Havamal: 31 Wilda followed Sigdir into the dark of Einar’s little hut, far away from the rest, from the light and noise that drifted up through the frosty air and a deepening snowfall. Sigdir lit a mean rush taper and light flickered over the little that Einar had. She sat down on the bench and stroked a hand over the tatty furs there, hoping to feel a little of his warmth still on them, but they were long cold. Sigdir watched her closely, though he said nothing before he crouched before her. His eyes flicked about, restless again, across her face, down to where her hand held a palmful of deer fur, then he looked away, as though ashamed. Shamed for her, for coming to Einar? Or shamed for Einar? She couldn’t tell and it didn’t matter. “Bausi.” The word made her jump, the harshness of it disturbing the hut, as though it had no right to be there. Sigdir’s face worked as he struggled to find some way to talk to her with only the few words she knew of Norse.
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