Dreams of an ancient past where the two of them wore different lives. At the foot of snow capped mountains a tribe of Norsemen readied to march south ...here the death of a high chieftain had left previously united tribes warring to find a new leader. Folkvar, hefted is battle axe to feel its familiar weight in his hand while smiling. From across the hut, came the call of his wife, her own gaiety lilting her voice. ‘I know that look, it brings fear to your enemies and heat to my loins…’ Dropping. Her words seemed to come from a million miles away and yet were so clearly and distincly expressed that he heard every syllable, to say nothing of a whole world more of meaning than was contained merely in her voice."I said you'd not need those pyjamas, Jeremy. I don't want you wearing those silly things in bed ever again."She came closer to him and threw her arms around his neck. He smelt the fragrance of her body, a mixture of jasmine and animal muskiness. His heart seemed almost to be about. More

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