The wind from the sea is much stronger on the shore. I have to keep my skirts clenched tightly in my fists for them not to be a burden.

Repeatedly, my head swings back to check if anyone is behind me, and repeatedly I find no one. Part of me can't believes such a vital ship would be left without a guard, but the rest of me doesn't care if there is a guard or not.

Once close enough to the ship, I let go of my skirts and set my hands upon the wood siding of the vessel. I try my best to stay out of the cold water, but there isn't much I can do to fight it.

Clamping my hands around the edge of the boat, I swing my legs up and quite ungracefully fall into the boat with a thud. 

With a heave, I force myself back up onto my feet and check to make sure no one is on the boat. 

No one is on the vessel, but as soon as I look to the shore, my eyes are met by that of a viken's.

My heart explodes in my chest and this plan of mine seems stupider than ever. He begins to make his way towards the ship as I stand frozen in my own idiocy. 

"I apologize," I say as he hops on deck with ease, "I was not snooping for any reason other than my own.."

"And what reason would that be?" he asks in the voice of a young man, which shocks me.

"W-Well I was just curious," I swallowed, "But I swear--"

"Listen, woman," he interrupts me, glaring at me with dark brown eyes, "You don't have to be afraid. I have no weapons that I would use on you."

He steps towards me while I take a step back. He noticed the step and a small smile tugs at his lips.

"I don't trust you, mister viken--whoever you are," I shake my head, "In fact, I have questions that you must answer while I have you as an audience."

He crosses his arms over his chest and nods at me, "What'll it be?"

"Take your helmet off so I can properly look you in the eye," I demand, "And so I know if you are lying."

The man growls but obliges. He takes the metal piece in his hands and slides it off of his head with ease. 

It is a young man who stands before me, at least my age or more, and he has dark brown hair that is tied back in a ratty braid. His face is dirty, but he is still handsome underneath the grime.

I stare at him, suddenly angry, and clench my fists.

"How old are you? How come you aren't out doing nice, humane things instead of ransacking towns and killing innocent people?" I snap, "You're just a boy!"

He glares at me and steps threateningly towards me.

"I'm nineteen, not that it's your business! How old are you?" he spits back.

I cross my arms and jut my chin out, "Eighteen."

He laughs, "And what do you do all day? Pick apples, tend to sheep, and daydream on a pile of hay?" 

Anger bubbles in my chest, but I can't find anything to rival him.

"And what about your boyfriend?" he sneers, "Shouldn't you be married by now?"

My eyes widen and I step towards in rage. 

"You're the one--" I stammer, "You threw the apple! You've been stalking me!"

His stiff stature turns sheepish as he waves my words away. For the first time, his eyes falter. I know I'm right.

"I do not stalk," the man harrumphs, "I was just minding my own business when that snot-nosed boy of yours followed you into town. I recognized you as Bjorn's daughter, and I couldn't let the fool hit you."

"He is not my boy!" I snap, "And I had the situation under control!"

"Oh, did you?" he laughs out loud, "It didn't look like it..."

He keeps going while I'm at a loss for words. The more and more this goes on, the more rage that fills my stomach. I notice he has a small knife on his hip, one that I could easily steal as he talks.

The next time he blinks, I grab the blade from his hip and knock him down with an elbow square to the chest.

"Ow! What the hell--!"

I keep the knife pointed at him as he stares at me in shock.

"I'm not here to talk silly games with you," I growl, "Tell me your name!"

He watches me with the knife carefully as I allow him to get up slowly.

"My name is Henrik," the young man says earnestly as he brushes himself off, "Henrik Thorneblood."

I recognize the family name and then my glare intensifies.

"You're Ulmar's son," I manage, receiving a nod from him, "Tell me, Henrik Thorneblood, why are you here?"

He inhales to speak, but voices soon come into hearing range. His eyes go hard as they return to me.

"You have to go," he says softly, "There are men coming who will want me to escort you off the ship. I know you have questions, but you will find out more at dinner."

"Oy, Henrik! Who's 'at?" one of the two men approaching shouts. 

"Just someone I caught snooping," He shouts back as he tries to grab the outstretched wrist but fails, "Fine, keep the knife."

The two men are soon close enough to the ship to recognize me as the jarl's daughter.

"Hey! Aren't you Bjorn's little daughter?" one of them says, their voice growing angry, "Did your father send you to spy?"

Henrik jumps off the ship first and then lets me get down alone. 

Once I'm down, I straighten myself out and put the knife at my hip. 

"I came at my own accord," I growl, "For your information."

The men glare at me and then turn to Henrik. 

"As long as you're here, we can escort you back to town," one of them says, "Henrik, your father wants to speak with you."

Henrik nods and we all begin making our way back as a group. 

"So, jarl's daughter, huh?" one of them, the tallest one, asks me. 

I look at him and he tries to smile at me. He's young, but still older than me. He has straight blond hair that sits combed forward on the top of his shaved head.

"Yeah," I answer shortly. 

"Do you get first pick of all the apples?" he goes on to ask, making his companion laugh. All I can do is roll my eyes. 

"Oh yes, and we get the most plump chickens and the purest lambs that our village has to offer," I hiss sardonically, "What a life, to be a jarl's daughter!" 

They stare and end the small talk as soon as it began.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go peel some potatoes," I snap and stomp off angrily in the direction of my home. 

I was so close to getting information out of Henrik that it sends me reeling! I can't even believe he allowed me to hold a conversation with him; I thought he would just force me off the boat without another word. 

Part of me is relieved that he was so talkative with me. The kindness of the vikingrs will save the reputation of my father. Maybe I am not the only one that has conversed with them and seen that they are relatively harmless?

Soon, I arrive at my home and open the door to a buzzing kitchen. My mother's got Kjell and Asta on the potatoes while her and Egil work on baking more bread. 

My younger siblings run around the house in a noisy whirlwind of destruction. My father, meanwhile, is nowhere to be seen. 

"Mother," I say from the doorway, "Where is papa?"

She looks over her shoulder at me; her eyes are glassy from earlier. I want to hug her, but I know I must keep my distance so she can shake it off.

"Last I checked he was in the orchard," she says quickly, and then returns to her bread, "Dinner is at six, Runa. Please be there."

"I will, mama," I respond resolutely. 

For a moment, I stand in the doorway and watch all the chaos of my family. I love our little corner of the world... 

But I can't help feeling that there's more for me. And the arrival of these vikens only bolsters this feeling. 

For now, I push the thoughts out of my mind and make my way in the direction of the orchard.