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Chapter 41

Indra sighs heavily. The rain pours down over the barely visual dusk covered deep valley. Most of yesterday and almost all of this day they have been searching for the three demon horses across the vast open spaces. Indra has always been proud of her ability to catch wild horses in Asgard. With her sharp mind and great sense of hearing, she has been one of the best at tracking the beautiful wild horses. No wild horse ever escapes her, even in the thickest fog. Tonight, there is no fog, but the dark and persistent rain disrupts their repeated attempts to outsmart the demon horses.

Something's moving at the edge of Indra's peripheral view. She casts a quick glance to her side, and there basking in the faint moonlight, stands Laurin as a motionless Greek statue. He's wearing a pair of loose-fitting pants that clings to his wet legs, his muscular torso is bare and glistens in the dull light. He is barefoot and ankle deep in mud, his body language shows his frustration at today's

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