We danced in reverie at the coming storm. Our bodies flailing against the wind, freedom hushed over the pasture as we paraded around the fire. A gift from the gods, our pain released as the sky opened, washing every blemish we held away.
A crowd formed as the Völva spoke divine words held in time’s hourglass. The moon’s glow reflected off her painted face as Thunor stormed across the sky, promising to replenish the land for next year’s harvest.
We paid homage. In prayer we stood, holding hands, as the ancestors and gods once again carried us through another year.
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