As with all these snippets, the purpose is to get a feel for the story, aesthetic, characters, and mood. All pieces are subject to change. Characters are my own.

Rotagǫll woke to find herself in her home. The fire in the center crackled and a warmth radiated from it beside her. She stared a moment at the thatched roof above, the hole near the top allowing the thick smoke to filter out, but not enough for it not to stain her lips and tickle her lungs. Rotagǫll peered over at the sunset flames dancing in the pit, only for her eye to be drawn to Shiori, who wore oversized furs from Rot’s slim selection of clothing, and found herself stooped beside the cooking pot, stirring it above the flames with a large wooden spoon. One of her snakes noticed Rotagǫll’s yellowed gaze, and poked Shiori’s cheek. The woman looked up, the flames highlighting her soft features. She smiled.

    “You’re awake. Thank the gods,” she breathed. “You had me worried. How are you feeling?” She stood. The knots keeping the thick coat closed in the front had not been made for such a slim woman, and as Shiori moved closer, Rot found herself catching a glimpse of the side of Shiori’s breast. 

    “Better now,” Rot murmured, lifting her gaze to Shiori’s. The woman knelt beside the plank bed and touched Rot’s forehead. The snakes reached forward and peppered Rotagǫll’s face with kisses. Rot couldn’t help but smile.

    “Oh, shhh, you all,” Shiori chastised, leaning back. “You have to give her space.” One of the snakes opened their mouth at Shiori, saying something Rotagǫll could not hear. Shiori huffed. “I did not. Now shush, let me work and don’t bother Rot.”

    “It’s quite all right,” Rotagǫll said. “They aren’t bothering me.”

    “Shush to you, too. You’ll give them all sorts of ideas.” Shiori touched Rot’s forehead again, frowned, then pulled the blanket draped over the norse woman’s body off. Rotagǫll lay there, bare-breasted, with a large wrapping around her stomach. She had half a mind to be startled, but instead found herself smiling a little more. How long had she not had a shirt on while Shiori tended to her? Her smile wavered. How long had she been unconscious?

    Shiori peeled the bandages off, layer by layer, unwrapping Rotagǫll. She glanced up at the woman. “Does this hurt?” Her brows knit together. One of the snakes licked the air and opened its mouth wide, as if in a smile. 

    “No,” Rot replied. “I do not remember what occurred.” 

    “You came home like this. Your stomach was split open. We were all afraid you wouldn’t make it. Utinsun said the gods had blessed you because you did not die outright.” Shiori let out a shaky breath, looked down at her hands, and her snakes pressed against her cheeks, trying to comfort her. Rot reached over and touched Shiori’s arm.

    “What is it?” she asked.

    “There was a lot of blood, Rotagǫll. I… I really didn’t think you’d survive.” She looked to Rot, tears brimming in those vibrant orange eyes. “Maybe you were right. Maybe you are gifted by the gods.”

    “I am glad to still be here.” 

    “What did this to you? Do you remember?” 

    Rotagǫll frowned. The flash of talons bit into her memory, the screeching of crows, the taste of feathers in her mouth. 

    “I do not wish to speak on it now,” Rot whispered. “It would be ill to do so before I have healed.” 

    Shiori watched her, eyes pleading, before she looked back down at Rot’s stomach. She continued to unwrap it, her touch gentle. “I will be here for you when you are ready.”

    “Mm.” Rot looked up at the ceiling, the fire’s heat warming her breasts. “How long have I been asleep?”

    “Two days,” Shiori murmured.

    “Ah. And you took my shirt off when…?” She glanced down, a smirk tugging at her lips. The snakes pressed against Shiori’s cheeks, but this time not for comfort. They tangled themselves, twisting over one another as they pressed against her burning face.

    “It was to help you, you know,” she said.

    “I assume you never looked.”

    “I never looked.”

    Rot laughed. “You are a horrid liar, Shiori.”

    Shiori kept herself focused on her work. “You were hurt and I was ensuring you were okay. Nothing more, Rot.”

Rot smiled. That, at least, did not seem like a lie.

As Shiori reached the final layer of bandages, it became evident that the wrap was bulging. That thick, black hairs were sticking out of the sides. She shared a perplexed glance with Rot before Shiori pulled the wrap free.

    Beneath, where Rotagǫll had once nearly been split in half, thick fur spilled, running the length of where the scar should remain. Rot reached down and touched it, gingerly at first, before she ran her fingers down to the skin beneath. Unbroken. Undamaged. She reached up and touched her left eye, where the fur spilled where the scar once did. The fur was the same. They felt the same. They looked the same. Once more, her life had been saved and she was given parts of another.

    “Rotagǫll,” Shiori breathed. She looked to Rot, eyes wide. “You’re… you’re not hurt.” 

    Rot stared at her stomach, then to Shiori. “It would appear that I am not.” 

    Shiori said something in her native tongue, a phrase that sounded of bitterness and anger and sorrow. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she placed a tender kiss against the fur on Rot’s belly. The sensation sent shivers down Rotagǫll’s spine. Shiori pulled her lips away and rested her forehead against the fur. 

    “You scared me so much,” she rasped. “So much, Rotagǫll.” 

    “I did not mean to,” Rot murmured. She reached out, and Shiori’s snakes wrapped around Rot’s hand, their smooth scales warm from the fire’s light. Shiori leaned into Rot’s touch. “I am sorry to have frightened you, Shiori.” 

    Shiori closed her eyes and sighed. Rot sat up slowly. She cupped Shiori’s face and leaned down. The snakes pulled back from her hand, pulled back from Shiori’s face, gave Rot plenty of room. Shiori’s eyes fluttered open, glistening with tears.

    “Thank you for taking care of me,” Rot murmured. “And for making sure my boobs were the right size.” 

    Shiori flushed and laughed, reaching up and wiping her tears away. “I am a healer and I was doing my job. You are horrid.”

    “Maybe.” Rotagǫll leaned forward, her forehead touching Shiori’s. “But not always.” She pressed her lips to the Empress’, tasted her, and pulled her as close as they could manage.