It was a nightmare, except, it seemed there was no chance that she’d wake to find it all over.
Valkyrie’s skull stood thick and resistant against the quiet, nurturing lesson so attempted by the enduring stag-like deity. Perhaps had the feisty, fiery-tempered young Shieldmaiden not been so brainwashed by the Sisterhood back in Sunnmōre, the benevolent, patient words spoken might not have been so poorly received—as it were, her entire understanding of the world and the dynamics of the cultures within it, were biased beyond logic. The pale-faced girl saw only the perspective of the education instilled within her, the smouldering eyes of the enemy gazing back; she would annihilate them all.
—once, of course, she had reigned in her flailing, wailing emotions and shed the infuriating bind of shadow.
Though distance grew between them—gradually—for Valkyrie, both humiliated, confused and writhing with anger beyond her ability to control, strode as swiftly as she could from the other’s presence, the smooth, melodic voice of the deer joined the wind whispering around her pulsing, painfully drawn out exit. With undeterred bitterness rampant through her own tone, the adolescent growled, “I don’t need you to fix me!” …an oath that perhaps promised a self-inflicted sentence of eternal anguish. Her stinging, tear-filled eyes did not divert from the wetted earth passing in a blur beneath her hooves and sharply-shaped ears did not flinch from their nest of flinging, drenched mane.
Valkyrie had no greater desire for Hope, than to see her perish with the Neanderthal species she so endorsed.
Halyven
