She lifted a hand to her face, brushing the edge of one of the tattoos. “These? They mark my magic.” As was becoming familiar, at Loki’s touch a slight shiver ran down her spine. “I am but a poor sorceress, my lord.”
“Mark your magic… how so? I am unfamiliar with this… I have no such markings.” Loki pushed himself up a little, propping his elbows behind him. He took his weight on his left side and raised his right hand to lightly trace the edge of the tattoos.
Her heartbeat sped up at the gentle brush of his hand. “T-they tell all who look upon me what magics I have in my mastery. Around my eyes for that my senses may be enhanced. The feathers of a bird for that my magic is that of the deep forest and the wild lands.” Sigyn tried to breathe, closing her eyes against his touch. “And the colour of dusk for that my magic is also that of the shadows and the soft night.”
“Fascinating…” he whispered gently under his breath. He put his hand under her chin and softly lifted her head until she was looking at him. “They are beautiful, Sigyn… I have never seen anything like it…” He gave a warm smile that crumpled into a concerned frown when he heard the crashing noise coming from behind them.
He pushed himself up, careful to set Sigyn on her feet, and drew out his daggers. He placed himself between the line of trees and Sigyn and every muscle tensed as the bilgesnipe came plowing through the underbrush.
A hot flush of energy ran through Sigyn’s limbs. Instinctively, she snapped out a hand and called her bow, moon-bright with silver inlay and already strung taut. A swift glance told her that Loki had only daggers, with which he would have to approach far too close for safety.
“‘Ware, my lord!” she cried. She summoned an arrow and fired in one breath; the shot whirred past the bilgesnipe’s head.