her throat.

"It is clear you can't resist me," came a smooth, almost mocking voice.

There stood Ragnar, blocking her way with a confident grin. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his eyes gleaming. "Look at that. Nowhere to run this time."

Sigrid's lips curled into a sly smile. "The wolf is in the woods. It will come if I call," she said, glaring at him.

Ragnar took a step closer. She could see the darkness in his eyes. "Perhaps you shouldn't call," his breath brushing against her ear. "What will you do now?"

She didn't flinch, instead crossing her arms over her chest. "I wouldn't recommend coming any closer."

Ragnar scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the horse. "You don't think a beast like that can stop me, do you?" He said and shot her a look of disdain. "What's that damned creature doing here again?"

"It's now Sigrid's horse," a voice cut in from behind them. "And it stays here as long as she wishes."

Erik Gustavson appeared, his heavy boots making the stable floor creak. He stepped between her and Ragnar.

"Again? I thought you said it wasn't yours."

"It's not mine, but my nephew's," Erik said, his gaze now fixed on his son.

"I was simply keeping it for him." He turned back to Ragnar. "Sigrid is welcome here whenever she likes, and you will be on your best behavior. Understood?"

Ragnar's lips twisted into a sly smirk as he glanced at Sigrid. "Understood."

Erik gave his son a pointed nudge. "Aren't you supposed to be helping your brother?"

"Yes," Ragnar said, still grinning, his eyes never leaving Sigrid's.

"Then be off, boy!"

Ragnar smiled and glanced at Sigrid before leaving.

●●●

Erik proved to be both skilled and patient with the horse, his steady presence making her feel capable, as though her knowledge and abilities truly mattered.

The entire summer passed. Each day, Sigrid rode the horse across Erik Gustavson's land, the wind tugging at her hair as she soared across the open plains.

Ragnar, though, was always straying from his duties, turning up when nobody expected him. He constantly disrupted her solitude, whether with a teasing smirk or a playful remark.

Then, one day, he simply stopped coming.

Sigrid couldn't deny it-she missed him, though she wasn't sure why.

Later that afternoon, after working the horse hard, she took it down to the water for a bath.

She rounded a large rock and froze.

There, in the sun-dappled clearing by the water, stood Ragnar, his hand entwined with a girl's. They were laughing, their faces close, their bodies pressed together.

Ragnar unexpectedly kissed the girl, who seemed quite mature.

Sigrid stood motionless. Her throat constricted, and an unfamiliar, stinging sensation tightened her chest.

Ragnar's eyes met hers. He didn't pull away. He held her gaze, as though daring her to react.

Her cheeks burned. Silently, she retreated, disappearing behind the rock.

The youngest Gustavson brother, Leif, awaited her at the stable.

He appeared her age, reserved, sporting short hair-a stark contrast to his sibling. He reminded her of Åsmund. "Decided on a name?"

"I just named him Fenrir," she said.

"That's a noble name!"

"Thanks! Is your father here?" She asked, her cheeks still like fire.

"No, he's away. Why aren't you allowed to keep him?" He asked with wide eyes.

"Because my father is a fool who thinks only boys can ride, and girls should sit indoors doing needlework."

"I wish I could sew," he said with a sigh.

"You really do?" She studied him as if trying to figure out if he was telling the truth.

"Yes, but my brother would never even consider the thought."

"Neither would mine." She sensed her embarrassment fading.

Leif hesitated, shifting his weight. "I'm sorry about Ragnar's behavior that day. My friend and I should have stopped him."

"Don't think about it," she said gently.

"He can be nice," Leif admitted, running a hand through his hair, "but sometimes he needs to act tough."

She grinned. "Yeah, my brother is the same way. It's like they're trying too hard to prove something."

Leif smirked, but then his expression grew thoughtful. "My father says it's normal at that age and forbids Ragnar from being near you because of that.

Her cheeks burnt again, the warmth creeping up her neck. She glanced away, fumbling for a response. Unthinkingly, the words escaped her. "I just saw Ragnar by the water with a woman... they were kissing."

Leif's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What?"

"Yeah. I-I didn't mean to see it; I just... passed by."

A laugh flickered across Leif's face, quickly replaced by a headshake. "That sounds like Ragnar, all right."

"Do you want me to show you?" She asked, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

"Yes!" Leif said, his eyes lighting up.

As they neared the water, they heard splashing and squealing. Ragnar and the lady had moved deeper into the woods to hide whatever they were doing there.

Leif and Sigrid lay down behind a bush.

They spotted clothes lying on the ground. Leif and Sigrid glanced at each other and giggled.

"If my father saw this, Ragnar would be in real trouble!"

"Should we take their clothes?" Sigrid asked, gleaming.

●●●