Gunnilda walks out into the snow

Gunnilda had had enough. Alwy and Sigebert had been practicing barnyard animal noises for the past half hour, with a particular focus on pigs. Wynna would sit on the floor demanding to be picked up, and as soon as she was picked up would squirm until she was put down. The dinner had been burnt and the smell still lingered in the air. And she was tired – so tired.

“I’m going outside for some air,” she muttered to Alwy.

“Mooooooooooooo!” Alwy answered, sending Sigebert into fits of oinking.

It was cold outside, but oh how good it felt. The house was stifling – and crowded.

Gunnilda desperately needed some time alone. The children were with her all day – Sigebert no longer took naps – and Alwy lay next to her all night. If she tried to get up while he slept, he would inevitably follow and pester her about her health. “Are you sick, Gunnie? Are you sick, Gunnie?” She was sick of being asked whether she was sick.

There was no moon, but the sky was clear, and the starlight reflecting off the snow allowed her to see well enough once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

But the night was deeper beyond the trees behind her house: no lights shone out from the Wodehead farm. Elfleda had not yet returned home, which meant that Egelric hadn’t either.

Elfleda and her elf baby had been staying with the Ashdowns for the past three days. Ever since the men had first gone out looking for Egelric, she would just sit and rock her baby with a faint smile on her face. “Have you found him?” she would ask anyone who entered the room, even if it was only Ethelmund come in from the barn. 

Githa had told her that the only time Elfleda had said anything else was when she overheard Duke Alred and Theobald Selle talking about checking the ice on the river to see if he might have fallen through. Then Elfleda turned her head to them and said, “He’s not in the river. He’s not dead.”

Elfleda was an odd woman, Gunnilda told herself. She had found an elf child, after all. Perhaps Elfleda Wodehead could see things others could not. She certainly hoped so.

She decided she would just walk down to the crossroads, never mind that she wasn’t dressed. If there were any late passers-​​by, she could ask for the news. Perhaps someone would have heard something… perhaps they might have found him…

Indeed, someone was coming. Gunnilda walked faster, hoping to meet him before he passed. But just before she reached the crossroads she stopped, stunned. She knew that walk – the dark head bent but the shoulders straight, and the bold stride that always seemed as of a man who had set off for the end of the earth, confident that he would arrive. It was Egelric.

Gunnilda hid behind a tree and watched him, her heart pounding. Elfleda had spoken true. Thank God for Alwy and Sigebert and their pig noises!

Egelric walked through the crossroad and did not turn. He must be going home, she thought. And yet she couldn’t let him go on alone. What if he just kept walking and disappeared again? She would never forgive herself for letting him go a second time.

Ducking from tree to tree, Gunnilda followed along behind him, never letting him out of her sight.