“Uh huh. You say that now, but just you wait. My mum had me trekking all up and down these mountains checking traps, until it felt like my feet would fall right off—”
Astrid’s mother Runa is— around the hold somewhere, certainly, this picture wouldn’t be complete without her. But she’s more of an impression in the background, a pleasant shadow cast over the landscape, maternal warmth in the distance but not having to be reckoned with up close. Tante Astrid in the meantime is bigger and brighter and more vivid, and her boisterous younger brother is constantly making a nuisance of himself around the hold, pinching Morgana’s cheeks. (He’s easier to fill in the blanks, a simpler picture to paint: the half-siblings have had no end of bickering and squabbling and catching each other in a headlock, to reproduce the scene.)
“Anyway, we’ll get to rest once we reach the peak and after we’re done, too,” Astrid says. “Have a drink, eat a snack.”
She’s got a strong stomach; she’s not fussed by the prospect of eating her cheese sandwich right next to a pile of steaming entrails on the rock.
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Astrid’s mother Runa is— around the hold somewhere, certainly, this picture wouldn’t be complete without her. But she’s more of an impression in the background, a pleasant shadow cast over the landscape, maternal warmth in the distance but not having to be reckoned with up close. Tante Astrid in the meantime is bigger and brighter and more vivid, and her boisterous younger brother is constantly making a nuisance of himself around the hold, pinching Morgana’s cheeks. (He’s easier to fill in the blanks, a simpler picture to paint: the half-siblings have had no end of bickering and squabbling and catching each other in a headlock, to reproduce the scene.)
“Anyway, we’ll get to rest once we reach the peak and after we’re done, too,” Astrid says. “Have a drink, eat a snack.”
She’s got a strong stomach; she’s not fussed by the prospect of eating her cheese sandwich right next to a pile of steaming entrails on the rock.