Delivering Kadlin Read Online Free PDF Page B

gathered the doe by the feet and followed. Kadlin trailed behind. The old woman laid the knife on a long wooden table then turned to set a caldron over the fire burning in an outdoor hearth.
    She looked at Kadlin. “Are you his woman?” she asked.
    “She is,” said Bjorn.
    “I was asking her, Viking. Well, are you his woman?”
    Kadlin didn’t pause. “I am. My name is Kadlin.”
    The old woman nodded. “And I am Grima.”
    Bjorn bent over the doe and without turning to look at him, the old woman spoke, “Mind the hide, Viking. I have use for it.”
    Bjorn worked carefully separating the deer’s skin from its flesh. The woman took the skin from Bjorn and laid it over a long, smooth log on the ground, fur side down. Kadlin shifted awkwardly, not knowing what to do.
    The old woman reached into a large pouch tied onto the belt at her waist and pulled out a flint. She passed it to Kadlin. “Scrape it clean, girl. My knees are not what they used to be. I can get to the ground just fine. It’s getting back up that’s becoming a challenge. It’s a good thing I don’t run with those Christians, eh, Viking?”
    Bjorn chuckled then severed the deer’s head with a smooth swipe of his blade. He brought down the knife again and split the skull down the center then carried halves to the caldron, which now bubbled over the fire. With his small dagger, he pried out the brains and plopped them into the boiling water.
    Kadlin knelt beside the skin and dragged the sharp stone over the surface, gathering the bits of flesh and fat in a pile near her knee. She worked quickly and carefully, having scraped many hides. When she finished, she folded the skin in on itself and carried it to the large timber frame she’d noticed at the edge of the clearing. Bjorn joined her, and while the brain boiled into tanning fluid, he made small slits around the edge of the hide and helped her stretch it in the frame with long leather cords.
    “Come lift the pot, Viking,” the woman called.
    Bjorn pulled the caldron from the hearth, using a scrap of leather to keep from burning his hands, set it down in front of the stretcher then returned to the butchering table. The woman wordlessly passed Kadlin a hand mop fashioned from a stick with rags tied to one end. Kadlin soaked the mop in the brain and water mixture and rubbed it into the hide. She knew that the liquid, and the smoking to follow, would make the skin soft and pliable.
    Grima took a slab of meat from Bjorn and set it over the fire to roast. The two worked in silent harmony, and Kadlin wondered at their connection.
    * * * *
    The three dined at a rough-hewn table in the shadow of the cottage. After they had eaten their fill of roasted venison and root vegetables, Bjorn stood and held out his hand. Kadlin laid her fingers in his and let him lead her from the yard onto a narrow, winding path into the forest.
    They walked wordlessly for nearly a half hour before the dense foliage opened onto a huge, perfectly round clearing. At the center of the circle was an enormous weeping willow, its wispy branches creating a verdant skirt that brushed the ground. Bjorn drew back the curtain of leaves and led Kadlin inside.
    She gasped at the size of the secret room. The living walls soared high above their heads and gave the space an eerie green glow. Close to the ground, the massive trunk split off into three arms, creating a rough throne.
    “This is where Grima found me,” Bjorn said. “I was near death, wounded in a battle I can’t remember. I don’t know who I was fighting for or what I was fighting against.”
    A thousand questions sprang to Kadlin’s mind, but she held her tongue and listened.
    “She made a litter of birch branches and had her old horse drag me back to the cottage. Every step jolted me, and I roared at the pain. Grima said I sounded like a bear in a beehive, and so she gave me my name. All summer, she fed me and tended to my wounds. When I was strong enough, I worked to repay