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He'd been out a few hours longer than he'd wanted. He'd gotten another, more tech-savvy student to print him out directions to an old fashioned tailor in the downtown area. The tailor himself had been older, surprised to have someone so young or ...large in his store, and certainly anyone not of one of the skyscrapers and white-collar jobs. Björn was glad though, as meeting the man had gone well, and his measurements were now on file should he need to have anything made in the near future in the way of dress shirts, slacks, suits or ties.

He'd only gone fifteen minutes along before trying to keep immediate track of reversing all the list of directions had become a failure. He'd screwed it up somewhere, forgetting to take a left and make it a right on the way back. He should have had the boy print out a copy of reverse directions as well. Live and learn? Asking for directions to Hillworth was probably asking for trouble from anyone not working a convenience store, and he wasn't seeing any of those nearby.

The skyscrapers had let loose to high stone townhouses with well manicured front gardens with stalwart gates, and a old stone church....probably some relic of early colonial settlement. It was a nice area. Really nice the way rich old areas on the East Coast could be.

A familiar, muffled cadence and vocals of Ásmegin interrupted his train of thought. He fished the think out and shook his head. Well, here was pleasant luck in bad waters anyway. Oh...she would have to deal with his written grammar. It was harder than when speaking to someone. Well, he had told her of his family abroad, so maybe she would excuse it as a fault of a foreign boy....even if he was American. Maybe that was a dishonest hope, but he shrugged.

He carefully punched out the letters of a reply with his pinky -


In concentration, he did not notice the shadow gathering along the sidewalk, or consider much about movement in his peripheral. Someone across the street was probably walking a dog from the sound of it.

He'd never read much about falconry, only managed to chat up some enthusiasts and trainers at the Crestwood Highland games where a competition and demonstrations were held early in the day. It was always held a little further away from the main pavilions to avoid the larger birds getting any ideas about the Cairn terriers looking snacky during the canine trials.

One of the Falconers had mentioned long ago that the birds could and were used in war at need. Large Eagles could carry off wolves for food, or even small children once they dismembered the bodies. Periphery thoughts, sensations as empty as the sound of his phone clattering along the sidewalk, once there was a whorl of black feathers and wings, talons already clawing for his chest.

He could get his arms up, but the chaos made focus impossible. Adrenaline was only just starting to pump and make it possible for him to discern individual limbs and talons. He caught the beak as it came for his face. The kind man had said raptors would go for a human's eyes. But what was losing an eye compared to the pain blossoming from the talons at his chest? Surely it could not hurt so much to get clawed, however deeply? Was it just clawing? What was this thing and where had it come from?

It wasn't enough. Even adrenaline wasn't enough for whatever this thing was - it had the ambush perfectly.

Am I going to die? It was resigned, his own thoughts in growing silence around him.

Whatever it was was knocked gratefully from his grasp and from its immediate attack. He caught mostly the colors of red and black and first. Sound returned and his head was clearing. Heels on concrete. A woman’s voice, shuddering a little as it called out. His brain caught up then- she was defending him!
She….was ..wearing an odd sort of uniform, bejeweled at crown and ankle with a skirt short like those in music videos. Black of hair and fiery eyes. Valiantly she stood between, but arms out to her sides was no way to face an attacker. It got across the message of warding well, he supposed. She declared herself a wall to be broken through.

“Shieldmaiden? Valkyrja?” It was spoken softly, mostly to himself, but audible. She bore no weapon he could see. And would the Valkyrs care about fashion to update to ….what this woman was wearing? It was probably better to not try to make assumptions just yet. They were both in danger.

He shifted to kneeling, keeping an arm over his breast, but not looking down. Adrenaline gave you a few minutes, as long as you never looked. And really, as the pain was subsiding, he wasn’t certain he wanted to know what….if any…damage had been done. The wound it had been making was not for purpose of blood. There was a fading hollowed feeling that he couldn’t match to any cut or bruise he’d ever had in his life. The ‘bird’ was a strange, vile looking thing. A great Valravn of the Danes? He didn’t know. It was a magic thing, beyond his understanding.

Somehow, he had a protector? He had been in no battles. He served no kings in faithful sacrifice on misted field. That was for a time long ago. “The beak distracts from the aim of the claws.” He could figure that much. The beak would have wounded, but the talons were what carried out its will.

He would worry about the hospital when there was chance they could break to safety, or when that thing was slain. Could he help her at all? His hands were alright. His legs were fine. That may or may not be helpful. “I can stand. “

And if he could stand, he could run if she needed him to. It would force the thing to choose its target – the wounded one, or the dangerous one. If she was either of his guesses, she was dangerous. It would free her of immediately babysitting him. If it chose him, it meant she could attack it in the opening, yes? Still, he would defer to the battle plans, if she gave any, of the shieldmaiden. She must know what her foe was, coming so quickly to face it. “If I can help, command it. Either to act or to get out of your way.”

He caught her with his free arm as she was knocked into him, trying not to let her spill on the pavement. He didn't dare risk speaking again, taking her concentration for the enemy. But the damage was already done in a way, and she still wasn't paying the thing enough mind, or hadn't come to battle with a plan.

Were there ranks of experience among the holy women? Those younger less used to battle? He couldn't come up with a better idea, so he stuck with that one. She certainly looked young, though just passing marriageable age by ancient standards. Valkyrja were maidens of battle, not marrying, though.

Then she was giving a directive, and he supported her up to standing again in preparation to follow it, though again the assault came.

Her reaction was ....remarkable? Frightening? True magic, breathing fire even as the linnorm! Frightening power unleashed...though to take so much to get to such a tactic. Her ire, if so hot and hasty, probably did not cool just because fire followed her words for a few moments. Would one enemy sate her? Was he in worse danger now? Her certainly had no defenses against dragon's breath.

He stood, not willing to show fear and bolt like a maniac, but not a bundle of exploding thanks and energy either. Cautious, gracious thanks, tone not to belittle her but to elevate her, was what he intended to offer, "Not much of an enemy, to last one blow. Thank you...if I weren't in the way, your task would have been easy."

He was pretty sure he couldn't have done that in one blow.

She seemed proud of her efforts, then froze for a fraction of a second and was gone. A quick hightail that he neither understood nor could follow after. What would be the point? She might vanish into cloud down that alley, or take revenge on him for following when he obviously wasn't meant to.

That was all then? She had appeared in his need, and vanished when the creature was vanquished. She HAD to be a Valkyrie. He had to find someone to ask. Someone who would know about this sort of thing, or where to look it up. Would Colin? Maybe. Colin had good grades, and might not laugh at the mere mention of an old religion.

He'd never considered himself very religious before, but he had a great uncle who studied all the old epochs and very much lived according to Norse philosophy. He had a cousin who had been going to Lutheran churches her whole life. The rest of his family....didn't really believe in anything. This might be cause to rethink those couple times he had chuckled at Uncle Næmr.

He stood paralyzed for some moments, watching blindly the alley she had vanished down. His phone had wound down from its initial music to the reminder bing that a message was STILL new and unread in his inbox, which was good because he wouldn't have located it easily in the shadows of a postal box nearby. He crouched and picked the poor thing up, protected from most scuffing in its contractor's casing.

The words swam a little, unreal and odd after the little encounter. Were there street signs? He walked a few meters from the ozone smell of flames to the nearest crossing.



He finally risked looking at his chest, since directions to the nearest health clinic might be more reasonable than to the school. His shirt was unbroken, leading him to pull open the top three buttons of his shirt and loosen the tie. There was a great deal of swelling, and the beginning mottle of a violent bruise over the center of his chest. From the impact? It must be. He had been certain it had been going for his heart, but his heart wasn't in that place was it? Weren't they to the left? And what had been the wrenching, tiring, emptying feeling?

"It is too strange. " He said it allowed to himself, still startling at the sound in the relative silence that permeated the little block. He rubbed his thumbpad over it, winced, and abandoned the gesture as it proved real enough.

He looked up from his state of dishevel, trying to muster an uncertain smile. She had found him fast. Had she been nearby? Maybe she lived near, since the area was distinctly affluent. "It is good you did. The strangest thing happened... "

That her arm was wet didn't occur to him at first, his attention mostly focused on her face. By the time she'd made it to him, though, that fact was inescapable. They'd met by a coffee spill, and seeing a part of her dripping again recalled the instant. There were fine lines of red fanning out from thin wounds, following the paths water had trail-blazed along her skin. Red was not clear water or the dark of coffee. "I...was headed back to the school...I suppose I should call it home since I dorm there. But..I think I don't want the dorm first. The medical office at the school..."

He had to interrupt himself and ask, "Your arm. It is wet and hurt?"

It was the same arm, similar cuts, as the Valkyrie. But this was Talia, wearing normal, reasonable Talia clothes. He didn't know how spirits worked. Had the Valkyrie given the wounds to the nearest woman as she left? Or maybe it wasn't related at all. Maybe Talia had been attacked by something, too, and that is why the Valkyrie had been in such a rush to go. Better to let Talia answer.

Falling out of trees rarely had that sort of effect. He called it a plain excuse to himself, not lie. She’d avoided altogether asking for further information about ‘a strange thing happening’, or even acknowledging that he’d said it. She wasn’t commenting about the impact bruise or the undone shirt in public. This obviously wasn’t a magazine shoot for a Brut product advertisement.

She was jumping straight to talk of hospitals.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had gone down between Talia and that Valkyrie, but at least one part of the answer seemed pretty plain: Talia had been attacked; she wasn’t sure what to make of it, and she was trying to pawn it off as not having happened.
For some reason.
The two being one person was not even on radar.

Avoidance instead of confrontation? She was a proud seeming girl, not without reason as far as he could tell, so the idea of being victimized might be monstrous to her. What noble wanted to admit in a presence like his that they’d been bested at anything at any time? Or maybe the fear was too near. He couldn’t really know, in the end. He’d not followed the Valkyrie to the second battle, nor did he know Talia very well.

He accepted the excuse with a non-committal nod. It was the sort where his mouth was a grim line, and his eyes reflecting more grey than blue under narrowed lashes. He would not gainsay her about the cuts, whatever he was thinking. She deserved her dignity.

“I do not think badly hurt. It is just a bad bruise. It is more…I feel tired. “ Since she had avoided approaching the subject, he felt like he could approach describing the thing either. Couldn’t just say he’d been attacked by the oddest creature, he thought a Valravn, but that instead of going for his heart it had been doing something else. That he hadn’t felt so tired in the moments before the attack. “It is unusual, little work today, and so early in the day. Do you think a hospital needed? They could wrap your arm, too, I guess.”

It was a good idea, he guessed, if they’d both been attacked. “Are you safe to drive with one arm? Moving the other much will pull the cut apart.”

It was a not question if he should drive her car, he would not assume that much of anyone else’s car. More toned towards ‘do we need to call someone to get us?’