Yngvild slumped against the stone. A hammer and chisel fell from her hands and were lost in the loam and moss. Her head fell forward, hair obscuring her face. Tears cleared the dirty from her face and she tried to raise her arms to wipe them away.
Her hands shook with every effort. She gasped and fought down a sob. Yngvild reached for the knife on her belt. It’s bone handle smooth against her callused palm, the blade dented and dulled from use.
She bit her lip and pressed the tip of the knife to her thumb. Blood welled up before it ran down her hand. Yngvild struggled keep her now bleeding hand off she ground and she rolled over onto her knees. She grasped the stone to steady herself as she studied it and her work.
Runes covered the face. Their combination of sharp lines were offset by the sweeping curves they traced. Yngvild followed them with her thumb, spreading blood and mud with every pass.
Yngvild murmured calls to the gods and prayers to ancestors as she finished her work, asking for something unheard. Finished, she sat back on her heels and looked up at the early morning sky. The sun was rising with a promise but the tears still ran down her face.
Today’s art is courtesy of Andrew Steven Nicoll from Ventura County, USA.