{798 words - Summons Quest Part 2}

On her second visit, Hvergelmir brought carrots, as she'd promised herself she'd do. The island was as still and slumberous as ever -- undisturbed in her absence -- but that didn't mean she was wholly alone.

She hoped.

"Eikthyrnir?" she called out, brushing her thumb across the opal ring once more. "Are you here?"

Hvergelmir had the sensation of being watched, but wondered if she only imagined it. There was no answer, but -- just for a moment, staring into the rolling waters of her well -- she thought she saw a flash of movement. Everything in the well was moving, of course: the stars swayed back and forth in their reflections on the burbling water, dancing in their slow courses. It didn't have to mean anything. A trick of the eye, maybe.

But she hoped.

Her slipper-shod feet brought her across the island. The stone felt warm and smooth as ever beneath her footsteps, and though there was a little lingering sadness, walking past the empty strip of land she'd cleared out to rebuild what had once been a flourishing garden, it bothered her less now. I'll replant it one day, she'd already decided. Vegetables and herbs, as it had once been, and riotously colored trees and flowers gifted to her from far-off worlds, for her enjoyment. There was a bench that now sat there, all alone. It had been overturned when she'd found it; now it was set to rights.

Near the well, freshly dyed ribbons were drying, while newly woven ones still soaked. Things were better here, now, than when she'd found them. Not restored, but definitely better. That was something to take pride in.

Except the stables. The damage there, from years of slow decay and rot, was heavy and difficult for her to maneuver around. Wood had long since caved in, leaving a collapsed roof and buried stalls. If a great caribou had lived here once, it certainly couldn't do so now.

Perhaps, then, that was the problem. Living or not, by Earth standards -- Eikthyrnir was still a sentient creature, still possessed of life and feelings. This was not a proper housing arrangement.

I'm stronger now, Hvergelmir thought, starting to carefully pull away old planks of wood to clear one of the stalls. I can at least make a start of it.

It took time and effort. After an hour or so, she had to pause to find something to put against the supporting beams to make sure the roof didn't collapse any further -- which meant sacrificing her pushbroom to the effort, but seemed to work for now. In another few hours -- exhausted, grimy, dripping with sweat, nursing a few bruises -- she had the best part of a stall cleared.

"I'll need another broom to get it done properly," she announced to no one in particular. "And maybe a trip to Home Depot? And some definite D-I-Y googling." Hvergelmir dusted off her hands. "Baby steps, though. One thing at a time."

She turned, and though there was no one else there with her, something was different. She swore, for a moment, that she saw wet droplets puddling the stone floor: then, just as quickly, they faded from view. When she looked up, she saw Eikthyrnir, but not -- only a memory from long ago, standing with another version of herself. Nephthys again.

The great caribou thumped both front hooves in protest of the treatment. Nephthys smiled and tugged an antler playfully.

"Well, they're your teeth, old friend, not mine," she teased. "It's not my problem if you want to leave half a bale of hay stuck in there, but you won't be happy about it in the long term." She folded her arms. "Don't sulk."

Eikthyrnir most definitely sulked. The creature let out a loud snort, then lowered its head again with a groan that reverberated impressively in the open space. Runnels of water tilted with the movement down its bright golden antlers, dripping carelessly to the ground. It cast a baleful eye in the woman's direction.

"Better," she acknowledged, reaching well-decorated fingers and some sort of long metal pick into its mouth to start resuming her work. "It's nearly out -- now, don't bite my fingers off, or I'll never forgive you."

Hvergelmir smiled as the memory settled away into a corner of her mind, another fond recollection. The memories here were peaceful, at least; far better than the sorrow that came with recollections of the lost future that might be waiting for them. At least these memories, she knew, were over and done with, for good and for ill. They didn't have to worry her.

"I'll be back with more supplies," Hvergelmir promised -- then vanished back to Earth.