Northmen Stories

The morning air was heavy and thick with mist. Tendrils of the morning fog wrapped its fingers around the trunks and branches of trees, engulfing the leaves in its mouth, pressing the rest of its massive body against the rippling waters of the fjord. There was nothing to be seen but gray. The world felt infinitely suspended. As if the Gods were playing with time. The birds in the trees remained still and silent knowing it...