Mormor turns her back to me and squares up to the creature.

‘Mormor, no! Please, you have to go back to the underworld!’

She glances over her shoulder. ‘I will never leave you, child.’

‘For me, Mormor. Please. I can’t hold the cord much longer!’

The caw of a raven sounds from above.

‘I have Odin’s ravens with me. I’m not alone. You can leave me. You must!’

Mormor steps towards the draugr. The creature tilts its head back and a strange bark issues from its mouth. It’s laughing.

I call to Mormor, ‘Go to the underworld and we can be together one day!’ My voice breaks with emotion. ‘Please, Mormor. Or I’ll never see you again.’

Mormor stands firm. If she isn’t going to move, I’ll have to make her.

I throw the rope towards her. It latches onto her wrist then snakes around her middle, grasping her in its coil. I mouth, I’m sorry, and then she’s gone, pulled with the cord into the tree. My chest aches with longing as I stare after her.

Seeing her, even for a brief moment, gives me courage. I grip the axe as the draugr circles around me. It paces slowly to the right, its yellow eyes never leaving my face. Then grunts and snorts, coming closer and backing away. Testing me. Playing with me.

It rushes to the left, and I spin around and lift the axe … but it’s too fast. Its body slams into me and knocks me to the ground. Pain rips through my right shoulder. I cry out and gasp for breath.

The axe!

I lurch for it, but the draugr steps on the handle, pushing it into the snow. Desperate, I search the ground for a fallen branch, anything.

One of the ravens flies close to my head and caws, ‘Naudiz!’

I reach for my valknut charm and panic when I realise it’s not there.

‘Naudiz!’ I yell the word, but nothing happens.

A clawed hand grabs my wrist and a harsh, guttural sound rasps from the creature’s mouth. I don’t understand the words it spits at me, but I can feel the hatred behind them. The draugr twists my arm and pain shoots through my shoulder, causing lights to flash before my eyes. I cry out in agony and drop to my knees.

Weak and hopeless, I hang my head and whisper, ‘I’m sorry, Stig. I tried.’

A raucous caw makes me lift my gaze. A raven dives from the sky. His eyes are pure rage: burning black dots ringed by fire. Mighty wings beat the air as he claws the creature’s head. The draugr drops my wrist to bat at the bird. It attacks again, diving and pecking at the creature’s hands, its face, its eyes.