The Sleeping Army by Francesca Simon Page A

before.’
    â€˜Yeah, with Thor behind you all the way,’ said Roskva.
    â€˜We’ll be back with Idunn before you know it,’ said Alfi.
    Freya stared at him.
    â€˜How can you be so cheerful?’ said Freya, scowling.
    â€˜A man should be happy until his dying day,’ said Alfi, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. ‘My grandpa used to say it’s always better to live than lie dead.’
    Yeah right, thought Freya. Good for your grandpa. She gnawed on her frayed sleeve.
    Roskva whistled. Freya heard pounding hooves, and Sleipnir galloped over, snorting, his eight legs churning the stony ground.
    â€˜Hurry up!’ said Snot, striding towards the gleaming river. ‘We want to get as far as we can before nightfall.’
    â€˜Snot! You’re going the wrong way,’ shouted Alfi. ‘Jotunheim is north-east. We need to head for the mountains past the River Irving.’
    Snot stalked over to Alfi. He towered over him.
    â€˜Are you as brave as me?’ he bellowed. His crooked brows bristled.
    â€˜Far from it,’ said Alfi, cowering.
    Snot kicked Alfi’s feet from under him. Alfi fell over.
    â€˜Just remember that and we’ll get on fine,’ said Snot. ‘Don’t you tell me which way to go.
I’m
leading this quest.’
    â€˜Says who?’ said Roskva.
    â€˜Says me,’ said Snot. ‘I am Woden’s chosen warrior.’
    â€˜We’ve all been chosen,’ said Roskva.
    â€˜Actually, I think Freya is leader,’ mumbled Alfi. ‘She blew Heimdall’s horn.’
    â€˜What?’ said Snot. He looked like he was about to attack Alfi again.
    â€˜
She
’s our leader?’ said Roskva. Her eyes flashed.
    I’m leader? thought Freya. If she thought it would do any good she would have howled. No one had ever asked her to lead anything. I’m a follower, thought Freya. I’m Betty the brunette, the leader’s best friend. Not—
    â€˜I should be leader,’ said Roskva. ‘I’m the smartest.’
    Snot glared at them. ‘I take orders from no one but Woden. And certainly not from children.’
    â€˜For the last time we are not children!’ screamed Roskva.
    Freya looked at the furious faces around her. Sleipnir snorted and stamped the ground, eager to go. We haven’t even set off and already we’re fighting, she thought.
    â€˜So go on, Freya, tell us, what makes you so special?’ said Roskva. ‘You wear no rings or gold arm bracelets so you must be poor and without protectors. You’re small. You’re very plain. You can’t even walk on Bifrost without vomiting. And yet the Gods have chosen you and Alfi thinks you should lead us. Are you a seeress?’
    â€˜No,’ said Freya. At least she didn’t think she was.
    â€˜Then what’s so special about you?’ Roskva repeated.
    Freya tried to focus.
    â€˜Nothing,’ said Freya.
    What talents did she have? Did she even have any?She’d been in her school’s ‘Good as Gold’ book twice in a row. She held the school record for the most pancakes eaten in ten minutes. And she could … and she had … Somehow Freya didn’t think being good as gold or able to stuff her face with pancakes was going to help her much now. How depressing to be twelve years old and good at nothing.
    â€˜What are
you
good at?’ asked Freya.
    â€˜I’m the fastest runner in Midgard,’ said Alfi. ‘Well, I was. I imagine I still am. I’m certainly the oldest.’ He grinned.
    â€˜I’m almost as fast as you,’ said Roskva hotly. ‘And let’s face it. I’m a lot smarter.’
    â€˜A quick tongue often talks itself into trouble,’ said Alfi.
    â€˜And out of it,’ said Roskva.
    Freya felt as if she were watching a ping-pong match between brother and sister.
    â€˜We must go NOW,’ bellowed Snot. His fists clenched. ‘We have to