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"There should be ale in the corner," Ubbe said, sitting down with a hard plop on a chair, carefully bringing his leg up onto another. He leaned forward and reached for lint to light the kiln and candles. Lhyrie pulled up a chair next to him and the fire and began unwrapping his bandage. It had reopened, but not deep enough that she needed to brand him. She reached for her bag and pulled out a leaf. Crushing into a fine powder, she stuffed it into the wound. "Acch, stop doing that!" Ubbe begged, nearly kicking her.

"Stop fussing," she said, rewrapping it. "I should've put something on your eye. It's swollen shut now."

"No, no, no. Nothing more." He pushed his chair away from her and the torture she was providing. He grabbed the ale from Sigurd who was laughing at him. "Shut up," he warned.

Lhyrie smiled wide and accepted the ale Sigurd handed to her. It tasted bitter and old as the rush of alcohol hit her hard and made her lightheaded instantly. She must have made a face, because both of them started laughing at her. "What?"

"Careful, the Chinese slave, Yidu, made this for our father. Who knows what's in it," Sigurd chuckled.

"I don't see you two affected," she said, teasing.

"We've had it before," Ubbe smirked.

"I don't think she'll last a glass," Sigurd commented as her face began to flush. Lhyrie took another sip.

"You can only last a glass," Ubbe threw his empty cup at his brother.

She felt her vision start to blur and the feeling in her fingers fade. What was in this? She thought. It would be useful for setting bones. The world spun around her and blackness eloped her vision. "I should have warned you..." she heard before succumbing to sleep.

Lhyrie held her head as she sat up and stretched the sleep out of her. They had slept on the floor and gave her the giant bed to sleep in. Still passed out, she crept outside and grabbed her medical bag, careful not to wake them. She was met with someone at the door.

"Hello," a cheery voice whispered at her. "Don't worry," she said, sensing Lhyrie about to scream or fight her, "I will not kill you or Ragnar's son. I just want to talk to them." Astrid looped her arm with hers and pulled her away from the farmhouse and toward her horse. "If you wait here, I will give you a ride back to Kattegat."

"What do you want with them?" Lhyrie asked, wishing again that she had her sword with her.

"I just want to talk," Astrid replied with a wide-eyed grin. "I promise." She pinched Lhyrie's cheek before turning to walk back into the farmhouse.

She wanted to run and knock her down, but stayed planted in her spot as she watched the woman sneak into the farmhouse as quiet as a ghost. Her sword and shield stayed hitched to the horse Lhyrie was guarding. Several anxious minutes past before she heard talking come from the house and then a clash at the door, like an object was thrown. Astrid walked out confidently with a smile.

"See, just to talk," she said, climbing onto her horse and offering a hand to Lhyrie. Still feeling the effects of whatever she drank last night, she was hesitant on walking back to Kattegat without water or food, so she took Astrid's hand and climbed onto the horse. Part of her felt like she was betraying Ubbe and Sigurd by doing so, but it was just a horse ride. Her hatred for Lagertha and, in turn, Astrid, was still fresh in her mind.

"I know you are stronger than Margarethe," Astrid said about halfway to Kattegat. "So I won't ask you to betray Ragnar's sons."

"Good," Lhyrie replied, "Because I would kill you if you did."

Her stomach rumbled and she regretted not having a slice of bread before leaving Kattegat, as she now smelled the vapors emitting from her bag. She was saving it for her expedition today. Today she would venture out and find the flowers she had committed to memory from her pass to and from the Ragnarsson's new home. She prepared for a long day.

She pushed past the beggars and the stalls on the outskirts of town, looking idly on the small trinkets of silver they wished to sell. She thought upon the many adventures these trinkets took, coming from faraway lands and the scenes they must have seen. How she somewhat longed to venture out again on foreign lands and explore the wide world around her, as Kattegat held little for her now.

How surprised she was, that daily life came about so naturally. The traders went about their business, the farmers went back to harvesting, the blacksmiths went on smiting. The world kept turning, as hers and many others, felt spiraling down. She returned to work, not working with her aunt – no that memory was much to fresh. But out of her uncle's home where she fixed the minor aches and pains that working life brought about. She birthed a few babes and watched a few die, and cried with their mothers, rethinking how cruel death was. She amputated an arm that was stampeded over by a flock of sheep, wishing the Gods would take her hearing from her when she witnessed that howl. She avoided Lagertha and Astrid, certain her threat to Astrid did not sit well with the court. She did not want to fight the court, nor want to abide them.

Passing the outskirts of town, she heard her named called by a familiar voice.

"Lhryie? Wait!"

Ubbe sprinted up the hill toward her, out of breath and sweating in the morning heat. He looked well, his injuries from the fight in the Hall were healing nicely, only a slight scar formed on his face and no limp lingered anymore. His blue eyes smiled as she caught her just leaving the gates.

"Ubbe, what are you doing here?" She asked, she hadn't seen him since that time, a few weeks ago.

"I sold my horse," he said, opening his arms so that he had nothing of value. He had a few traps hanging from his shoulders and a bag of grain, but other than his sword, he remained empty handed. "Are you going by the river?" He asked. She nodded in response. "May I join you? I have traps to set on my way back."

"I would enjoy the company, and someone who knows that land," she replied with a smile. "I see your leg is healing well. All that pain was worth it," she said with a laugh, looking back at him.

"I wouldn't say worth it, but indeed it is healed. Thank you." They walked in silence for a moment. Lhyrie was gazing at the blue skies and clouds floating effortlessly by, the Viking summer she missed while she was away. "Are you collecting plants?" He asked after a time.

"Yes, I remember where some are, but others I'm not so sure. Are you sure you're up to such a walk?"

"I have no horse now, so I better be."

They followed the river and the tall grasses that bordered its course for a short time, before stumbling on a long flowing field, filled with lavender and daffodils. The purple spires made Lhyrie forget the bread that was still warm in her bag as their scent filled her with warmth and comfort. She breathed in deep and let the scent wash over her.

"Here, help me," she said to Ubbe, skipping into the field and pulling at a lavender plant. She put the petals into her bag, but not before bringing a handful of them to her nose to smell. She gave a great sigh and continued to pluck.

"Lavender?" He asked curiously, but came to help her pull petals.

"Yes, it's calming and helpful for sleep," she said, twirling to look at him. He was sauntering behind her, but pulled petals off the plants nevertheless. "Make sure you grab daffodils, too." She called.

"Why daffodils?"

"They're good for digestion and if you ingest poison."

"I hope I don't do that," he said dryly.

"But if you do, reach for daffodil," she said, pulling the bright yellow flowers off one. It stained her fingers, but she didn't mind. "It's a silly weed, but great medicine." His hands were full of purple and yellow pedals, the various colors dying his fingertips and cervices. She turned back to him, her hands just as full, as he sneezed and sent the pedals flying. "Now, look what you've done," she teased.

"Sorry," he apologized, rubbing his nose, yellow and purple leaving their mark on his face. He sneezed again. "These plants don't sit well with me."

"Just not your nose," she said, handing him a spare cloth. He took it freely and ran it over his face.

"Sigurd's been having nightmares; would that help him?" He asked, hesitantly wiping the dander from his hands.

"If thrown in the fire at sleep, or," to his weary side eye, "if crushed into an oil and applied to the temples."

"And how would you use daffodil?"

"You could eat it whole," she said, popping one whole flower into her mouth, but pursed her lips to its sour taste, "But it's quite bitter and tastes better when brewed as a tea."

He picked up a few of the plants he had scattered on the ground and placed them in her bag and asked, "How'd you learn so much?"

"My mother taught me," she looked down with a gulp.

"I'm sorry for her death. Lagertha had no right to kill her."

"She took up her sword, there was no way they would've known she was a healer." She wrung her hands on the cloth Ubbe gave back to her and pushed off back toward the river. The day was pooling sweat on her brow and the talk of the dead made her flush further. "But let's not talk on that now."

They crossed into the shade the trees that lined the river provided and she ran her fingers through the cold water and then over her face, taking in the refreshing touch that cooled her sudden warmth of sadness. The thoughts surrounding her mother's death and the overturn of Kattegat grew less and less in her mind over the weeks, but hardly anyone spoke of them in Kattegat and Ubbe had been withdrawn from it.

"Where are you going to set your traps?" She asked as they followed the river bank. She watched as the water rolled over the rocks in sharp angles.

"Where the forest grows thicker near the river. Not for a little while though."

"Is the pool this way?" She looked around, trying to gather her bearings. She was utterly lost already and they'd been walking just a few hours perhaps.

"No," he said with a laugh. "That is the other way," he said, pointing behind them down the river.

"Are you sure? This looks familiar."

The forest was growing thicker, the endless trunks and leaves that were throwing light made her dizzy if she tried to sort through them. She tried to map her surroundings as she walked; the swimming pool and training field where east; they were walking west, northwest it seemed. Lavender, daffodils and a fairly large batch of seaweeds already dotted the landscape in this direction; she would try to explore easterly tomorrow.

She would have to remember to wear a dress tomorrow, too, instead of slacks and a tunic. Treading into the river to grab the batch of seaweed, she shivered from the ice-cold waters that pierced her cloth pants and stayed damp. Laying out on the soft grasses she dried quickly in the hot sun as Ubbe set one of his traps within the woods. He was muttering something as he walked, moving his hands like he was explaining something.

"I can't hear you," she called at him, leaning back on her elbows. He stopped abruptly and turned around, his brow cocked in one direction.

"Oh, nothing," he mumbled before turning back and disappearing behind a tree.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the loaf of bread she had baked earlier that day. Tearing into it, she wafted in the odors, realizing how hungry she had been from walking. She wished she had some cheese to go along with it, and watched a few fish jump from the river as her stomach rumbled more.

"You don't have any else with that?" Ubbe asked, emerging from the forest.

"I wish. Didn't you pick up any food from the market when you sold your horse?"

"No," he smirked, sitting down next to her and ripping a piece of bread off her loaf. "I was hoping these traps gave more food."

They rested for a moment before setting off again. Lhyrie wasn't quite certain how far she would venture today, at least until she had to part with Ubbe, however far along that was. She was certain she had seen black hellebore coming to and from their residence several weeks ago, but now she was not so sure, having walked what seemed like hours already and not found them. They had stopped periodically, letting Ubbe set a trap here or there and she grazed a field, hoping to come up with a useful plant. The sun had to be at midday by now, as she could feel the sweat clinging to her and Ubbe removed the outer layer of his vest.

"Will you marry Jagar?" He asked as they sat by the river. He was knotting together a net to submerge into the rapids and asked without looking up from his work.

Lhyrie was sorting through the flowers she had picked and grouping them by purpose; she blushed and wiped a piece of hair from her eyes. "He would make a good husband," she told him.

He snorted and looked up at her, pulling his knot tight. "As a farmer."

"Your father was a farmer, remember that. And... it's reliable work."

"You'd absolutely hate it."

"I would grow to enjoy it. Besides, I could still heal as well. A lot of the injuries I treat are farming related anyway."

"You should be a shield-maiden," he said, entombed with his work. Lhyrie shook him off with a slight smirk. "If Lagertha saw you fight she would want you in her guard. I would've been gutted like a fish if you didn't have your sheath on," he raised his tunic up to expose the scar on his abdomen.

"No... I couldn't fight for Lagertha. And that was luck," she pulled a weed from the grass and rolled it through her fingers. She looked over at him hesitantly. "How about you? Are you going to marry Margarethe?"

He shifted slightly, but didn't break his concentration or his progress. "She is a slave."

"You could still marry her." He shrugged his shoulders at her. "I heard a rumor..." she proceeded cautiously, "that she was the reason you and Sigurd went to Hedeby?" She stopped twirling the blade of grass and looked toward him. He stopped and stared at her, not coldly or angry, just a soft blank stare. She wasn't quite certain, but the way Astrid mentioned her on their ride to Kattegat made it seem so.

Clearing his throat and went back to his net. "Well, yes. She lured us there to try and decide who would have her."

"Mhm..." She wasn't certain what to say, she wasn't sure he was even going to address it. "Like you said, she is a slave. She had no choice."

"That is why I did not kill her."

"Did you decide then... who would have her?" She blushed as she asked. What would it matter who had Margarethe? She tried not to be jealous, but couldn't refrain herself from asking.

"I am the oldest," he said simply.

"And because you're the oldest, you can take whoever you want?" His answer irked something in her and she boarded anger. She tried to steady her voice and remain neutral, but her words came faster than she could control.

"I ask permission from them."

"They are slaves – they would never say no, despite how they feel."

"Perhaps, but I don't think so... Have you had sex?" He threw his finished net into the river and looked up at her.

She felt her face get hot with embarrassment and continued to play with a blade of grass. "Yes," she answered simply.

"To more than more one man?"

"I don't see how that concerns you."

"What if Jagar is terrible in bed?"

"Than that would be my concern."

Ubbe snorted and pulled at his new net, testing its make in the water. "Then you know that it is hard to lie during sex."

"Not for women," she giggled at him.

Just then, his net cut loose and was pulled down the river, fish flapping through the holes. Ubbe ran after it, cursing and trotted into the quick river, catching it before it slipped farther down. "How does fish sound?" He asked, pulling the net upward, several fish dangling off its loop.

"That sounds wonderful, but shouldn't we be at your crossroads by now?"

"Oh, we past that a while ago," he answered, wrestling with the fish.

"Why didn't you turn home?"

"You weren't finished with your flower hunting, and you have absolutely no idea where you are."

"I would have found my way," she said, crossing her arms with a grunt.

"You are far too pretty to be eaten by a bear," he said with a smirk in her direction, finally successful in wringing the fish free of the net.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. They both looked up at the skies, noticing the clouds growing thicker and moving as fast as the river at their feet. Ubbe, fish in hand, ran where the woods ended and looked up curious at the sky. Thor struck again. Lhyrie rubbed her arms together for warmth as the wind passed cold by her and she shivered. She grabbed her satchel to her shoulder and met Ubbe out in the plain.

"A storm is coming – quick," he said, motioning her toward him. "We have wasted more day talking, we will not reach Kattegat before nightfall."

"Could we reach the farmhouse before the rain?" She asked, trying to rub the goosebumps out of her arms.

He furrowed his brow, looking out into the rolling plains, as if looking for a sign. "No... but I think my brother's hunting lodge is just over the ridge. Come." He grabbed her hand and pressed forward, away from the protection of the woods into the full force winds.