Godstone

And so, I set off claymore abreast, aback Grimnr, to fell the white hart of artistry.

Jarnja took to the skies, and we set about our destiny.

The God's Woods were thick fir, birch, and hemlock and yew, copses of trees weaving about like lover's embraces as I rode the gallows horse's thick fetlocks in search of the elusive white hart. I had a pack of bow and arrows borrowed from Felice, and as Grimnr cantered along, his hooves like a thundering melody, a great rain began to fall.

There was a High Seat like Jarnja's father Wotan the Raven's own outlook in Asgard standing tall, carved of the tallest tree I had ever seen, in the center of the forest. It was from there that Jarnja watched me, looking like a gargoyle high above her throne.

I came to a fjord where the Watermen had docked and found hart foottracks in the mud.

"Laguz of the lamb's ear, Laguz like flowing Njordr – bespell the tracks of your passenger, and show me th