Asvi Frostbeard leaned her head back against the old oak she now called home and gazed through the dancing leaves above. She thought not for the first time of Khaz'a'Dentrumm and the people she had left behind on her journey, so many of them. A kind red-headed Grandaxe bloomed to mind, who had always smiled at her like she hung the stars. Thinking about what had been was painful, and what could have been, more so.
Drawing a hand over the sleeping squirrel on her lap, a denizen of Hefrumm she had stolen away with, she wondered where Bjorn was now. She pictured with blurred memory his cottage, still adorned with scars of her axe, and a warm hearth. There were new shapes moving about. Children, the wife he deserved. The little ones had his fervent hair, smiles the same ferocity as his as they proudly showed their catches.
Or maybe the coals had gone cold. Perhaps years ago, perhaps even today.
She shook her head, stilled a shaking hand which had stirred the now-chittering squirrel in it's restlessness, and willed with a deep breath that those memories unwind their thorns.
Hope bloomed in their stead, that wherever Bjorn was now, he had found happiness.