The Raven in the Tree

Odin brought me, in corvid hame, to this place. This cosmic crossing is like Hlidskjalf and Yggdrasil itself rolled into one. I can feel the wind in my feathers and the warm sun pressing against me even as the chill of twilight sets in. I ponder this place in the dim glow of dusk, my left eye red as rowan berry, and my right hand still stinging with the brand burned there. The way is open and The Old Man’s many faces are visible in the fading light.


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