The ice wind burnt her cheeks as she stood there, silent and motionless like a statue. Only her eyes moved, following a moose that wandered beyond the snow fields. A large muscled creature, which looked like a small moving pebble from afar. She glanced at the camp behind her, which was stationed between large boulders. Any shelter from wind was a gift from The Great Spirits one should not turn away from.
She then looked down at her pale furs and the large bump they hid beneath. Her son. Torgrun's son... An obstacle.
She moved her eyes back at the moose again. No matter which direction she'd come from, he would see her. The moose had long strong legs and were easily startled. He'd run and she'd have to wear him down and she was in no condition to run such a distance. The short woman growled.
She could hear her father's words echoing in the back of her mind, True wisdom is turning away when the winds are not in your favour. Have patience, Vaalea. And as she turned to return to the camp, her father stood behind her, a knowing smile on his wrinkly features. He was well aware it would madden his daughter that he had managed to sneak behind her. The man was right, she frowned, mostly at her own incompetence, yet managed a smile at the old man, You move like a spirit. I hope you are not one yet, father.
Soon, Vaalea...But first I have to hunt for us. This man you have chosen has a bottomless belly, he smiled somewhat wider. She raised her gaze above her short father's head, Well he is twice as tall, twice as wide, twice as hungry and twice as stubborn as one man. I think the Great Spirits put accidentally spirits of two men inside his skin.
Her father smiled at the idea, even thought he also seemed to consider if it was actually possible. She looked over the camp, her eyes fixating on the fur tent of their shaman, Vanha Juuta. An ancient woman, who had after Vaalea's birth claimed that the infant girl was carrying the spirit of an ice wrath. It was clear where the old woman had gotten the idea. Vaalea looked utterly strange compared to her tribesmen. They were all black, brown or red of hair and their skins tanned, where she was white of hair and pale as snow. The only feature they seemed to share was the short stature. She glared at the old woman's tent for a moment, before moving her gaze at her own dwelling, Take him with you. He is slow and loud, but strong and enduring. He can wear the beast down.
Her father smiled widely, I was planning to take him with me.
She glanced at him with a wolfish grin, staring at the man intently as if reading his thoughts, You are making him pull the sledge.
He shrugged with a matching wolfish grin, the merry gleam in his eyes revealing the truth of his plan.
She rolled her eyes, staring at the old man lovingly for a moment, before heading back into the camp, Do not make him too angry or he might smash you inside the snow.
