Rikvi Farseer made her way to the infirmary. Every so often she had to stop and wait for the visions to stop crowding so close, or for Raven’s wings to part enough that she knew where she was putting one foot in front of the other.

It was mostly okay, as long as she kept going in the right direction.

The infirmary was still crowded and hummed with barely contained chaos, but she found Tove amongst the other healers without a problem. The druid was tasked with tending to those who needed long, slow healing. Vines crawled between cots. Wisps dipped and weaved above patients.

“Tove,” Rikvi said, her voice low and rough. “I have a message for you, Tove, Walker Among Wolves.”

The smaller Norn twitched, as she always did when Rikvi used That Voice. Her cousin was intimidating enough. The shaman was downright frightening. “And what would that be?”

“The road diverges here.”

For a moment Tove cocked her head, cursing the fact that Rikvi spoke in fucking riddles. Then a memory flashed in her mind. Leaves trembled. A couple of wisps slipped from her control and vanished. She held up a shaking hand and called them forth again.

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because your loyalty will cut you to ribbons otherwise.” Rikvi didn’t like making eye contact, but she dropped her gaze down to Tove’s, green eyes to blue. 

Tove looked away first. “I have work to do.”

Rikvi nodded, and walked away.


“That was a cruel thing to have me do,” she muttered.

A cruelty to you is a kindness for her. Given the choice, who would you rather bleed, shaman? 

Rikvi, Farseer and Harbinger, sighed deeply.

Author Ambrosine
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