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And now it has a sword in its eye and it's very angry.

Loki stabs desperately at its length - she can't be sure of not hitting Sigyn herself if she goes for the head right now - but it's undeterred.

When Sigyn comes down again, he does so into the wurm's mouth, and he is swallowed, quick as a wink.
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Well. That's less than optimal. Less than comfortable, too.

But Sigyn is not one to give way in the face of such trivial obstacles as being swallowed by an enormous monster. He draws a pair of knives and manages to get himself stuck in the beast's throat, although he lacks the proper leverage to climb back into its mouth from there, especially while it is still moving around so vigorously.
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And moving vigorously it is, because it now has the landwurm equivalent of a fishbone in its gullet and another foe to eat.

Except nobody's watching, now.

Loki blinds the wurm in its other eye with a blob of darkness, deafens it with a localized thunderclap, can't really do anything about its sense of smell but likes her odds much better when it's down two senses.

It flings coils at her last known location but she's not there anymore - well, not on the ground. She's vaulted up on Lævateinn, and the part of it stuck in the ground is all over spikes, and the wurm flinches back when it encounters them. The weapon is knocked over and Loki with it, but she has perfect grace, she lands on her feet, she shrinks Lævateinn and grows it out again, takes advantage of the retreating coils and confused sniffing head to advance towards the only final target on this thing.

She could cut it in half. Twice. It would be smaller then but not less alive. She has to get the brain.

One eye is occupied by a sword; getting past it would be difficult. She aims at her blob of dark. And Lævateinn is as long as she needs it to be.

The death isn't instant, and Loki is knocked away from her lodged weapon by a thrashing coil, which isn't good for her, she didn't wear her armor to go hunting aurochs -

But no one's watching. She fixes it. She fixes it and seizes the, what is this now, a swordstaff, and drives it a little farther into the landwurm's brain.

And when it's no longer heaving, only twitching, she shrinks Lævateinn out of the eye socket and turns it into a saw and starts decapitating the thing. She's not sure how far Sigyn is.

The blob of darkness disappears.
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By this time, Sigyn has made a little progress on dragging himself back up the worm's gullet. It's slow going: crushed by the pressure, unable to breathe, and with a strong suspicion that whatever the reason his legs hurt like that, it will take more than a day's rest to cure. But it's a more appealing prospect than patiently waiting for death.

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Well, Sigyn isn't right at the top of its throat, so she has to cut farther. She starts slitting open the underside of the landwurm.

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There he is!
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And she drags him out.

"Sigyn? How bad is it...?"

How bad is it?
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Sigyn shrugs, coughs; still too busy getting his breath back to waste any of it speaking.

It's... not good. Less the sort of injury that leads to having exciting tales to tell around the campfire, more the sort that leads to not going on any more hunting trips.
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She has thought through this possibility with Thor. For Thor she'd bear the likely publicization and the inevitable scorn. She has not thought it through with Sigyn.

He's breathing, isn't he? He made a gesture. If that was a gesture. Come on, be going to live without help -
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Maybe he'll live without help. Maybe he won't. His crushed legs will definitely need the attention of a healer at some point, and it had better be a good one.

He's still coughing. Some blood comes up. That's never a good sign. Internal damage - maybe a punctured lung.

She'd better not take too much longer to decide.
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"I will have your silence," she snarls, and then she puts her hand on his forehead and he is healed.
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He coughs one more time; reflects for a moment; and says, "Well. Who knew being swallowed by a landwurm could be so uneventful."

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She snorts. She pulls one of his knives out of the walls of the wurm's esophagus and hands it to him.

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"Thank you," he says. "If you are ever considering being swallowed by a monster, I have to say I recommend against it. If it'd had me another minute, who knows what could've happened. As it is, I may have to sit out the rest of this hunting expedition."

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"Yes, I imagine so. I'm not in much of a hunting mood anymore either. Let's drag its head to the others," suggests Loki.

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"Let's," he agrees.

His impression of a person injured enough to be slightly impaired but not enough to worry about permanent damage is impeccable. In the process of getting the head wrapped up to carry - it takes the pair of them working together to lift it - he acquires enough miscellaneous cuts to explain all the blood.
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Loki may have briefly had a concussion, but she really wasn't bloodied, and there's plenty of plant debris in her hair and mud on her outfit.

It's a heavy head, but they can haul it. Drag. Drag. Draaaag.

"Sister!"
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"...Is that a landwurm?"

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"It was. Now it is a head."

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"So I see! What a tale that must make."

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"Oh, not such an exciting one," says Sigyn. "I put my sword in its eye. It swallowed me. She stabbed its other eye and retrieved me from its interior, somewhat the worse for the experience but still, as you can see, entirely undigested."

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...This is not the sort of tale-telling Thor is used to, but it is undeniably vivid in its imagery. And there indeed is Sigyn's sword, still stuck in the beast's eye.

"You are a warrior," she declares.
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"He is indeed."

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She shakes her head in amazement. "I can hardly credit it. A landwurm!"

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"I've fought one before," he says. "Smaller. Disguised as a snowbank. I had a longer sword then. It didn't eat me."

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