The birds seemed to talk to one another when he finally called them by their names, flying down to the ground in front of the small fire he was preparing. Their eyes seemed eager, and one hopped excitedly and released a triumphant caw when the first flames licked at the cup.
The cup itself at first seemed resistant to the flames, and it took an unnaturally long time for it to actually catch fire. When it did, though, a dark cloud overtook the valley and a low, gravelly groan could be heard from the mountains. The entire valley seemed to be holding its breath until skies broke open and unleashed a heavy rain. A lightning bolt clapped down out of the sky, cracking the cup apart and disintegrating it instantaneously.
It was then that the mossy knoll from which the cup had been taken began to move, though with the rest of the valley coming suddenly to life it might not come to his attention at first. The ravens took off, circling overhead erratically as they cawed and jeered.
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Sigurn opened her eyes to find herself completely enmeshed in moss that seemed to grow all around her, to have grown into her. Tearing wildly at the moss, she ripped it from her throat and her nose and let out a terrible roar of rage. Thinking that the witch had somehow anticipated her arrival and set up an enchantment, Sigurn was entirely unaware of the time that had passed since she had last been conscious. Entirely unaware that she had fallen from drinking from a cup made of the wood of the tree beneath which she had been conceived.
All she knew was that she was on her way to vanquish the witch and save her brothers and the people of Adela.
Her muscles screamed and creaked and groaned like a long unused old door as she rose up and hacked away at the strangling moss. As she emerged from her prison into the storm, her eyes spotted the two ravens overhead. She called to them, voice rough and gravelly from misuse, "Brothers!"
The ravens swooped down and perched on either of her shoulders, the armor she was wearing rusted through and covered in moss and lichen. It was then that she spotted a large form just a stones throw away, and she reached for her crossbow... Only to find its wood rotten and crumbling beneath her fingers. Only her axe, of all things, remained as it had been all those hundreds of years ago, hewn as it had been by the gods themselves and given to her as a reward for her many feats.
Eyes full of justified rage, Sigurn assumed the man kneeling by a now damp and smoking pile of wood had been sent by the witch. Disoriented and weak as she was, Sigurn still managed to grip her axe, preparing to throw it at the man to have it lodge into his skull. Just as she was about to release it, Eluf, the larger of the ravens, dug his talons into her hand and forced her to drop her weapon. "What is this, brother?" She growled out, bending to pick the axe up again. Eluf struck out at her, and she could not bring herself to bat him away.
The ruffling of wings brought her attention about as she saw Stigr fly away. Rising up slowly, she watched as Stigr flew to perch on Elyan's shoulder, seemingly trusting the man. Gripping the hilt of her axe, Sigurn stood to her full height and addressed the man in a deep, gravelly voice. "You there, man. I do not know how or why you have come to the valley of the great Blood Witch Ylva, but my brothers seem to think you friend and not foe. As such, I advise you to leave this place at once. The witch Ylva does not show mercy to the friends of my brothers or myself, and I should hate to see you perish at her hands before I vanquish her."