Heart of the Waterfall

Yolanda and I followed the white harts through haunted, sicksleep glens, dales, and fjords. The birches moved like alfar, the ghosts of the light elves dancing. My pale Isa flesh was frozen to a dull green verdigris, like a copper pot left out in the rain. Yolanda and I walked hand in hand, guarding each other with her broadsword and my Isa dagger out, treacherous steps on autumnal frozen fall leaves crunching to release the spice of pine and wet soil.

Yolanda hissed to the shadows, then her teeth chattered, her golden brown skin frosted to a light grimy blue. Freezing to death, after Jord’s heart.

I watched the quicksilver white harts loose like darts in a tavern through the wends of woods. Their albino fur and gleaming red blue eyes reminded me of the prophesized god Lussi, who would overturn Eleleth. But that was such a tall tale, I could never imagine anyone but the might of Wotan overtoppling Eleleth’s reign!

“Yolanda?” I gently aske