The next day, I awake to the sound of a crisp knock upon my door. My voice, shot from the tears and screams, was unable to answer before the door opened and a small maid walked in with a bucket of warm water and some cloths. 

"Hello, miss," the maid says cheerily, "The jarl requests I run a bath for you."

I look at her through my tired, swollen eyes and nod numbly. She looks at me with pity in her eyes; it makes me want to cry even more.

Two more maids enter with buckets of steaming water in their hands and then transfer the water into the wooden tub sitting in the adjacent corner of the room. Soon, the tub is ready and it is only the maid and I left in the room.

She waits in silence as I strip out of the old clothes and then wade into the tub slowly. I sit with my knees tucked and my back facing her, but only one arm in the water. The other arm, the branded one, sits propped against the rim of the tub. 

As the maid begins running water through my hair, I hear her inhale to speak.

"The jarl has told me that you are not from here," she speaks soft yet pryingly, "You are from Aebelgården?"

I nod stiffly.

"Is it beautiful there?" she asks, receiving yet another silent nod.

"What made you leave?" she inquires as she gently pours water on top of my head.

I want to glare at her, to tell her to mind her own business and leave me to wash in peace... But I contain my attitude and withhold my response.

She stops asking questions and then pours some kind of oil over my shoulders and scalp. The oil smells of rosemary and lavender, two scents that remind me of my mother...

The rest of the bath is silent, and doesn't last very long. Once I'm out, she combs my hair and braids it down my back. When she's done her part, she grabs her bucket and leaves.

I take my leave of the bath, trusting they'll be back to empty it, and begin dressing myself in the next batch of clean clothes that comes out of my father's bag.

He had packed all of his clothing, so I'm stuck with clothes that hang just a tad loose. I dress in a clean undershirt, a brown tunic, and a pair of trousers, all tied together with a leather belt tied at my waist.

As I get ready for the day, I slip my boots on over the trousers and arm myself with my stolen knife. My father packed two knives as well, but I left those in the bag for later. He also packed a number of apples and some bread, which I left for another time as well.

I don't know if Ulmar had anything planned for the day, so I leave the leather-bound book under the sheets of my bed. 

Once I'm ready to leave, I make it a point to shut the door silently behind me. I don't want to call any attention to myself, knowing Henrik is right next door.

When he enters my mind, I begin to feel a wave of bitterness towards him. He didn't even warn me about last night... I expected him to do something, to help make it easier in any way... But I got my hopes up.

Silently, I make my way down the hall, into the main corridor, and out of the front door of the building.

The town of Deildara is already buzzing. In the air, the smell and sound of a blacksmith at work floats around. As I pass houses, I can hear people talking, singing, and even shouting.

For a moment, I feel as if I'm back at home. The atmosphere of this colony nearly mirrors that of Aebelgården, and I find myself shocked. Here I was thinking that Vikings lived in some sort of anarchist society without any sense of structure. 

Soon, I find myself in the middle of town. A few children run around here and there, but for the most part the town buzzes with the activity of working adults. 

As I stand there at the center of everything, a gentle tap caresses my shoulder. Instead of groaning like I want to, I turn and find myself face-to-face with one of friendly vikings from the ship.

"Hey there," he smiles, his front teeth gapped in the middle, "Runa, right?" 

I nod to him, surprised he's even taking the time to speak to me.

"My name is Olvir," he smiles widely, "But you can call me Oli."

He reaches his hand out for a shake and I take it with a small smile. His personality is nothing like I had imagined it to be. He's much warmer than I ever expected.

"How's your arm?" he asks, his blue eyes turning down rather sadly.

I glance down at it, having momentarily forgotten about it, and then meet his eyes again. 

"It hurts," I answer curtly, "But I will be okay."

He forces a sad smile but then lifts up his sleeve to show his own forearm. Upon it lies the same brand, only healed.

"On the bright side, we're matching!" he grins, making me smile involuntarily. 

Suddenly, a baby runs past his feet. The man swoops down and catches the child by the sides, making them laugh in glee.

"What is my little man doing?" Oli teases as he nuzzles the child. A young blonde woman joins his side and looks at me with kind eyes.

"Runa, this is my wife Aslog and son Haluk," Oli introduces me, his eyes gazing lovingly into the face of his wife.

I smile at her and turn my eyes to the child in his arms.

"Nice to meet you both," I say warmly, "You have a beautiful family."

"Þakka fyrir*," Aslog beams at me.

Oli sets down their son and Aslog pulls him over to the blacksmith's corner. Oli holds Haluk's hand in his protectively; Haluk isn't old enough to play with the other children just yet.

I want to watch them more, but another tap on the shoulder grabs my attention.

"Yes?" I answer as I turn, and soon am met with a familiar gaze.

"I see you met Oli," Henrik begins, his dark eyes scanning me in secret.

"Yes," I respond coldly, "He seems like a wonderful man."

Henrik notes my attitude and his eyes suddenly soften. He reaches for me, but I instinctively back away. 

Henrik frowns, his eyes boring into mine, and asks, "How is your arm?"

I clench my jaw for a moment and then lower my eyes sullenly, not in the mood to argue with him at the moment.

"It really hurts," I answer frankly, "I can't imagine you have it, too."

"Everyone in the crew has the ansuz," Henrik answers with shrug, "I guess you could say you're officially one of us now."

I raise my eyebrows, forcing myself to hold back all the bitter things I would like to say. 

"I really should go read some more," I say, desperately trying to get out of this conversation, "You know... so I can help on the journey..."

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and nods curtly, "Oh, of course. See you around."

I hold my breath as I scurry away from him, then breathe a heavy sigh of relief once he's out of ear shot. Halfway up the hill, I stop and check behind me to make sure he isn't watching. Henrik is gone from his place and no one else in town seems to pay me any mind... I suppose now would be a good time to explore the area on my own. 

Without further thought, I stray from the cobblestone path and into the forested mountains surrounding the town. 

My feet carry me over fallen trees, tall weeds, and jagged rocks as I explore the new territory. While it all looks the same as home, it doesn't feel the same at all. At home, the twigs didn't hurt as much and rocks were much softer. 

Here, however, the twigs stabbed into my shins and the rocks tried to pierce through the soles of my shoes. Here, everything feels like an attack.

Soon, I find myself far enough from the town that I can no longer see it. I can no longer see anything but the trees and the blue sky above me. Away from the town, I feel much more confident.

While I walk, I think about home. By now, I'm sure my father and mother have accepted the fact that I've gone and are trying to make the best of it for my younger siblings. 

I don't know if they think I'll survive this or not. I don't even know if I'll survive this or not...

As I walk through the forest reflectively, I come upon a small clearing with a cloudberry bush. 

Most of the bush is picked over by the birds and other wildlife, but I still spare a look into the browning leaves of the plant. I shift my weight from foot to foot as I move around the bush curiously. 

With the search turning fruitless, I turn to step in the direction I once was going. However, as soon as my foot lands upon the ground, a rope snaps around my ankle.

A gasp escapes me as I am pulled to the ground and dragged against the dirt. in my head, I immediately assume that this is how I'm going to die. 

A few feet ahead, a spear sits tied to the trunk of a tree with the blade facing me. My head begins to thrum with adrenaline and now, I'm sure I'm going to die.

Desperately, I grab the knife from my hip and begin sawing at the rope. Anxious sweat breaks out on my palms and forehead and my grip on the hilt suffers. 

The spear grows closer as the dragging becomes faster. I accidentally slice a hole into my boot while getting the blade between my skin and the rope, but I don't care. With a forceful snap, the knife cuts through the rope and leaves me sitting in the dirt.

I breathlessly watch as the rope disappears into the brush. My mind still races as I put my knife away and stand, my hands and legs shaking uneasily. 

Suddenly, from behind the bush jumps two young boys with knives in their hands. They shriek at me, their faces covered with mud and their hair dreaded in braids. 

Instead of flinching, I grab my knife and wave it at them warningly.

"Don't come any closer!" I growl at them, "Heimta*!"

They approach me slowly, but don't look as though they will attack. I keep my arms out at my sides, however, just in case. They watch me take slow steps back with eyes that gleam.

Before I can move any further, a hand clamps down on my branded arm and I scream out in pain. The hand presses into the wound and the blood begins to drain from my face. 

The hand releases me and my knees crumble beneath me. My knife falls to the ground next to me and one of the young boys grabs it while the other runs behind me.

Though the hand no longer holds it, my wound burns as if it is happening all over again. All I can do is look at it with hot tears in my eyes and hold it close to my chest. 

I turn onto my back to face my threat and rise shakily to my knees. We all look at one another for a second before anyone acts.

It's a small group made of both young boys and young men. They stare at me as though they're surprised at who they just ensnared...

Then my eyes find the one that leads them. He's got dirty blond hair that's shaved on either side of his head, and his eyes glow a bright blue. The smallest hint of facial hair grows upon his jaw and he wears an angry scowl upon his face.

"A woman?" he gapes.

"Does it matter?" I snap, still holding my wounded arm close. 

He glances back at the group behind him, all of them carrying large weapons in their arms, and then returns his gaze to me as I stand up weakly.

"Return to your posts," the leader coughs gruffly. 

Seconds later, the entire group disperses back into the brush, leaving me and the leader staring at each other in silence.

"I apologize," the man smirks, his eyes glaring through his eyebrows, "We set this trap for big game."

"I can tell," I growl, "You are with the Ira?" 

"Yes, and you're Runa Öman," his brows raise, "I was there last night at the banquet. You are from Aebelgården?"

I stare at him and nod, astounded that he even cares to ask.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

"As if you don't already know," I swallow, noticing how he leans in closer to me every time he speaks, "Who are you?"

The young man tilts his head back and the smirk reappears on his face. "Aros Raske," he holds his hand out to me.

I inspect his hand and then take his forearm in my palm. We shake briefly and let go, our right hands falling to our sides after. 

"May I see your wound?" Aros' eyes drop to my arm and then back to me.

The wound has returned to its normal level of pain, thankfully, however I am still wary to let him handle it. 

Hesitantly, I roll up the sleeve of my tunic and show him the brand. He takes my arm in his fingers and then shakes his head.

"Nasty thing," Aros mutters, "When it begins to bubble, you must not cover it."

I didn't know it would bubble... A sharp pang of fear grips at me and I take my arm from him hastily.

"It will bubble? How do you know?" I demand, my voice trembling slightly.

His eyes crinkle at the sides and he begins to roll up his sleeve. Upon his skin lies the same brand as I. 

"So you're part of the viking as well," I sigh, "Does that mean you will be accompanying us to find the stones?"

Aros smiles and shrugs, "Wherever a fight needs to be fought, I will be there."

I take his vague answer as a confirmation. As I inhale to speak, a horn is blown, catching both of our attention. Aros' ears prick to the sound and he begins edging towards the end of the clearing.

"I must go continue the hunt," he smirks at me and stops halfway through the brush, "See you around."

I don't respond. All I can bring myself to do is walk back in the direction of town.

----------

* Thank you.

¹ Get back!