"I also asked if I could go on a hunt," she said and she looked at him, her eyes full of mischief. There was a moment, before her father laughed.
"The goddess cannot do everything," he said.
When they went outside the fire was already burning huge and bright in the centre of the ring of huts. Turning on a spit was one of the boars that the hunters had caught earlier in the day. It crackled and splattered as the fat fell into the flames. The smell of roasting meat filled Morg's nostrils and her mouth watered. She realised she had not eaten since the morning. The villagers were gathered around the fire and Olwig's father was slicing great hunks of meat off the beast. Morg elbowed her way to the front.