Thunder clapped as the sky darkened with the roiling mass of thick, black clouds. Saraline ducked as a tree branch snapped from a nearby Elm and narrowly missed her slender form. Asgard was falling. The Greek Pantheon, led by Zeus was making their way into the middle of their realm, destroying all that was in their path. Odin had assembled the main bulk of Asgard's Norse warriors at the main gate to the city, hoping to protect it's non magical residents. As a young woman, twenty in human years, she hadn't yet reached her majority, therefore her magical powers would be non-existent until bestowed upon her by her great grandfather.

A wail of sorrow echoed around the castle. Thor had fallen. Freya's grief hit her as tears welled in her eyes. It would do her no good now. She could grieve for her fallen family members later. The people around her were screaming, their sorrow, their fear, it all culminating in the masses that were making their way to the Bifrost. Everyone had the same idea as her, getting as far away from the chaos as possible. She navigated through the throng of people, before something grabbed her by the arm.

"Let me g-" she began, before she saw who it was.

"Shh, Sara, we need to go," Loki whispered as he pulled her away from the others.

Saraline nodded as she followed him, thankful a familiar face had found her before she had gotten lost. The two made their way to a lower level of the home she had grown up in with her grandfather and his brother. It was seen as strange that the two brothers shared an abode, but as Loki explained it to her; Thor was betrothed, and the only way to keep him out of trouble, was to keep him away from the castle. Not like it mattered anymore. Sitting her down on the plush furniture in the main receiving room, Loki paced back and forth while she eyed him nervously.

"So what's going on Grandpapa?" Saraline asked, fear in her voice.

"My father, that oaf Odin has decreed that I send you to Midgard." Loki stated with annoyance behind his words.

"But why?"

"You reach your majority and therefore your power within a couple months," he replied, sitting beside her. "By sending you to Midgard, the Greeks will have a tougher time finding you than if I sent you to one of the other nine realms. Hence why I took you from heading to the Bifrost. You must live, survive and find Mjolnir. Odin sent it to Midgard for protection since Thor can... No longer wield it. Your parents are gone, but we will all be there for you. I'll send what little help I can while we rain hell on those Greek pansies. They got the drop on your uncle, but it doesn't help they have a thunder wielder too. Oh well, you live, you learn. Good luck my granddaughter, may we meet again sooner rather than later."

Loki raised his hands, as magic started to spark and twist in the air. A wind picked up within the air, spinning around Saralind and lifting her upward. Before she could respond to Loki's words, her form disappeared into what appeared to be a well-like tunnel, being forced through with the heavy winds carrying her. She screamed, it lost to the fast paced air before a light shimmered around her. The tunnel disappeared, not so winding as she found herself deposited into a shallow pool of water.

"Son of a Frost Giant's bollocks!" she yelled.

The day had began like any other, Halvar awoke at the dawn, if the hunt was to go as planned he would have to leave early. Pulling on his worn hunting garb and donning a thick cloak, he strung and unstrung his bow, checking for any potential flaws, then packed it tightly in to a quiver which he proceeded to sling over his shoulder along with a small pack of supplies. Carrying his spear in his hands, the hilt a gallery of different nicks and scratches, documenting many close encounters with the dangerous wildlife surrounding 'Stor Foss' - the village in which he was born, raised and would most likely die in.

A grand sight greeted Halvar as he left his hut, the icy falls for which the village was named, stretching endlessly into the sky, disappearing among the clouds, its roar a comforting ever-present noise. It was too early for the village to have woken from it's slumber, the forge lay cold and the streets peaceful, the only disturbance the noise of Halvar's boots among the snow.

The trails into the mountains were barely noticeable to the average person's eye, especially under the foot or so of snow that had fell overnight, however years of hunting had conditioned his senses beyond that of the average person and he quickly picked up a game trail and began the long hike upwards. Catching himself getting complacent on the long walk he had to shake himself to alertness, he need only look at the multitude of scars covering his body to serve as a reminder of the many danger's of the mountain. It was not customary to hunt alone but the winters had not been kind to Stor Foss, it was as if the deities were busy with troubles of their own, and Halvar was one of the only able bodied huntsmen left.

Stopping to catch his breath a few hours later and to offer a quick prayer to Skaði, the norse goddess of the hunt, he paused on a rocky shelf overlooking the village which was beginning to come alive with smoke and people milling around going about their business. A deep growl emanated from behind him, he turned quickly on the balls of his feet and raised his spear. A male wolf stood before him, hackles raised, not wishing to shed blood where unnecessary, he offered it a scrap of meat hastily torn from his bag. To his relief the wolf chewed it quickly and skulked away into the bushes. Just as he began to relax, a noise unlike any he had heard before started and rose in pitch and volume. As it reached its crescendo, a beam of light struck the floor in front of Halvar, and with it carried a force which cast him against a tree.

Pain.

Light.

A girl?

That was all Hadvar saw, before slipping into unconsciousness.

With a groan, Saraline stood as the dust and magic dissolved around her; it settling to the ground. She rubbed her head gently, searching for potential lumps or scrapes she might have obtained through the journey. Why in the nine realms couldn't they have figured out a less bumpy landing? She silently cursed her grandfather for causing all this trouble. Over a grudge with Hermes! She figured "don't shoot the messenger" would be a great thing to teach him. Granted, watching the Greek prance around squawking as a chicken was hilarious. But it had caused the fall of her entire way of life. Muttering obscenities that would make even a hardened Asgardian blush. Turning her head, and surveying her surroundings, she guessed that she was in a forest of sorts, not very big and with a road running through it, obviously close to civilization of some sort. Either way, if she followed the road she'd find someone who could help her. She sighed inwardly as she turned again, spotting an unconscious male slumped against a tree.

Had her arrival caused this?

With another string of cursing, she ran over to the male and pulled him so he was laying on the floor and his head in her lap; her hands searching for any obvious injury. From his weapons that he carried, she assumed he was a hunter, out on the prowl for something to eat. She lifted her gaze from his chest to his face, drinking in the features that she came across. Her fingertips touched to his lips, curiosity getting the better of her as she felt the soft bow of his lower lip. She had never been up close to anyone of the male gender that she wasn't related to, and this was all new to her. Shaking her head, she stood up and walked over to the pool she had landed in and cupped her hands, picking up a handful of water. She walked back to the man and dumped the water over his face unceremoniously.

Saraline sat down beside him, hoping the water would help awaken him. She had no idea how to bury a body if he was dead. Damn her grandfather to Hel. She had a hammer to find, and soon. Otherwise it was lights out for herself, Asgard and the nine realms.

As he awoke the first thing Hadvar noticed was the throbbing pain in the back of his head, the next was that his face was wet, probably the thing that rose him to consciousness. The next thing to spring to his attention was that he was no longer alone. Beside him was a woman that radiated beauty unlike any he had ever seen, this is not to say that the women of the village were ugly, but they had a strong simplistic look about them, whereas the lady from the sky was far from it.

His mind was straining to piece together the events that had just taken place, this woman had fell from the sky? was she a goddess? Why would a goddess leave Asgard, the mythical realm from which they hailed.

Finally coming back to his senses he realised the woman was looking back. "W-who are you?" Hadvar asked, unsure of himself.

Saraline blinked a little as her mind adjusted to the native tongue that was different to the Asgardian one she was used to. Her gaze fell to the now conscious man she had almost killed. Her cheeks flushed as she watched him. She figured she probably looked strange, which snapped her back to reality.

"Are you alright?" She asked, partially ignoring his initial question, "I would hate to have inadvertently killed someone. That would ruin my day."

She continued talking about random things between touching the lump on his head gently and checking the distinctively attractive features of the man. After a few minutes of the randomness, her mind focused and reminded her she hadn't introduced herself. Blushing red in embarrassment, she bit her lower lip.

"My apologies sir, I forgot you had asked me that. My name is Saraline, daughter of Nicholas Lokison. I am really sorry that my arrival injured you," she said, offering her hand to not only shake but to assist him up as she rose to her feet.

She smiled warmly to him, her angelic features lighting up with the soft bow of her lips. Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulder in its now loosening braid, adding a wild quality to her look.