The Eight Days of the Week (3)
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Soft light from a small clay lamp filled the interior of Idun’s hut.

Outside, her eyes level with the windowsill, crouching down into a knott, Freya looked in.

There was not much to see, though. A large table covered in herbs, flowers, branches and jars. A small bed in one corner offered a sumptuous rest to a large, fluffy cat. A fireplace, small and at the moment occupied by a large boiling cauldron, filled the room with dancing shadows.

Freya’s eyes moved left and right. The goddess of love was not a patient woman, and the dusk of the hut didn’t help her quest. Where had Idun gone?

She stood up. Envy still in charge had told her, crouching was beneath her stature.

Movement at the back brought Freya the answer she seek. At the very back of the...

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