"Let's make a deal… Father."
Sigurd's father looked at him with apprehension, sensing it was one of his usual tricks to talk his way out of things.
"A deal? There will be no deal! I'm taking you back!"
His words only angered Sigurd. He balled his hands into fists, his eyes now bloodshot.
"Why the hell are you so obsessed with me? You have 17 other children who practically throw themselves at you!"
"Six of them are already dead."
"That's not my problem."
Sigurd's father was now fuming with rage. If he didn't control himself, he feared he would stomp the life out of him.
"They were your brothers and sisters! How could you say something like that?!"
"Family doesn't mean squat to me," Sigurd said, looking his father dead in the eyes.
"Even your mother—she was left in tears."
"She's always in tears. Plus, she told me to go; she wanted me to be safe or whatever."
"A real man would've brought her with him. What you did was cowardly."
"Then why not just leave me alone, since I'm so cowardly?"
Sigurd's father, Varkari, without answering his questions, just stared at him with a disappointed look on his face. He then pulled out a rope and proceeded to tie him up. After that, he hoisted him onto the back of the dire wolf and walked beside them.
"As the village chief, it's my responsibility to protect my people. If my own son can't lead by example, then it means I fail. Even if you must die, so be it. I will weep for you, like a good father should."
"I'm not dying for anybody. I'm no one's hero," Sigurd mumbled.
For the remainder of their journey, they traveled in silence.
As Sigurd arrived in the village, traveling on the back of the dire wolf, onlookers gathered to stare and whisper about him. Their gazes were far from pleasing. They gossiped about how much of a coward he was.
Some of the more brazen men even implied that the chief should just execute him to set an example. After all, he was his son, and every time Sigurd did something to earn their disapproval, it reflected poorly on Varkari.
"It's all because of his mother; she spoils him rotten."
Now they were shifting the blame onto his mother.
"None of his other children behave like this."
A lot of the time, Sigurd and his mother were the talk of the town. The chief had children with more than ten women, so he wasn't tied to just one woman—until recently. He married a woman who mothered four of his children.
Sigurd was the only child between the chief and his mother. He was the 11th child of the chief, making him 15 years old.
Hearing the commotion, Sigurd's mother rushed out. She showed no apprehension at all when approaching the dire wolf.
"My baby! What happened to you?" she said as she wiped the blood from his broken nose. She also noted the bite mark on his arm from the dire wolf. Her gaze turned coldly to Varkari.
"What did you do to him? How could you?!"
"You were the one who allowed him to run away. This is punishment for his actions."
Slap!
She slapped him across the face, which caught the attention of the entire village. Everything came to a standstill as the chief clutched his burning red cheek.
Sigurd let out a chuckle and then began giggling hysterically.
"Serves you right, asshole!"
His mother's familiar, a giant white owl with black eyes, sensed the tension and rushed to her side, keeping wary of the dire wolf, which was now showing its fangs.
"Freya, you can't keep treating him like a child. He broke our rule and ran away. I'm being lenient by giving him a chance to redeem himself."
"By sending him off to die?!"
"It's the only way to save our village, and Sigurd isn't the only one. There will be others there with him."
"I don't care about that. I don't care what others decide to do with their kids! Why can't you just leave him alone? Let him be happy!"
Varkari reached his limit; to him, the both of them weren't worth reasoning with.
"Well, you should care! Others are out there dying, and your son is out there lazing around! He's done nothing to help the village—nothing! He doesn't have a choice in this, and neither do you!"
Freya blocked his path with the giant owl on her shoulder.
"I won't let you take him."
"So be it," Varkari said pinching his nose bridge in frustration, "Cuff her—"
"Wait!" Sigurd shouted. Surprised by his own outburst. He turned his attention to his mother—the mother who was trying so desperately to save him. He knew he couldn't let his own mother be chained up like an animal. The other villagers would love to see it and that pissed him off more. "I'll be fine, Mother, I promise. I'll come back to you."
"Oh, Sigurd… I can't. I know what awaits you out there. I just can't let you go."
He could sense his mother's distress; he knew there was only one thing that could soothe her. He gestured for her to come closer, then rested his forehead against hers.
"Through this bond, we should be as one."
When two people touched their heads together and activated the Shamanic Bond, a strange phenomenon occurred: the two became one, reading each other's thoughts and emotions for just a split second. It allowed them to feel what each other is feeling thy become almost in sync
Freya rubbed her hands through her son's silky black hair, then took off her prized necklace—a gift she always held close to her heart—and placed it around her son's neck, tears flowing down her face as she did.
The necklace was silver and carved out in the shape of a cat. For as long as he knew her, his mother always wore it around her neck.
After they said their goodbyes, he was carried away on top of the dire wolf. He was brought to his peers, where they would undergo a challenge that would determine whether they lived or died.