“Now swear,” Somerled whispered. It seemed to Eyvind that the sound of Somerled’s voice was echoed in the rustle of the undergrowth around them, and the restless sigh of the wind in the high branches of the firs.

“What do I say?” hissed Eyvind, though there was indeed no need for hush, since they were quite alone.

“Say what I say. Say, I swear an oath that you are my brother from this day on; my brother in the blood that we share.”

“I swear…” Eyvind repeated the strange, solemn words, wondering why his heart was pounding thus, and his skin breaking out in a cold sweat. After all, he was only reassuring the poor lad that he was not quite friendless. That was all this was.

“…faithful to each other above all other earthly vows; loyal to each other before all other earthly allegiances, even until death.”

“…even until death.”

They let go. The blood was a sticky mess, and Eyvind rummaged in his pack for scraps of linen to use as a binding. Wounds of one kind or another were common enough when hunting, and he always came well prepared.

“Here,” he said, passing an old cloth to Somerled. “Tear it up, wrap it around.”

Somerled bandaged his own arm neatly, finishing it off one-handed with a little knot that resembled a flower.

“I know what you want to be,” he said, his voice quite calm now. “That’s why I put in that part, ‘earthly vows.’ I understand your first promise must be to Thor. But your next is to me. When I am a king, you will be first among my Wolfskins, my war leader and principal bodyguard. There will always be a place for you, if you are loyal.”

“Thank you,” said Eyvind, trying to conceal his surprise. The whole thing had confused him. He would not think of the story of Niall and Brynjolf, which he had hated so much. This was a gesture of good will, no more. Somerled was lonely. He could hardly let the boy go away thinking he hadn’t a single ally. When Somerled grew a bit older, he’d realize his grand plans were foolish, something that was all in his head and nothing to do with the real world. In the meantime, the lad may as well dream his dreams. “Good night, Somerled,” Eyvind said.