FIREWOOD CRACKLED AND SPIT. Low voices murmured in a language completely unfamiliar to her. Lying prostrate on her side, Ella kept her eyes closed. Alarmingly, her wrists and ankles had been bound. Warmth from the fire brushed across her face. She kept still and tried to remain calm as she considered her next move.

Twisting her hands to feel for the bonds at her hands, she was terrified to find they were leather. If they had been basic plastic zip ties, she might have been able to do something about it. She had read an article about slipping out of those. But who carried leather straps around? She wished to God she had taken that optional self defense course instead of blowing it off in favor of trivia competitions at a local dive bar in town.

The nearby conversation was completely foreign to her, the words harsh and spoken by men. She listened hard, trying to recognize their nationality. As she did, an odd change came over her. The rush of blood in her ears almost sounded like river water, bringing to mind the odd song she had heard on the river bank.

The men's words shivered and melded into sense. Suddenly, she could understand them even though they were still speaking in a foreign language. She was too stunned to make sense of the phenomenon. Maybe she had been hit harder on the head than she'd originally assumed.

"... and what do you call this kind of metal? It isn't wood. What kind of crown is this?"

A man made a low sound in his throat. "It's like nothing we've seen anywhere on this island."

"Were any of those sniveling nobles from Northumbria wearing something like this?"

Ella realized that the plastic crown was gone from her throbbing head. It was a cheap thing with rhinestones, nothing extraordinary. It was the kind found at dollar stores for kids alongside nylon fairy wings and light-up wands. What was so fascinating about it?

She dared peek open one eye, only a crack to get her bearings. With her ankles tied, there was no way that she could make a run for it. But maybe she could find something else to help her escape.

Temples throbbing, she tried to focus on the scene. A campfire roared right in front of her. Beyond the flames, she could make out four, hulking figures, but they were barely visible outside the perimeter of light. They were huddled around her crown, passing it between them and musing over it.

"She's certainly no peasant girl. Well fed body with a set of strong teeth, look at what the vixen did to me!" One of them protested, displaying her bite marks his hand like a war wound.

If she wasn't so frightened with a nightmare of a headache, she might have laughed at his shock and derision.

"And look at that dress. Strangest material. Rich to be sure. Do you think that she might be-"

"She might. She might. I'd bet money on it. Why else would a Saxon noblewoman be running through the forest in the middle of the night?"

"What else was in that satchel that she held?"

Her captors proceeded to fumble through her purse. Ella opened her eyes fully, but didn't move a muscle. One of the men turned in the firelight and his face came into view.

He was middle aged with a close shaved head, strange tattoos decorating his fuzzy scalp. A full beard was decorated with braids and a single, glass bead at the end of the longest plait. Piggy eyes in a full face squinted as he dug into her bag, his brow drawing low in consternation. He pulled out a tube of pink lip gloss and held it over his head, wrinkling his nose.

He appeared as perplexed by the cosmetic as she was by her captor's appearance. They were all dressed in padded, cloth over shirts like poor excuses for bullet proof vests. The tallest one, with long pale hair shot through with silver, wore a cape lined in dark fur. They were all formidable with scars and sneers as they thumbed through her things.

"Must be royalty. What peasant woman would keep so many useless trinkets on her?"

The giant tore open a tampon wrapper and took apart the applicator with a dumbfounded expression on his broad face.

"We'll ask Thorvid what he thinks when he returns."

"Would you look at that, the maid stirs."

Ella froze as all three turned in her direction, various objects in their hands. One of them held her wallet and passport booklet.

"Please," she croaked, throat dry from the smoke. "Take it all. I have... cash in there and my debit card. But nothing else. Just let me go. I'm worth nothing."

The captor that she had bitten gave a wolfish grin. "I'm not so certain of that, Saxon."

Her stomach turned to a rock as they moved towards the fireside. One of them held up the crown.

"Long way from home, eh?"

Ella fought back a surge of tears. "Yes."

"Coming down from the north, I expect. A fine bred noblewoman like yourself. Not safe in these parts."

Ella blinked up in confusion. The tall one cocked a pale eyebrow as though he knew all her secrets, pale hair tumbling over his meaty shoulders as he leaned over her.

"I think you're confused-"

"Do you now?"

"Y-yes, I'm not from the north of England. Or England at all. I'm an American."

The man's mouth quirked into a baffled frown. "A what?"

Before she could respond to his inexplicable question, the men turned as two more figures strode into the camp.

"Thorvid! Look what we found! And she bit me too!" The bald headed captor declared stupidly.

"And she was wearing this."

The crown was handed over to the newcomer. Whoever this young man was, the others gravitated towards him as their leader. He smirked, turning the crown over in his large hands.

"I suppose the gods do have a sense of humor."

He twirled it around a finger then crouched. As he slipped out a knife from his boot, she flinched back.

"I mean you no harm, my lady." He held up his hands in a placating gesture. With a quick movement, he sliced the bonds at her wrists. The metal skimmed her skin, but left her unscathed. "I only ask the truth. Lies will do you no good. You are the Princess Aethelthryth of Northumbria, hmm? I am most curious... how is it you have managed to make it so far south?"

Sitting up slowly to look him in the eye, Ella considered her options. She could be insane, but that was unlikely. She had been sad about getting Ryan's letter, but she had been a really healthy place emotionally since arriving in England. This wasn't a mental breakdown.

Maybe she had been roofied with some kind of hallucinogenic drug. That might be possible. But she hadn't consumed anything since the debacle with the green dress earlier in the day.

She recalled the river's strange song and the heavy fog. It had been like something out of a dream. Maybe that was it. She could be sleeping and experiencing a lucid dream.

Or maybe she had tumbled back into another time as she had fantasized so many times. Quietly, she studied the young man crouched in front of her for clues.

His head was shaved though he wore a full, sandy beard. Wide set, expressive eyes contemplated her in cool discernment while a wistful smile didn't reach his appraising gaze. He was staring at her like a business man calculating the bottom line of a hefty contract where he was the beneficiary.

A raven tattoo curled up the side of his thick throat over a cowl neck tunic. He wore the same thickly padded overshirt as the others like a crude piece of armor.

It was his necklace that gave her pause. On a leather cord, a ornament hung over his breastbone. She had seen enough Marvel movies to know Thor's hammer on sight.

Northumbria...

During one of their museum tours in the city of York, they had learned about the various kingdoms that governed the island during the Dark Ages. The name sounded eerily familiar.

Wetting her lips, she decided to play the one card that she had. She had studied acting for nearly three years. If this was some trick of fate and she truly had fallen through time, this could be the performance of a lifetime. Or she could very well be playing for her own life.

Ella dipped her eyes down as she wrung her hands on her lap. "You know my name, but who are you? These men follow you. Are you their leader?"

Jutting out his chin, he bowed his head. "Well, in a way. Though I serve my older brothers directly, as they are the head of our army. Perhaps you've heard of them? Ivar and Halfdan Ragnarsson?"

"And you are... a Viking?"

He crooked an eyebrow. "What?"

Of course. Viking was an adjective back then for attacking and looting, not a noun like it was in her time. Ella's thoughts scrambled back to that museum tour they had taken in York. Any detail might help.

"Danes. You are a Dane?"

He nodded slowly. "I am called Thorvid. Are you frightened?"

"Yes," she answered directly, drawing a shaky breath that wasn't a part of her act.

"Good." He clapped a hand on her shoulder as though she were a good buddy. "This is good. We do not need any lies between us. I will always be honest with you, princess. Things may become difficult for you, but you may always trust that what I tell you is the truth."

Ella nodded hesitantly as he patted her arm with a confident grin then rose to his feet and turned to his comrades. Of course, there was no way she could ever promise him the same. Thankfully, he hadn't requested it.