Our story begins 18 years later in a humble farming colony called Aebelgården, located in the western region of Scandinavia. Aebelgården was home to nine families, the largest of which was the Öman family. Bjorn and Ingrid were the parents of Runa, Asta, Liv, Egil, Kjell, Rodolf, Willem, and Gerda. Runa, the eldest, was 18 years old....

Sun filters through the bright green foliage of the orchard as a gentle yet prickly wind slithers through the trees. The smell of dirt and hay emanate from the earth below my feet as I raise to my toes. 

Carefully, I grasp a golden red apple above me and pluck it from the tree. My hands, though young, are rosy and dry from the cold. The same pink shade colors my nose, cheeks, and lips. Autumn has come and my body feels it's teeth.

I work in the orchard alone. This is my afternoon practice, while the morning is for tending to the farm animals. Every day, I wake up to the sound of a cock crowing. Every night, I go to bed surrounded by the faint breathing of my six siblings. 

When it gets cold, however, we fall asleep to the howl of the wind against our home. When frost sets in, we are lucky to have so many people sleeping in one room. 

Soon, the woven basket on my side is full of the best apples from the orchard. This will be some of the last apples of the year, so I go to the stream just beyond the orchard to wash them and make them look extra clean. 

Apples are the main export of my town, so it is important to all of the families here that our harvest is pure and healthy. My father, Bjorn, is the leader of this town. As his children, my siblings and I have been given the task of being exemplary workers for the other children to look up to. 

When I was younger, I took to working easily because I didn't know much else. However, when my father taught me how to read, the world seemed a lot larger. The more I read, the more dimension this life came to have.

While I'm careful to express that feeling to my family, I think about traveling all the time.

As I sit by the stream, the cold water running over my fingers as I dunk the apples, a sudden chill goes up my spine. The long grasses of the prairie beyond the town sway softly, as if something has moved.. Perhaps a rabbit?

My fingers retract from the stream as I stand and cross, going up a small hill to look out at the prairie.

Ahead of me lies an empty field, but the uneasy feeling doesn’t go away. 

Suddenly, the town horn is blown. 

My eyes widen instinctively and I take my skirt in my fists. As quickly as I can, I hop over the stream and run through the orchard back into town.

Other people have exited their houses in curiosity. Seems I'm not the only one that's confused. As I slow down to a gallop, I see a gathering in the middle of the street. 

My father stands with some kind of hoard in front of him. A murmur sails through the town with the breeze before I even realize who it could possibly be. 

But when I see the man in front of my father with an axe tied on his back, I realize.. They're vikingrs*.

My stomach twists and I clench my fists to hide my nerves. Slowly, I make my way to stand behind my father. When I try to lay my hand upon his frail shoulder, he brushes it away.

"Introduce yourself," Bjorn states calmly.

The man with the axe strapped to him steps forward with a lopsided smile. His hair is the color of fire, and it collects on his jaw to form a large, scraggly beard. His stature is almost twice as wide as my father, making him look even weaker.

My father is no weak man, but he is no longer in his prime. He used to be a great worker, but all the years of work have warped his body and made his left leg almost entirely useless. With him, he keeps a cane made of the wood from an apple tree.

"My name is Ulmar Thorneblood," the big man states, bowing his head, "My men and I are from the Ira clan, just north of your peaceful village. We come in peace."

The cadence of his voice is trustworthy, contrasting his sly and mangy appearance. 

"Peace?" my father smirks, "Do you know the meaning of the word?"

The man called Ulmar blinks and smiles slowly, his wind-worn cheeks bending like old leather.

"We are hear to make a proposition, good man," Ulmar huffs, "Won't you welcome us?"

I try gently grabbing my father's arm, but he brushes me away once again. I am dreading his answer.

"Our town hall is open to you and your men," Bjorn replies, "There, your men can eat and sleep. You, Ulmar, may eat with my family.. There, we will discuss this proposition."

My eyebrows reach to the sky in shock, but there's no way I could argue with him now without embarrassing him greatly. 

Ulmar smiles beneath his facial hair.

"Magnificent."

My father turns and looks to me with glazed eyes.

"Runa, show them to the hall," he nods at me.

Bjorn makes his way back in the direction of the house, leaving me staring in shock at the vikingrs. I'm so surprised that I can't even register what I'm supposed to do.

The hoard of vikingrs gaze at me mercilessly, as though I'm some stupid maid. I suppose to them, I am a stupid maid.

Without further ado, I clench my fists and clear my throat. 

"Fylgjaª," I spit at them and turn on my heels. I have to hold my tongue in order to avoid cursing out these disgusting vikingrs.

As soon as I reach the hall, I open the doors allow them in. Many of them give me interesting stares, somewhere between glares and smirks.

"Gjǫr munu þjóna í sexº," I growl. I watch sourly as they all began unpacking their things and making their way around the hall in curiosity. One of the vikingrs repeatedly look at me as my gaze wanders the room. 

The leader, Ulmar, approaches me and I force myself to look him in the eye boldly.

"Will you retrieve me at dinner time? My men and I do not know our way around the town," he says to me with a devilish smile.

Some of the men in the room murmur and snicker, making my stomach churn and my face grow hot.

"Já,²" I force out. 

In silence, I leave the hall. As soon as the door shuts, I hear them laughing. 

My blood is boiling.

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* vikingr: a person that takes part in a viking 

ª "Follow me."

º "Food will be served at six."

² "Yes."