#beocca

THE EARTH BEGAN TO SHIFT INWARDS AS AUTUMN DECENDED UPON THE LAND. The leaves transitioned from their deep greens to brilliant golden and red hues. The fur cloak around your shoulders kept you warm from the encroaching cold, your footsteps muffled by the dense heather beneath you as you scanned the forest floor for mushrooms. A woman on her birthing bed continued to lose blood even after the child was born, and you knew it was only a matter of time before she would pass. There was only one thing you knew that may save her life, and so Brünnhilde sent you out on your own to look for the small mushroom. Her aging eyes could no longer see the minute details of the flora and fauna of the forest, and eventually you took her place as the village healer. You returned just as the sun began its arc across the heavens, cheeks flushed with cold. Upon entering your home, you were met with an unknown and unexpected visitor.

"Is this the witch the people speak of?" the towering form of a warrior eyed you closely, his blond hair pulled back from his face. Bright eyes considered you for a moment before turning to your mother's hunched form.

"I am no witch." you took the cloak from your shoulders and brought the basket of mushrooms to Brünnhilde . Her wrinkled hands caught yours just for a moment before she went about cleaning them.

"That is not what the townsfolk say," the man mused.

"The townsfolk say lots of things," you turned to the hearth to stoke the fire, "what can we do for you?"

"I am Erik, and it is not what you can do for me, but for my brother Sigefrid."

You studied him, taking in the fine leathers he wore. "You are warriors?"

"Yes, Lady."

"I am not a Lady," you scoffed, "where is this brother then?"

"He did not feel so dignified coming here himself. He is just outside your village, at our camp. If you would do me the honor, Lady, of accompanying me to see him?"

"What ails him?"

"Many things, Lady. But mainly a mutilated hand."

You considered the warrior for a moment before turning to your adoptive mother. "Will you be alright while I am away?"

"I am not a child," she waved her hand dismissively, "I will be fine."

You nodded. "Let me collect my things. I will meet you outside."

~

"I heard tales of your power," Erik said, a small puff of vapor rising from his mouth in the cold, "your reputation precedes you."

You walked side by side through the dense forest, Erik holding your heavy pack over his shoulders as if it weighed nothing. You pulled your cloak close to your body and shielded your head with the hood. "I have no power, just knowledge."

"I believe they are one in the same."

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "That is a good belief to have."

"I agree, Lady."

"I am not a Lady, I told you this."

"Then what should I call you?"

"My name would suffice."

"Which is?"

You peered at him for another moment before telling him. He repeated it, as if testing the sound on his tongue. "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

The two of you walked in amicable silence until the boarder of his camp could be seen. You heard the unmistakable sound of male laughter, and a knot formed in your stomach. Erik turned as if sensing your hesitation and smiled. "You will not be harmed, I promise."

You did not take his promise to heart, especially when you felt the leering eyes of his men following your form across camp.

"He is just in there," Erik nodded to a tent in the middle of the camp and stood just outside its entrance, "Sigefrid, I have brought the healer!"

No response came. The large warrior sighed heavily before entering the tent, your pack of supplies swinging at his back. Taking a steadying breath, you nodded once to yourself before following inside while pulling the hood from your head. A naked woman laid sprawled upon the bed, furs falling to the floor. She smiled widely as her blue eyes landed on Erik, a pale hand running down the slope of her breasts, as if to entice him.

"Now is not the time. Leave us!" he dismissed her with a sharp shake of his head. The woman's eyes flashed with fear as she clumsily clambered out of bed and scooped up her dress. She paid little mind to you as she rushed from the tent.

"Come now, brother, I was just getting started." a deep voice called from the other side. In an instant another man entered from the back of the tent, naked as the day he was born. His dark hair was pulled back similarly to his brother's; dark brown eyes smudged with charcoal.

"Clothe yourself," Erik hissed, "we have a guest."

Sigefrid eyed you, a smirk etching itself onto his chiseled features. "This is the witch?"

"I am not a witch," you bit out, "just a healer."

"Well, 'just a healer', does my cock offend you?"

"Your cock is no concern of mine."

The dark-haired brother barked out a laugh.

"Just dress yourself, brother." Erik huffed in annoyance. "I am sorry for my brother's lack of manners. The road has made him crude."

"The road has nothing to do with my lack of manners, little brother." Sigefrid goaded as he dressed in a pair of worn leather pants. Once dressed, he sat on the edge of the bed, looking expectantly at you. "Well, healer, are you going to stand there or will you do what we summoned you to do?"

You narrowed your eyes before reaching for the medicine pack. Erik set it down gently on the fur rug. "I will be just outside. Let me know if you require anything else." with a curt nod to you, he disappeared.

"I will not bite, healer, unless you want me to." the elder brother chuckled darkly, eyes pinned on you. You paid him no mind as you took out your supplies, aligning the ceramic jars of salves and herbs in order of importance. Kneeling before him, you took a deep breath and steadied your mind.

"Let me see the wound." you held out our hand in question. It was wrapped in bloodied cloth and tied loosely with a leather strap. With careful hands you unbandaged the wound. "When did this happen?"

"Little more than a month ago," he replied heavily, "bastard cut it off with an axe. My brother said you are a powerful healer, told me stories of you healing the unhealable. If this is all true, can you give me my hand back?"

You took another deep breath, your eyes softening the slightest bit. "Once a limb is parted from the body like this, there is no putting it back together, I am sorry. I can help make it look less...mangled... and help ensure that it does not rot."

He was silent for a moment, mourning the loss of possibility. "I see."

You held his gaze for a moment before examining the wound closely. It was a clean cut, thank the gods. The flesh was scarred, the skin still a mixture of angry red and burnt flesh.

"You burned the wound once it happened?"

"Yes."

"Good," you nodded once, reaching for your jar of vinegar, "that should help stave off pus and rot."

"What is that for?" he began to reach for the jar, his large and calloused hand nearly brushing your own.

"To clean the wound," you moved it out of his reach, "this may hurt. Prepare yourself."

He did not make a sound as you cleaned the wound and gently inspected the flayed flesh. Quietly you worked, your brows furrowed in concentration. His eyes never left your form as you moved and grabbed different herbs and jars. He was impressed, even just for a moment, that you did not shudder under his gaze. Every woman he met squirmed under the weight of it, and yet, you seemed to not be phased in the slightest.

"You are not afraid of me," he mused, "most are."

"Do I need to be?" you peered up at him through your lashes before settling your gaze on your satchel. From it you pulled the bone needle and thin threads of freshly spun cotton.

"Most are," he repeated, "both men and women alike."

You hummed in response. "That says more about your character than those you frighten."

Sigefrid chuckled. "I suppose."

Again he did not make a sound as you sewed up the pieces of loose flesh, trying your best to make it as uniform as possible.

"You do not ask me why or how it happened."

The corner of your mouth twitched. "It is not my place to ask."

"Is it not? Most people want to ask it of me; I see it plainly on their faces. They do not get the privilege of asking, but as a healer, surely you feel the right to know?"

"It is not my right to ask," you replied lightly, nearing the end of the suture, "it is only your right to tell those you feel should know. I do not make it a habit of asking those who are in need of healing if they deserve it or not. There is enough blood and death in this world."

"Not everyone deserves to be healed. There are those who walk amongst us who only deserve death."

"Like the man who took your hand?"

Sigefrid's mouth pulled into a smirk. "Him most of all."

"As I said, there is too much death in this world. I shall heal who I can."

"So, you would heal a raper, or a murderer?"

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. "No-"

"Then, healer, you do not think everyone should be healed."

"It is more complicated than that. If I knew someone caused harm upon another person, then no, I would turn them away. But I will do what I can for those who need it most."

"And you think I am deserving of healing?"

With a final pull you completed the last stich, cutting the end of the cotton thread with a small knife. You stood from your position, knees aching in protest. "Do you think you are not?"

Sigefrid's smirk died at your words. He said nothing as he examined your work. The bits of flesh that hung off were now one complete piece. It was not a thing of beauty to be sure, but it made him feel slightly more whole than he had in days.

"You are quite skilled," he stood from the bed, further inspecting the wound in the nearby candlelight.

"Yes."

He turned to face you then, dark eyes brewing with indecipherable emotion. "My brother has your payment. You may leave."

Once outside the tent you relished in the feeling of the cool fresh air. Erik was by your side in a matter of seconds, bright eyes swimming with intrigue. "Is my brother well?"

"Yes, he is fine. I cleaned the wound and managed as best I could to make the flesh whole. It will be tender for a time, and it is important to keep the stiches clean of any dirt and blood. The pain he feels should also go away with time."

"You have my sincerest thanks," Erik bowed his head in gratitude, "I shall collect your payment at once." he left your side for a moment before returning with coin. He placed it gently in your palm. "Come, I shall escort you back to your home."

~

Sigefrid could not tear his gaze from his missing hand, too entranced at watching the light of the fire dancing on the nearly translucent stitching. His stump glistened with the salves you left behind, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel your gentle touch. He wondered how cruel the gods could be to send him such a woman, who could look at scarred and ruined flesh and not balk, who was not his. It was even more cruel that she be hidden from the world, her skills being wasted on menial things like bee stings and farm accidents.

"Is it painful, brother?"

The elder Northman glanced at his younger sibling; his mouth pulled into a thin line. "Not at the moment."

"Then what is troubling you? Should you not be happy pain no longer grips you?"

"She could not grow my hand back, and yet, she healed it."

Erik's eyebrows furrowed. "I do not understand your meaning."

Sigefrid huffed. "That healer turned my mangled flesh into something whole again."

"And this upsets you?"

"No, brother, it does not upset me."

"I am lost."

"It is just, would it not be wise for us to have a healer such as she in our ranks? If she could perform such a miraculous act as this, what other acts of service could she provide?"

"So, this is about your desire to hump her?" Erik grinned.

"It is not about that," Sigefrid shook his head, "well, not entirely. Think about it, brother. How many of our men could be saved while injured in battle? Think of how our numbers would swell if men knew that we had such a renown healer amongst us?"

"It would bolster an advantage to be sure. What do you suggest? I have my doubts that she would come with us of her own accord."

"Who said anything about giving her a choice?" Sigefird's eyes darkened. "She is ours for the taking, brother. We just need to decide when."