Thorvald’s Wyrd 050
Every breath brought pain, every step agony, but an old warrior had once told him pain meant life. Every moment of pain was one more Thorvald clung to life. Every frozen breath fueled his heart and the fire in his belly. He approached a death worthy of a thousand lines, if only there was a skald to see.
Hair stood on the back of his neck, bristling against the inside of the fur collar. Some secret sense told him his moment had come. Fingers brittle around Gungnir’s haft, he prayed for the All Father’s aim, spun, and made his cast.