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After the birth of her seventh child, Brigid marched out to the tanning shed and demanded Sven build more room. Angry, he had been distracted from a new pelt, Sven started yelling at his wife, screaming about the placement of the trees which surrounded the Severance house and how expansion wasn’t possible.

Sven turned back to the skin hanging in front of him, pretending to ignore his wife’s protests, when he felt Brigid’s cheek on the nape of his neck. Clasping her hands, she reached around and began pressing deep into her husband’s forehead, feeling his skull bones ache and strain, marveling at the strength in his veins  as they pushed back and tried to squirm out against the pressure.  Sven started to struggle, but  soon realized that whatever his wife was doing to his head had caused the skinning knife in his hand to melt. She was chanting…

Children. You must haunt these trees to keep them, but take care. For the living abides with thee. On your borders, they surround the dying legacy, a sacrifice to a sapling’s history. Hold fast to ancient roots with newborn ghosts, carve markers at your mothers’ heads. Remind the dead! Remind the dead!  Bellering! Out from your circle, to feed the fabled souls, and warm your fathers’ feet, long past winter’s bones. Beware! If they should see your strings. Beware! If they should come to count your rings. Beware! Of demons should they be real. Beware! Dames brow and sires heel…….