She is coming
I remember it. I remember the day it all started and ended. All because of this young girl. She was no older than I was. The day was bright, sunny, and warm. I was running in the meadow. The yellow grass so high it hit me on the knees. My mother and father were watching, how much I enjoyed the freedom.
The short time of freedom that I had before I met her, she was standing in front of me. Her eyes green, soft, and big. Just like the nature that I love. Her hair long and brown, but the light made me see that she had tiny hints of blond in it, just like my hair is. She was staring at me softly, friendly. I had never seen her before, and I knew she was not from my village. I would have known if not.
While she was stealing my attention, the sound of my father screaming in pain came behind me. I could see the arrow in his chest, right where his heart was beating. I watch his eyes roll back. Not long after, my mother came running towards me. There was nothing more I wanted, then to be in her arms at that time, but I was young, and frozen in fear. I couldn’t move, and it earned me the most significant punishment I could have ever gotten.
I lost both of my parents that day, but for others, they lost their king and queen. Only because of that girl, that was our diversion. When I turned back to look at her, she still stood there, looking at me the same way. As if nothing happened, as if she couldn’t feel anything. There was no regret, no nothing. I was seven years old at that time, and I know she was too. I was crying in agony while she was emotionless.
I ran back home, into my older brother’s arms, and I could see the fire in his blue eyes. I could see that he was seeking vengeance. He tried so many times but failed. Three years later, we got attacked again, but this was a war. My brother, the new king, was not going to give in. He was a great speaker, and he motivated men and women to fight for their homes.
I watched them all bleed and listened to them all die. I was seven when my parents died, and I was ten when my older brother died. Those who didn’t fight were running away, like my younger brother and I did. We found a new place to live, but it’s not our home. There were only four-thousand survivors when we left, but now eight years later, our number has risen to five thousand, but most are children and weak humans. People who cannot take another battle, but I know it’s coming one day. We want our home back, which we lost to our foes. It is now called South, that was our name. We lost that after we fled to East to our friends.
My people are impatient to take it back, and I can feel with them. There is nothing I want more, then going back to what my family had built with glory and pride. Which died with them, but I am going to develop it again. They might have won the battle, but we are going to win the war because this is not over. It never was.
Time is what it will take, and time is what we have to do now because soon they will find us. We need to act unaffected and take one piece and not everything at once. If we move too big and too much, they will know we are still fighting for what is ours. Our minds are full of freedom, and freedom is what we will get in the end. No matter how much we have to scarify for it. Blood lives and love will be lost.
We have lived with nothing for eight years, but we have adapted. We had to, just like our family, had too after world war three that ended hundreds of years ago. When the whole world fell to pieces, there is nothing left, expect ruins that have now grown with nature. Nature is all we have left and all that we know.
We can still see the ruins of the cities, buildings, and sculptures, but most are underground — some covered with desert and some in the woods, where we are living. There is nothing left, but that is what we are used to now. For hundreds of years, humans have fought for land and survival. We still do, and that is going to last forever.
“Princess Freya?” I turn around, still standing with my hands behind back. I watch my guardian, Eric. He has been loyal to me since the day we escaped the battle. His strength and tallness make him the most feared man in our tribe.
He might look like he could kill you with his bare hands, but the loss of his family has turned his whole heart into sadness and to calmness. Fighting reminds him of his loss. That is why he only gives order and protect me, but if I tell him to join a mission, he will not hesitate to follow my wish. Eric was my father’s best friend, and I know he promised him to take care of my brothers and me if he died, which he has done well. My father would be proud of Eric because I am.
“Yes, captain?” I answer him with respect, which causes him to bow.
“Your brother wishes to talk to you,” Eric says, causing me to take a deep breath.
“Very well.” I nod, and he walks out of my tent. My brother has begged me every day to do something since I could remember. He is just like his older brother Gustav, who died with fury in his heart. Magnus wants a battle, something I can’t accept. Not now.
“Freya.” I hear my brother say breathlessly, behind me, but I still find my way over to my throne. I sit down, watching my little brother. He has the same blond hair like me, but shorter, and it looks dirty today. As well is his leather clothes and shoes. It causes suspicion to flow through my veins as I chew on my inner cheek.
“Magnus,” I say, waiting for him to tell me what he wants, and I hope that is going to explain why it looks like he just took a mud bath.
“We need to act now!” He shouts. My eyes roll like I always do when he opens his mouth to talk.
“There is nothing we can do, not now,” I tell me him and trust me, I have said that many times before.
“We have to!” He yells and steps forward, causing me to stand up with fury. We look into each other eyes. Our father’s blue eyes that we both have.
“Their leader died of illness just recently, and their new ruler is ruthless.” He explains, which causes me to breathe again.
“We saw them Freya. They killed the innocent people in the West.” Magnus tells me, and I lean my head back in sorrow and shock. The people in the West have always been neutral. They lived in peace and didn’t do anyone any harm. We had a good deal with them. They made us our clothes, and we gave them weapons to defend themselves, which was not enough. It changes everything.
“How do you know this?” I ask, gritting my teeth with hatred for the South that is killing everything and anyone, just for getting more land for themselves.
“I saw it.” He says, watching me tensely.
“You did what?” I shout almost in his face.
“Magnus, you are only sixteen; you are not supposed to go outside our walls, and you know that!” I yell in anger because he knows the age limit for walking outside alone is eighteen. We did that for safety for the children. There can be anyone in this forest, and we made walls to protect ourselves from humans and animals.
“I know, but I am so tired of you not doing anything, and now we know what is happening out there!” He defends himself.
“I am doing something!” I argue, poking my finger on his collarbone and feeling how wet and dirty his clothes are.
“Doing what? Waiting to die?” He wonders, and I can’t keep myself calm anymore as I push him back away from me.
“We are waiting for more warriors!” I explain to him, but he shakes his head.
“Well, we do not have time for that anymore. She is coming.” My brother tells me.
“She?” I wonder.
“Loki is coming.”