7 hours on the road so far. Øystein thought it'd be good for their image if they showed off their 'pure primitivity' in the Danish wilderness.

Øystein had been driving nonstop, powered purely by coca-cola and a cheap metal mixtape a customer had forgotten at Helvete. He kept his eyes fixed on the road as he hummed to the bassline, taking long swigs of his coke every so often. He'd glance over at the trashbag on the passenger floor, where Attila was snoozing with his legs on the dashboard. Øystein tossed the bottle carelessly, making it hit Attilas calf. He jolted awake, immediately knocking his head on the drool-moistened glass. "agh, átkozott.. " Attila groaned, running his hand over his small mohawk. He wiped off the drool dripping down his chin, before turning his head to look over at Øystein with groggy vision. "How much further?" Øystein drummed his fingers against the wheel, taking a quick glance over at Attila before directing his vision back on the road. "Eh. 10 minutes." Øystein roughly guessed. Attila sat up, looking out the windows at the dry grassland that seemed endless. "Bullshit. Wheres the map?" Attila spun in his chair, looking in the backseat at the other band members. Jan and Snorre were sprawled out asleep, while Varg was sitting up reading through some book about Thule cooking. "Varg, wheres the map? You're in charge of directions." Varg glared up at Attila, that usual annoyed look plastered on his face. "If I am not sitting in the passenger seat, then I do not have it." Attila scoffed, turning away & curling up again. Varg reached forward, spotting & snatching the map/pamphlet off the floor from under Attilas seat. He'd flip it open, looking over the contents. He'd scoff to himself as he read the name for the first time. "Marigold Hagen," he'd say under his breath, in a mocking tone. There were so many flowers doodled around the sections, it was like they were headed to woodstock instead of the 'nordic survival' Varg & the others were baited into believing the trip would be.