The Giant Who Stayed

The air is glass. The surface trembles. Two children laugh where the sea meets the ice — their

voices bright enough to wake the sky. Helga, the mountain’s daughter, spins in her red

scarf. Arni, a fisher boy from the bay, dares her to run

farther. The ice answers with a crack — a breath sucked in too fast.

One step. One shout. Helga slides away, spinning, her small hands

reaching toward a horizon that will not move. Silence. Then a roar that

shakes the snow from the cliffs. Bárður runs. His footprints steam. He finds only her

cloak — blue, caught in the glacier’s teeth. Arni stands frozen, mouth open,