An hour later, the four plodded on through the snow-covered mountain path, Unnvaldr struggling to drag the bear carcass behind them. The stallion's nostrils flared as he huffed and snorted with exertion. Baldur sat tall in the saddle, a look of smug satisfaction on his face, as if this whole ordeal was a mere trifle for a young man.
Gyda rode beside him on Hvíta, her white mare stepping lightly through the snow. She glanced at Baldur, her expression a mix of irritation and amusement. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she said, nodding toward Unnvaldr's labored breathing. "Making the poor horse drag that beast all the way home."
Baldur grinned, his golden eye glinting in the sunlight. "Of course I am. It's not every day you get to kill a big, bloody bear."
"Didn't father say that he killed a bear and an enormous hound when he went to confess his love for our mother hand, that guarded her home as a test for him?"
"Well, I killed a bear for you. There are no hounds here, but a dear will have to do, little sister."
"Will you accept my love for you?"
Gyda rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk and happiness in her heart. "You're impossible. And your arm is still bleeding through the bandage."
Baldur glanced at the makeshift wrapping Gyda had tied around his wound. "Told you, it's nothing. I'll be healed by the time we get home."
Gyda sighed, shaking her head. "You're lucky I was there to distract that bear, or you'd be missing more than just a scratch."
Baldur chuckled. Unnvaldr moved closer to her as he reached over to squeeze her thigh. "Oh, I'm always lucky when you're around, sister."
Gyda's cheeks flushed, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch for a moment before straightening up. "Flatterer."
"Come now, Unnvaldr," Baldur called to his struggling horse, "it could be worse. At least there aren't any frost giants or wolf packs suddenly appearing to contend with... well, even if there are, I would be the one fighting them!"
"And that would be better than a hound," he smirked to Gyda.
Unnvaldr responded with another disdainful snort, clearly unimpressed with his rider's boasting.
Gyda laughed softly, her breath visible in the cold air. "You're insufferable. But I suppose that's why I love you."
Baldur's grin widened. "Damn right."
As they moved along a path with a few dense trees and bushes obscuring their view, Baldur suddenly tensed. His right hand moved instinctively toward the handle of his sword, and his left hand reached for where his shield should have been. Frustration flashed across his face as he remembered it was gone, destroyed in the fight with the bear.
Gyda noticed his shift in posture and immediately nocked an arrow, her eyes scanning the trees. "What is it?"
Before Baldur could answer, three men emerged from between the trees, their breath ragged, their eyes hungry. They wore patched linen and leather vests, their hands gripping axes that glinted dully in the light. The leader, a gaunt man with a face like a hatchet, stepped forward, blocking their path. His companions fanned out, flanking them like wolves circling prey.
Gyda's grip on her bow tightened, her fingers steady despite the tension.
The leader's gaze flicked over Baldur's gear—the sword at his saddle, the bow, the quiver bristling with arrows. Then his eyes landed on Gyda, and a slow, predatory grin spread across his face. "Well, well," he sneered, "look what Freyja dragged in. A boy and a pretty little lamb, all alone in the woods."
One of the other bandits, a hulking brute with a broken nose, licked his lips as he eyed Gyda up and down. "Aye, and a fine piece of meat she is. We could have some fun with her before we take the rest."
Gyda's expression darkened, but she didn't flinch. She kept her arrow trained on the leader, her voice cold. "You'd do well to watch your tongue, worm."
The leader chuckled, ignoring her. "Hand over the horse, the weapons, the beasts. And that pretty sword. Might as well save us the trouble of cutting your throat for it, boy."
Baldur didn't move. He sat atop Unnvaldr, still as a statue, his gaze drifting over the three men like they were insects beneath his boot. Then he laughed—a sharp, mocking sound that cut through the silence. "This is bloody funny. Since when did we start getting wandering fools around here performing in the middle of the road?"
"Leave," he said, voice low and edged with something darker than threat. "Now. Before I forget how to be merciful."
The leader's smirk faltered for half a breath—then twisted into a sneer. "A fool? Merciful?" His eyes flicked to Gyda again, lingering on her curves. "Look at you, boy. Dragging a bear you didn't kill, and your arm's wrapped up like a babe's. You think that sword makes you a man?"
The brute with the broken nose took a step forward, his gaze locked on Gyda. "C'mon, girl. Don't make this hard on yourself. We'll treat you real nice before we're done with you."
Gyda's fingers twitched on her bowstring, her voice low and deadly. "Try it, and I'll send an arrow through your throat before you can blink."
The leader spat into the snow. "Get down from the horse, boy. We'll take everything you have off your corpse if we have to, and then enjoy the woman before your companions arrive."
The brute with the broken nose took another step forward, reaching for Unnvaldr's reins.
Baldur sighed again, but this time, there was no humor in it. In one fluid motion, he swung his leg over the saddle and dropped to the snow. The leader's grin widened—he surrendered—but then Baldur's hand flashed to the sword at his horse's side. Steel sang as it left the scabbard, a silver arc in the dim light.
The brute's laughter died in his throat as the sword found his neck first. A clean, horizontal slash—no hesitation, no flourish. Blood sprayed in a crimson fan, painting Baldur's face red as the man's head toppled from his shoulders, his body crumpling like a marionette with cut strings.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, from the trees, an arrow whistled toward Baldur, having already anticipated that, Baldur used the corpse of the brute as a meat shield, tanking an arrow directed at him.
Gyda had already seen the movement—a fourth bandit, an archer with a crude bow, had been hiding in the brush. She twisted in her saddle and loosed her arrow in one smooth motion. It struck the archer in the throat, dropping him before he could fire again.
The remaining two bandits froze for a heartbeat. Then, with roars of fury, they charged. Axes swung wild and heavy, but Baldur moved with contemptuous ease. He parried the first strike, his boot lashing out to catch the leader in the chest. The man flew backward, landing hard in the snow. The second bandit's axe came at Baldur's side—he twisted, his sword flashing up to meet it. There was a screech of metal against metal, then Baldur drove the blade home, straight through the man's ribs and into his heart.
The leader scrambled backward, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "W-wait—!" he stammered, hands raised. "I yield! Mercy—!"
Baldur looked at him. Really looked at him. The man was pathetic. A worm squirming in the dirt.
"I told you to leave," Baldur said, his voice calm, almost conversational. "Now it's too late."
He didn't bother with the sword. Instead, he stooped, picked up one of the fallen axes, and hurled it. The blade spun end over end before burying itself in the leader's skull with a wet crunch. The man's body jerked once, then stilled, his brains painting the snow in chunks of red and gray.
Baldur sighed as he looked around at the carnage. "What now, huh? What more would suddenly appear today? Feels like Loki's got a personal mission to tickle my goddamn balls today."
Gyda dismounted from Hvíta, her bow still drawn as she scanned the trees for any more threats. She turned to Baldur, her expression a mix of adrenaline and concern. "You're bleeding again."
Baldur glanced at his arm, where the bandage was now soaked through. "Well, it would heal again in no time."
Gyda rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Instead, she stepped closer, her voice low. "You fight like a madman."
Baldur grinned, pulling her against him. "And you shoot like a goddess."
Gyda's lips curled into a smirk as she pressed against him, her hand sliding down to grip his thigh. "Don't forget it."
Baldur chuckled, his breath warm against her ear. "How could I?" He leaned in, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss, his hands roaming over her body possessively. When they finally broke apart, Gyda's cheeks were flushed, her breath coming faster.
She pushed him away playfully, though her eyes still burned with intensity. "We should get moving. Before more trouble finds us."
Baldur smirked, mounting Unnvaldr with ease. "Where's the fun in that?"
"Hey, can these three worms count as an enormous hound?"
Gyda shook her head. "You're impossible."
Baldur grinned. "I think they do."
Gyda didn't deny it.