WELCOME ON BOARD

Author: @claireen

Fandoms: The Brotherband Chronicles, Ranger's Apprentice

Summary: Those times when the Skandian national hockey team ran the world are long gone. But Erak, who used to be the captain of the unstoppable dream team and now is the coach of the juniors, feels like there is hope on the horizon, or more specifically, in the junior dressing room. He just needs to stop the young players from killing each other until the end of the championships, and explain to them that hockey is a team sport for a reason.

But maybe, the solution for his problem may be easier to find than he initially thought. And maybe, it has a shape of a kid who was dragged into the team by one of his old teammates.

or me, thinking putting herons, sharks and wolves into one hockey team was a good idea

The Heron’s height chart! Now that I’ve finished all of them! (If you have any questions on why I made some of them the height I did I do have some justifications for some of them)

"I'll shoot anyone who is going to come from around that corner."

"Uh.."

"Seriously? Do you think now it's the time to question me?"

Then the men get restless. The shipyards start buzzing, wood, and ropes creaking, sailors laughing. Plans are being made and dreams will be chased. The sea is calling.

Then the snow starts to melt. It melts so quickly that a stream forms in the middle of the main street, to the delight of children and the despair of mothers. It only lasts a couple of days, but the kids come home every day soaked, with smiles on their faces.

Then the birds come. She hears them first, but then she looks out of the window while making lunch one day, and a tired-looking skylark is sitting on the pile of firewood. She smiles at it, suddenly feeling uneasy. Her son passes under the window and the skylark flies away.

The birch tree behind her house has long since turned yellow, the days have grown shorter, and the air has turned cold. Just a month ago, her eating house was full of sailors from the south and messengers from the other side of the mountains. Now, it's mostly empty. Not for long, she knows. Because the wind grows bolder. Just as it stirs something in sailors' souls in the spring, it awakens something in hers every autumn. And she is not alone.

Every morning, at dawn, women begin to gather at the harbour, on the main pier, looking at the horizon. Without notice, without an arrangement. At first, they greet loudly, smiling, sharing short stories before returning to their work. But with the wind picking up and the growing number of ships docking in the harbour, the group gets smaller. Greetings are quieter, smiles tighter, and looks more pleading.

Once again, her eating house fills up every evening, all tables occupied, except the one right next to the fireplace. That one stays religiously empty. Someone may steal a chair or two from there, but no one dares to sit on the bench that's pushed up against the wall or put their drink on that table. She never shooed anyone from there, and during summer, the table has seen various groups of guests. Now, on the edge of winter, it's waiting for just one.

It's getting late, both in the day and in the year, when someone runs to her door. It's Anja's youngest, his cheeks red, eyes wide. And she knows, the Heron has flown back to Hallasholm.