[Arry]

‘You know, you’d better get yourself cleaned up before Unna sees the mud you’ve tracked all over!’ Skald poured himself a mug of steaming tea, lacing it with a generous helping of honey, and pulled out the chair opposite his brother. He sipped at the hot brew, looking out over the rim of his mug as he did so, grinning at the raggedy sight that presented itself.

Riv sat slumped against the back of his chair, his feet resting on the seat of another chair he’d pulled up close. Clots of dried mud fell onto the wooden seat as he shifted himself for comfort. His dirty, mud stained hands cradled the mug of tea he’d made for himself. Occasionally they would raise it to his mouth, in a bone weary manner. Skald’s grin faded from his face as he looked carefully at his brother. Beneath the layer of dirt and grime, Riv’s skin was pale, the area about his eyes drawn. He looked into some unseen distance, unbounded by the thick stone that formed the kitchen’s wall not ten paces away.

Skald scooted in closer to the table. Placing his elbows on its surface, he leaned forward, resting his chin on clasped hands. ‘Riv?’ he said. And then once again, more loudly. ‘Riv? What’s got into you? You look as if you’ve seen some old hobgoblin, like the ones Gran tried to scare us with in her stories.’