— a weave of Scandinavian folklore

Katja Bradley


“I didn’t either.” She pushed a hand through her braids. “Look, I don’t even believe in this stuff! I was raised a … lukewarm Lutheran, and my father’s family in Mississippi are all Southern Baptist.” She winced, hearing the words coming out of her mouth.


Shards of the Eld
Bound by Blood
Moments Lost
Hudiksvall, Sweden
Thomas Bradley, father
Magdalene Bradley, mother
Robert Bradley, brother
Sia Starholm, girlfriend


What's your name
Katja Bradley
How old are you
It's rude to ask a woman's age
What do you look like
Black braids, black eyes, and with a flair for colourful fasion. Athletic, I guess
Where were you at the start of the story
Dealing with nightmares about the dead, after I a month earlier made a deal I didn't understand at the time. Still worth it, though
What did you want, when the story started
To further my career, and be happy with my lovely girlfriend Sia
Who are your parents
Thomas and Magdalene. Dad's African-American and came to Sweden during the Vietnam war. Mom was a model who turned sewing teacher after she met Dad
What was your education like
Fairly standard. Basic years in Hudiksvall, and went to Stockholm to study sewing and patterns. I always knew I wanted to become a fashion designer
Do you make friends easily
Oh, yes. Really easily infact. I love meeting new people
Do you have a best friend
Not really, though Andrej is a really close friend, and Sia's more than friends, but also a good friend
Can you get people to do what you want them to? If so, how
Yes, I have a knack for talking people into things
Do you have scars? Where did they come from
None as of yet, but I'm expecting that'll change
Can you navigate without getting lost? To what degree
If you put a map in my hand I'll … be sure to be lost
Can you bake a cake
Occasionally, but I prefer buying them
Do you know how to perform basic maintenance on a car
Very basic, sure
Is there something you do that most other people don’t
Sew, I guess. Fight with spears. Ride massive wolves into battle
What is the most formative moment in your past
I think, honestly, the fights my parents used to have. Made me quite certain to never tie myself up in a committed relationship
Do you have any phobias
Only if you count 'committed relationships'
What are some of your bad habits
I snore and pick my teeth
Do you have a moral code? To what extent are your actions dictated by this code
I never thought so. Lately, I'm not as sure


*First draft Written during NaNoWriMo November 2014

Friday evening, Katja’s train arrived at Tanum station. Sia met her on the platform, kissing her softly.

“Hey. How’s the dreams?” Her hands slipped around Katja’s neck.

“They’re fine.” Katja shook her head impatiently. “Not sure the same with me, though. I don’t want to think about it. Not right now.”

“We’ll have to foodshop before heading home.” Sia’s hand slid down to rest on Katja’s hip. “Anything you feel like?”

“Something light. Cheese and crackers?” Katja hugged her girlfriend close, kissing her neck teasingly. “Wine. Nakedness.”

“We do have an entire large—and largely unrenovated—farm to ourselves …” Sia chuckled, slipping into the driver seat of her car.

When they reached the farm, a large, wolf-like creature met them. He reached up to Katja’s waist, the head shaggy, in gray and white. Despite the menacing appearance his yellow eyes and the scar over his left eye gave him, he whuffled and nosed at Katja.

“Hey, Gråtass.” She scratched him behind the ears, struck by the bizarre juxtaposition between who he was and who he appeared to be. However, she reflected as she dug her fingers into his grey-and-white fur, if she could find someone to feed her and scratch her, maybe she wouldn’t object either.

You are looking tired. The glint in his yellow eyes matched his gravelly mind-voice and was distinctly wicked. He knew that she knew that he knew why.

“Yes, well, I’ve had a lot to do.” Nope. Not letting an ulv get the better of her.

You know what you need to do. He followed her back to the car as she grabbed the suitcase. She ignored him, refusing to think of the labyrinth and the chainmail hidden deep in her closet.

Sia carried the groceries in ahead of her, and Katja’s mood turned for the better watching her broad hips and the way the skirt accentuated her curves.

“That’s a sight for sore eyes,” she teased, setting the suitcase down in the large farmhouse kitchen.

“What is?” Sia unpacked the cold cuts, letting her hazel gaze run over her domains. The stone floor had several woven carpets, the old stone counters topped with new planks of oak.

“You.” Katja pulled her to her, stroking Sia’s hips from behind. “I miss you.”

“You could move here, you know … It’s not that far to travel, and you aren’t always needed in Stockholm.”

Katja released her, stepping away to busy herself with … something. Anything.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, though.” Sia bit into her lip, and Katja cursed herself mentally.

“I love you,” she said, not answering either of the questions. “Let’s get dinner going, and then we can sit on your porch with a glass of wine.”