Kvitrafn hadn’t expected her sister to turn, for her body to rise, or for her head to be directly beneath the weight of her very large, beautiful, gnarled stick. Neither had she expected the force or the strength that her sister could wield when her skull made impact with Kvitrafn’s newest prized possession. She knew her sister was large—growing more quickly than herself—but were skulls always that strong? Or was it just a trait special to her Viking sister?

Kvit’s own teeth rattled in her skull as her body wobbled following the collision, her back legs trembling with a desire to stand despite the impact promising otherwise. But she did not fall—thankfully—and as soon as her eyesight had sharpened from the blurry vision that followed, she blinked at her sister again.

Roskva’s words were lost to Kvitrafn’s ears, for what guilt she might’ve felt had been diluted and preoccupied by the glorious, shiny tooth that now rested beside her sister’s paw.

Had she…done that?

Kvitrafn couldn’t ignore the desire to peer at it more closely, briefly dropping her stick from her mouth as she did so. The tooth was marvelous—smaller than she imagined it would be, and a bit covered in the familiar droplets of blood, but that was okay; she already loved it.

Can I have it? She asked with bulging eyes, pupils blown and a stare that already said she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

But when her sister’s tears were sucked back in (tears and emotions that Kvitrafn hadn’t noticed in her fascination with the tooth at their feet), and her sister asked for Kvit to get the rest, the little gremlin of a child was all for it.

As long as she could keep the rest of them.

Her wagged excitedly behind her as she lunged for the stick again: Wready? She asked her sister, with a mouthful of her glorious branch.

And without a second to spare, Kvitrafn swung the club again in Roskva’s direction, hopeful that even more teeth would fall from her mouth once more.

Like a real-life piñata.