I had never been so vulnerable. So full of fear. And I had never hated myself until that moment. I remembered the light reflecting off the snow. The sound of my quick breath in the silence. Thinking that if I died, I wouldn’t reach Sólbjǫrg. Then, the all-consuming shame of being afraid to die for the very first time in my life. I could see the reds and oranges and yellows of the battlefield. The heat and the sting of pain. The burn of a war cry in my throat. I could see myself, alive. Strong. I blinked. And there was only the white and cold and quiet of that forest. There was only loneliness.
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