Coming up with a plan was easy. Actually doing the deed was hard.
Reynir stood in front of him, just glad to be a part of the solution for whatever Lalli needed to do. As quietly as he could, he unsheathed his knife and hesitated. He was dead weight, and he was annoying, but he was still human. Half of his mind wanted to just do what needed to be done, but another part told him that he was no killer.
I’m not the one killing him, Lalli told himself. Hel is.
No, Lalli. Grandmother had walked up behind him without being noticed. Her brow was furrowed. Hel is a giver - she takes back what she has lent to us. Who are you to take from others?
Perhaps Hel works through me, Lalli argued. Grandmother seems to have no answer to this and turns to gaze at the trees. Deers galloped - trolls were nearby. If Lalli was to do it, he had to do it now.
His grip on knife tightened, and he walked behind Reynir, taking care not to step on a pine cone or a branch. His braid flew in the wind, and he could hear snatches of whistling from him, and his resolve failed for a moment. No. It’s either him or Emil, or gods forbid, Tuuri.
Reynir turned around, suddenly alert. “Lalli?”
The knife slid through his heart and he fell to his knees. He stared in shock at the blade protruding from his chest, and at Lalli. Hurt and confusion were present in his eyes, and Lalli looked away. Reynir tried to speak, but his punctured lungs wouldn’t let him. Crimson blood fell onto the fresh snow, and once more he looked at Lalli. And this time he couldn’t look away, and what he saw made him shiver.
Hate and confusion had departed. Only anger was left.
Reynir fell face-first into a puddle of his own blood, clearly dead. His braid brushed the ground aside his knees, as if reaching for Lalli. He stared at his bloody right hand, unable to believe that he had just killed Reynir.
No - It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. It was Hel.
He repeated this line like a mantra as he dragged the deer corpse over to the clearing and put a bullet in its head. Any time now, the rest of the team would be coming over. Sure enough, Tuuri was the first one here, and she looked at Reynir’s unmoving form and Lalli’s shell-shocked face.
“”Lalli? What happened?”
“A beast came through.” He gestured to the deer. “It bit Reynir before I could do anything, and I stabbed Reynir.” His voice was emotionless and uninflected, but deep down he felt like screaming.
Now Sigrun and Mikkel ran around and Tuuri started sobbing into her sleeve. Lalli didn’t touch her. Mikkel asked Tuuri what happened and she told them. Sigrun looked sombre and kicked the deer carcass away. She picked up the Icelander with both arms and shouted something to Mikkel and Emil, who was just arriving. They nodded and ran back to the tank.
Tuuri was still weeping, and Lalli stood up. He was shivering.
---
After burying Reynir, Sigrun was sitting next to Lalli. Everytime she looked at him, he felt like someone was gazing into his soul. Judging him. Damning him. At last, he muttered a muffled “good night” to the crying Tuuri and crawled under the bed.
He tossed and turned, but couldn’t get to sleep. After a while, he stood up and broke the frozen surface of the pond behind them. The knife went into the pond.
He slept restlessly.
---
In his dream, he was sitting in the raft, surrounded by water. It was the same place he spent his time every night, except it wasn’t. The trees seemed just a bit too dark, the gaps between the leaves a bit too small, the water a bit too restless. A lynx padded out between two trees, and Lalli reached for him. Without warning, he hissed and turned to flee. Lalli stared in shock, then in resignment.
He stood up and looked past the trees to where Reynir usually was. He wasn’t there, and neither was his dog. The sheep looked lost, and his crook was laid upon the rock that he sat on. Lalli swallowed and sat back down, looking at the canopy atop of him.
It wasn’t me, It was Hel.
He wished he could make himself believe it.
He was a killer.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, Reynir was standing in front of him, smiling. Although it looked genuine, it didn’t reach the eyes.
Lalli stood up and backed against the rock wall behind him.
“Reynir! Aren’t you - aren’t you -”
“Dead?”
Lalli nodded. His lips were dry and his fingers drummed nervously against stone.
“I don’t think I’m dead. At least, I don’t feel dead, and he certainly doesn’t seem dead.” He pointed at the dog with his crook, who was growling at Lalli. Was it his imagination, or did the dog seem bigger?
“Listen - Reynir. I didn’t want to do it. But Hel - you know who is Hel, right? - Hel always takes one soul to the underworld with her. But Emil and Tuuri can’t - die, right? And - Mikkel - is - well - the medic, and if Hel took his soul it would be bad for all of you, right? Right? - And Sigrun is the leader, so she can’t die either, right? Right?” As he talked, he was acutely aware of how their roles seemed reversed. Usually Reynir talked while Lalli listened, and now he talked while Reynir listened. The sheepdog growled at him, a deep throaty gurgle that sounded more like a wolf.
“So you killed me because one of us would die anyways?” Reynir’s eyes burned into him. Blood spilled out of the front of his chest and stained his tunic. The crook on his back twisted and snapped. As he spoke, a maggot crawled out of a decaying spot on his arm and down towards his hand. The dog’s teeth sharpened and its fur darkened until Lalli found himself looking at a full-grown grey wolf.
Lalli backed up until a sharp outgrowth of rock pushed against his back.
“No, Reynir, don’t - don’t do this.”
Reynir looked at him and grinned. His teeth were those of a wolf. He put one hand on Lalli’s chest and pushed. Lalli raised a fist and waited for the vines behind Reynir to do the same. Nothing happened, and he thought about the lynx running away from him with a sinking feeling. Reynir pushed him harder onto the rock and gritted his teeth. The wolf bit at his knee and a large chunk of meat came off in its mouth. Lalli screamed towards the sky. “Onni!”
Reynir looked up apprehensively, then with glee. “Looks like Onni’s not coming.” With his remaining hand, he pulled the crook over his shoulder and held it against Lalli’s ribs. With a grunt, he pulled it back and slammed it into his chest. Bones cracked and embedded themselves in fleshy organs, and Lalli slumped over. Reynir threw the crook down onto the floor and left, the wolf following.
After a few hours, Lalli hung there still.
After a few days, Lalli hung there still.
After a few years, Lalli hung there still.
After an eternity, Lalli hung there still.
---
He’s been sleeping for days now.
