Page 3 of Thor

Jorunn laughed. "Nope! He did his on a seventeen-hundred-year-old shirt found at the same site we're headed to. He was accepted for a postdoc in Egypt, but with all flights cancelled due to the pandemic, he never made it out there in time to join the survey team. They've been really lucky, too. They haven't made any of their findings public yet, but you wait...once it hits the news, everyone will know about it. Keep an eye out for Saqqara."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Sibyl asked.

Jorunn shrugged. "People talk. I listen. Besides, I had to catch a lift here with the rest of the team, and after fifteen minutes in a car with Nik, you'd wish he had gone to Egypt and opened a cursed tomb so he never made it back, too."

Sibyl couldn't condemn him as easily as Jorunn did. "Yeah, but...if I'd missed out on a paid research trip to Egypt because of the pandemic, I'd be pretty bitter about it, too. Anyone would. You've got to feel sorry for the guy."

Jorunn nodded slowly. "For the first ten minutes after you hear about it, before you meet him, maybe. Or maybe the first five minutes after you meet him. By the end of this week, you'll agree with me: it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." She picked up her pack, which looked bigger than Sibyl's. "Come on, let's see if Lara needs any help loading up the supplies. According to Karl, there's always one bottle of aquavit too many to fit on the packhorses, and if you're there at the right time, with space in your pack, we'll have that bottle to toast our first night at site as roommates. What do you think?"

But before Sibyl could think, let alone reply, Jorunn led the way outside to where the packhorses waited. Yes, actual packhorses – the only way up into the mountains to the dig site, aside from their own two feet.

One thing was for certain: this was going to be an interesting trip.

THREE

Thor woke with a pounding head and a mouthful of swearing he couldn't spit out fast enough. What was that thing?

"I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, or I will no longer heal you. Then we'll see how long a man can live with a wound such as yours."

Thor's eyes flew open. Pain still lanced through his skull, but in the dimness, he could make out a feminine silhouette that was likely the source of the tart voice.

"Are you a witch?" he croaked. For surely only a woman with magic could heal him. He'd heard tales of witches who could work miracles and ones who could make a man's life a misery. Which one this woman was, he had yet to discover, but if she meant to heal him, he held onto hope that she might be the benevolent kind, for there was not much he could do if she meant him harm. His head had not hurt this much even after that night he'd challenged Loki to a drinking contest and drunk an entire barrel full of mead. He'd won the contest, but the next morning he had not felt like a victor.

This time, there had been no mead. Only a giant, grinning wolf man, with paws the size of his aching head...

"What was that thing?" he asked.

The witch, if that was what she was, pressed a hand to his forehead. "Hush. Healing requires focus, lest I knit your hair together instead of your wound, and I give you a hat you can never take off."

Definitely a witch, though a young one, by the sound of her voice. And comely, from what little he could see of her in the faint light.

"I am a mighty warrior. Many women have wanted me for their husband. If you heal me, and bring me back to fighting strength, I could make you the envy of all other women, and take you for my own," Thor offered.

"Mighty indeed. I've seen you fight. But you are still no match for Fenrir, so if you do not wish me to call on him to give you another blow to the head, you will hush and let me do my work. Father wants you well, but if I need to call for help to hold you down to heal you, he may decide you're more trouble than you're worth, and let Fenrir finish what he started."

Thor began to laugh. "That thing has a name? Fenrir?"

She set her hands on her hips. "He is as much a man as you, maybe more so, for he bested you in battle. If you are lucky, you may fight at his side next time. That is Father's wish, anyway." But it did not sound as if it was hers.

"And what is your wish?" Thor ventured. For if he could get her on his side, maybe...

"I wish men would not sneak up on settlements in the night to attack one another, so that we must fight to defend what is ours. I wish men could be content with what they have, instead of reaching for what is not theirs, wanting more. I wish you would shut your mouth so I can finish healing you and send you to the feast with Father like he wants, so that you will be his problem, and not mine."

Her hand pressed him down against the bed, and he yielded to her, for he suspected her patience was growing thin, and he did want her to heal him, if it was within her power. He was a fighter, and even he knew he could not fight while his head hurt.

Finally, she was done, dusting her hands off as if washing them of her responsibility for him. A pity, for she was pretty, even if she was a witch. Perhaps, if not for that creature's attack, he would not be wounded, and she would have admired him as the warrior he was. Women did flock to him, whether he willed it or no. Just not this witch. Thor sighed. Probably for the best. Comely or not, she had a sharp tongue, and he did not fancy her for a wife.

"Fenrir! He's ready to go see Father!" the girl called.

Thor braced himself for another attack from the beast, but instead he saw a man. A man much like himself, with the tall, broad stance of a warrior. This man, Thor knew he could best in a fight.

Then the man grinned, a wolfish smile that Thor feared would haunt his dreams for many years to come. For man or beast, this was the same creature he'd fought. Sif's killer. "Come on, little man. Thank Miss Astrid for her kindness in healing you instead of cutting out your heart, as you deserve." He held out his hand – yes, definitely a hand, and not a paw – to help Thor up.

It rankled to be reminded of his courtesies by this creature, so Thor ignored the hand and rose to his feet unaided.

He might not like the witch's killer companion, but Thor was grateful to the girl. Especially now he could stand, with his head no longer hurting. A miracle indeed. He bowed to her. "My thanks to you, Miss Astrid. If you ever have need of my hammer, you have only to say the word, and I shall defend you."

He glanced around, but there was no sign of his hammer anywhere in the small cottage.

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