I’ve always imagined the old Norse warriors standing at the edge of a misty forest, letting the wind through the branches carry whispers of the gods. They’d probably walk a quiet path, maybe leave a handful of seeds or a small stone in a clearing, asking the trees to watch over them, kind of like a living talisman. And after the fight, they’d sit by a bonfire, hear the crunch of pine needles, and feel the forest’s breath reminding them that life keeps growing no matter what. It's a little dreamy, but I think nature always finds a way to calm the heart before battle.