1. From the Mists


    Date: 9/16/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: MissFrottage, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    The morning air was heavy and thick with mist. Tendrils of the morning fog wrapped its fingers around the trunks and branches of trees, engulfing the leaves in its mouth, pressing the rest of its massive body against the rippling waters of the fjord. There was nothing to be seen but gray. The world felt infinitely suspended. As if the Gods were playing with time. The birds in the trees remained still and silent knowing it was day by the lack of darkness, but lost in the hazy world that revealed nothing. The goats and chickens of the farm felt the same, only nestling into one another closer to know they were not alone. The only noise out of the stillness was the constant lapping of water along the smooth pebbles of the shore. She pulled the furs over her naked flesh and felt the emptiness in the bed beside her. Too long gone, she thought, and her eyes flashed open. Every morning since he left was the same, she felt him so deeply in her dreams only to awake to smoky darkness and loneliness. The shadows in the cabin crept all around her, the only light coming from the dim embers of the fire pit. The men had left when the sun and winds warmed your face. Now the air began to whistle of winter and the leaves of the trees were starting to frost their tips with gold and crimson. He had left to raid the newfound country called "England" some weeks before. Men who had made the journey told of it's rolling fertile hills, and endless hoards of gold and silver protected by weak men who ...
    surrounded themselves with papers and books. It was not his first raid or his first trip to the west. He had shown himself to be a great warrior in battle and earned deep scars across his broad, muscular back and chest as proof. Still, she thought, Gods willing, it would not be his last. He will come. She swung her legs over onto the hardened dirt floor and rose from her bed allowing the furs and blankets to slide across her skin to the ground, the sensation prickling the hairs at the base of her neck and allowing her collarbone to flush. She closed her eyes and let the feeling pass. He will come. The resolve straightened in her spine. Her gray eyes wide again, she found a basin of water in the dim light and splashed it against her face, letting the water trickle and trace patterns down her neck. She dressed quickly, suddenly feeling the gentle chill in the air. She lifted her long shift over her head and tightened the lacing across her chest, feeling the rough linen weave scratch against her skin. Her long apron was fastened with two large, handsome broaches and her long waves tied in a loose braid over her shoulder. She crossed to the door and opened the dark cabin to the world of gray. Some shafts of sunlight were beginning to make their way through the dense fog- giving a shimmer to the air. Barefoot, she made her daily pilgrimage to the water's edge to wait in the stillness for him to return. She could have made the journey to the shore blind. Her other senses provided a ...
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