I barely find any sleep that night. My body buzzes with anticipation from the time my head hits the pillow to the time the sun finally rises. But instead of feeling regret for the lost sleep, I feel anxious to get going.

I want this journey to start. The sooner it starts, the sooner I can go back home.

There are solid knocks upon all the doors as a sign to get up. As soon as my door is knocked upon, I arise and begin packing my bag.

For clothing, I wear my father's trousers, a tunic, and a leather corset that I used to wear for special occasions. Upon my feet are thick wool socks and my best leather boots from home.

Against my sides, I strap both of my father's knives. I don't know if I'll have to use them soon, but I decide it's better to have them just in case.

On top of it all, I drape my cloak—the one I used to wear for picking apples— and then tie my hair back in a braid.

In my mind, I compare myself now to the version of myself two days prior. It would be at this time that I would wake up for the day, and at this time I would help my mother with the younger children.

A sharp pang of sorrow scratches at my heart and I force the vivid image out of my mind. Quickly, I sling my bag over my shoulder and leave the room in a huff.

In the hallway, Henrik stands with his arms crossed. I approach him coolly, hoping my emotions don't seep through my calm facade, and look him in the eye.

"Good morning," I state indifferently.

"How did you sleep?" He asks, surprisingly warm.

"I didn't," I mumble as my eyes travel past him and down the hallway where Ulmar stands. The jarl is fully clad in his viking gear, including the large axe that he keeps slung over his shoulder.

Henrik follows my gaze and the both of us watch as Ulmar approaches with his hands outstretched.

"Today is the day," he exclaims brightly, his eyes glimmering from behind his bushy eyebrows, "The rest of our lives await."

His excitement happens to rub off on me and I can't help but smile in response. Ulmar sends me a sly wink as he brushes past Henrik and me.

"Let's get the men together so we can get moving," Ulmar calls to us as he walks away.

Henrik and I awkwardly exchange glances and then follow the jarl out of the house. As we emerge the house, I already see the sail of the ship is hung.

The town is silent, but people stand outside their houses and wait. As Ulmar passes them, they bow their heads.

It is not a comfortable silence by any means. It is the type of silence that overwhelms your ears and makes you feel as though the words you want to say are just aching to be released. But to break the silence would be a sin.

Henrik and I arrive at the dock where nine other men wait, including Sindri, Aros and Oli. The fact that Oli is joining this group makes my heart ache in my chest.

I want to glance back into town to find his wife and child, but I decide against it.

The men and I make a circle around a thin woman that wears a cloth dress and a fur pelt upon her shoulders. She holds a wooden bowl in her hands and waits until we are all seated around her to begin speaking.

My pack hangs heavily off of my back as I sit on the cold, damp ground.

I can feel myself begin to succumb to the coldness of the air and a shiver runs back and forth, up and down my spine. But I cannot let it show, so I clench both my fists and my jaw as tightly as I can.

"Hail Odin, Lord of Asgard," the woman begins reciting. We all join in at the second line:

"Warrior and wanderer, valiant and wise,

You to whom all the gods of Asgard look,

Sky Father on the eight-legged steed,

You who traded an eye for wisdom

And ruled a turbulent realm,

Give us the wisdom to accept

The twists and turns of Fate

Even as you surrendered yourself

To the mercies of the Norns.

Protect us, All-Father,

From what harm may come to us.

Lead us through the wilderness

And bring us safely to that great hall

That you reserve only for the brave of spirit."

In my heart, I try to use the words of the prayer to ward my fears away.

After the prayer, the thin woman holds out her bowl to Ulmar. Ulmar drinks from it and hands it to Henrik, who does the same and then hands it to the person at his right.

I watch as each man drinks from the bowl and hands it down, waiting my turn both fearfully and patiently. I, of course, am the last to drink from the bowl.

Inside is mead that burns my dry lips as I tip the bowl upward. Since I am the last one, I finish the mead and hand the empty bowl to the thin woman.

"May Odin and all the gods above have mercy on you," the thin woman bows to us.

Ulmar stands, followed by everyone else, and motions everyone to move in the direction of the boat. All the men are silent as they climb aboard the ship. With my heavy bag, climbing the ship has doubled in difficulty.

Oli sees my struggle and tells me to hand over the bag first. He lifts that over and then lends a hand as I pull myself on board. Half of the men take their places at their rightful ores while the other half either stand in the front or the back of the ship.

I try my best to stay out of everyone's way and claw my way up to the front of the ship. Aros and Henrik are among the men that work the ores. This leaves Oli as the only other man I know, and he takes a spot right next to me.

Soon, Ulmar joins the rest of us and the ship is pushed off of the shore.

Next to me, Oli calmly looks out upon the sea. While I want to talk to him and ask why he leaves his family behind, I find it best to keep my mouth shut.

It is only the beginning of a long journey, so I don't want to get on the men's nerves just yet. As designated literate person on board, my job is not to ask questions.

Soon, the boat is far from shore. Too far to turn back now..

Above our heads hangs solid gray clouds, ones that look to be withholding snow. It wouldn't be uncommon to have snow at this time of year, but it would definitely make the trip more difficult.

I slump down behind the wall of the ship, taking my bag from my shoulders and hugging it between my legs.

Oli follows my lead and sits down right at my side. The two of us sit close together for warmth against the wind, and probably comfort as well.

"What do you know about the Orn?" I ask Oli, trying to visualize them in my mind.

"Well," Oli begins, "Compared to us, the Orn is a much more peaceful clan. They don't go on raids very often, which is all fine and good until their income suffers..."

I listen closely as he plays with a piece of fabric on his boot.

"Their jarl, Osmond, is a smart man," Oli continues, "However, he was born the runt. He's not a formidable opponent on the battlefield, so he has to depend on smarts in order to survive."

"But smarts won't get you to Valhalla," a brutish rower interrupts with a scoff.

The man is around my age, but is carries himself with too much pride. His muscles are large, his cheekbones sharp, and he keeps an indifferent scowl across his face.

"You speak so assuredly," I respond calculatingly.

He smirks at me with a hidden anger in his eyes.

"When it comes time for you to be judged by the gods, ask yourself if your ability to read is more powerful than my ability to fight battles for my clan," he says with a smile.

We hold each other's gaze for a long moment before I can think of any more words to waste on him.

As I inhale, Oli shakes my arm and brings my focus back to him.

"Runa," he growls, "Don't mind him. You actually know how to spell your name."

"What's that you said?" the brute snapped, but remained busy rowing.

Oli ignores him and holds my gaze steadily.

"Having you here is an advantage," Oli lowers his voice, "Osmond will appreciate your resources more than he will appreciate any one of us."

I smile, but inside I still focus on what the rower said.

I can use a knife, but I've never had to fight with one. I've never had to kill anyone either. Unfortunately, I don't think I can keep this clean record.

If the Brandr are as fearsome as I've heard, the chances of avoiding physical confrontation are slim. And as I glance around the boat, I soon realize that not many men here would fight for me. They shouldn't have to, and I shouldn't ask them for such a favor.

I certainly wouldn't want to fight for me...

But before worry can completely consume my mind, Ulmar shouts out a command for the rowers to stop. The bitter smell of burning wood bites at our noses like needles.

Something else twinges the air, something that makes it difficult to swallow.

As silence falls upon the ship, a thick mass of fog begins to roll in above our heads.

An uneasy feeling tickles the bottom of my gut as I watch Ulmar stand motionless at the hull of the ship. He holds his stance like a dog on a hunt. Meanwhile, the fog pours in around us.

My eyes move to find Henrik and Aros, who seem to have felt the same sense of uneasiness.

Suddenly, something breaks upon the horizon. I stand, straining my eyes to see what slowly approaches.

It's a busted piece of wood that suffers scorch marks. But it isn't the only one..

Soon, the ship is surrounded by smoking pieces of wooden debris from what I can only assume was a ship. I see no bodies, but the smell tells me otherwise.

We all come upon the same conclusion..

"Brace yourselves," Ulmar hisses, and all the men lower their bodies against the sides of the ship.

I sling my bag on my shoulders and crouch down on the left side while Oli crouches at the right. My father's knives begin to feel hot against my sides and my heart begins to pound against my ribcage like a drum.

My fingers tighten against the wood of the ship and a shiver dances down my spine as Ulmar suddenly knocks on the deck three times.

All of the heads turn to the right; mine just follows what theirs are doing.

But as we all cling to the boat and wait anxiously, the silhouette of a boat breaks the horizon. In front of me, I see numerous men shifting in their seats and grabbing their weapons.

Following suit, I grab a knife and crawl to Oli. He glances at me, then against my wishes, takes my arm and shoves me in the corner.

Before I can respond, he covers my mouth and growls at me, "You are not here."

He throws his cloak over my head, so I am forced to be as silent and still as a rock.

It feels like years before the ships are close enough to see clearly, but I can tell when it is for I hear the jingling of Ulmar standing.

"Don't mind us," a feminine voice from the other ship calls out, "We are just acting for our Jarl."

"Which is?" Ulmar growls.

There is a pause.

"If you already know, why do you ask?" the voice retorts.

No one makes a sound.

"And what do you think you're doing out here?" the voice asks.

"If you already know, why do you ask?" Ulmar says, his voice carrying the tone of a smile.

A small chuckle is carried through the wind.

"You know how to play stupid," the woman smiles, "Well, you won't find anything. We've raided all the towns in that direction."

My gut begins to feel nauseous.

"But here," the woman says, "For your troubles."

She must've thrown something, for I hear an object land on the deck. It rolls to the edge of Oli's cloak, right where my toes hide.

Everything in me wants to rip off that cloak and look at what lays there, but I find myself frozen in fear.

It takes a few minutes before the crew finally relaxes. Oli taps my shoulder and I slowly take the cloak off of my head.

"Runa, I'm sorry for shoving you..." Oli starts, but I'm not listening to what he has to say.

In front of my feet sits a plump, red and gold apple.

On it, just a single bite.