She didn't hear him. They couldn't hear each other. They weren't in the same place. Idun was lost on a different road that Bragi didn't know about and couldn't ever find, and Bragi was still in that circle with a knife in his hand watching someone kill the woman he loved. He watched her fall. She didn't get up, and neither did he.
Idun looked at his arm, and Bragi looked at it too. It looked like something that should look bad. It looked like it was still attached, but it didn't feel like it was anymore. It couldn't, because it was right here, and neither one of them were. He was holding her arm with the one that didn't hurt, but Bragi wasn't really holding her. They were both places the other couldn't go. Someone wouldn't get up. He couldn't keep track. Was it all three of them?
He couldn't swallow. His vision blurred, but Bragi didn't cry. He was too sad to cry. He helped pull her up when she stumbled. Her wheels turned. She knew now. She didn't hear it. But she knew it all. She knew what he'd done. Bragi nodded. She'd see the nod. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm sorry.” He kept following her. She couldn't go. If she left it would be over. She'd stay lost on that road that Bragi couldn't find, and he'd stay in the circle. He'd keep holding onto the knife and watching her die, or throwing the knife and watching her brother die, and he'd never see her again. Bragi couldn't not see her again. He had to fix it. “I'm sorry. He raised the dagger. I love you. I'm sorry.”
Bragi looked for any hope in her eyes. He didn't find any. He kept holding her, but she was gone.