Always be aware. Always know your surroundings. The moment my blade slashes the flesh of an opponent I'm already reacting to the following two attacks. Protect my back, protect my brother's back, and protect the back of the messenger's. Acting as a unit each one of us take turns protecting the Stag-born messenger. If he dies we might as well turn back home and accept our bloody fates with the Bjorn clan.

Severely outnumber, and combating the darkness — along with the útlagi, we hold our ground, expertly. The more my blade washes in the blood of the outlaws the more the adrenaline spikes throughout my body. It's as if I'm fed through my axe. I react and in tandem also become a vessel for my weapon to feed from each of my victims. While others scream and grunt I fight silently, in a blood-lust trance. Even my breathing is in a tempo and steady. My muscles warm and pulsing, each wave filling my body with a sort of high.

"Tove!" My brother's voice warns as my blade disembowels a man before me, his guts spilling in a crimson mess to the dirt ground. Spinning, I fix my wide eyes to Leif who slams his dual-axes into the shoulders of a wailing Skogarmaor. Leaving the lodged axe he points to the tree line, I follow his line of sight and narrow my eyes to see Anders sprinting towards the woods.

The corner of my lip tug upwards and I turn my body, take aim, and fling my short axe.

It impales in the trunk of a tree merely centimeters in front of Anders face, forcing him to slide to a halt and turns out of breath and covered in blood.

With one last slice, Ultred the smallest of us but just as skilled slices down the last of the outlaws. My hand raises to Anders then my finger curls beckoning the Irishman back from the wood line, "What kind of escape attempt was that, Rottur?" I taunt him and he shuffles back towards the group as we take inventory of the damage.

"Skogarmaor." Gorm muses, crouched next to one of the dead men. "The symbol, here." His hand painted in blood gestures to the brand on the man's forehead. It's a diamond shape rune with the converging two lines extended out, centered on the bandits forehead for all to know of his dishonor.

"This one, as well." Ultred sheaths his sword and confiscates a bow and quiver from the dead lying at his feet.

"They've been banding together somewhere within the forests and pillaging all who attempt to trade with us." Erik informs the rest of us as Anders returns to the group. I click my tongue, scanning the darkness for Hefna, then click louder. "They take anything they can, the goods, weapons, and the horses." Erik adds just as I realize they've taken the mare.

A pang of sadness hits me and I find myself at the wood line searching for any signs of the mare while the voices continue behind me, "How far until we reach Birka?" Leif asks.

I bend down placing my finger tips into a fresh hoof print indented in the spongy moss. Whispers of flapping feathers sound above, so I shoot my narrowed gaze to the trees, finding the raven landing on a branch above.

"From here on horse, a half day's ride—."

"Faen!" Leif curses.

"Hello, little friend." I greet the bird in a hushed voice then return to my scan of the forest floor. Hoof marks carved into the ground scamper into the darkness leading Hefna into the thicker and wilder woods.

"We could track them, the trail leads deeper into the forest." I stand from my crouched position and turn back to the group.

"And then?" Ultred snorts clasping his fists to his narrow hips. With an eye roll I turn back to the face the woods tempted to go off on my own.

"I'm with the berserker." Gorm strokes his long blood-clad beard and wipes his hands onto his trousers. The group cued by the name look to me still lured by dark forest. If Leif wasn't among the group I'd go off alone, without a second thought. But I can't leave his back unprotected. With a growled grunt I grip the hilt of my axe stuck in the tree and rip it out.

"If we track the Skogarmaor we could encounter more groups and therefore be set back by more time. Not to mention potentially being killed ourselves." Erik argues while my head tilts in sudden curiosity at the Irishman. Anders ignores the others and is knelt next to a dead man, chanting words in his mother tongue whilst motioning the shape of a cross with his hand on his upper body.

As the others weigh the decision to go after the raiders or continue on our path I kneel opposite Anders with the dead and bloodied body between us, "You know that does nothing. He's a 'heathen'." By now this exile's spirit is arriving in the realm of Midgard or even the realm below.

"I am bound by God, Lochlannach." The tips of his fingers gently close the eyelids of the man between us.

"Bound?" My astonishment filters across my face.

"Aye." He stands and moves to another dead body and I follow listening to his mumbled words then watch as her performs the ritual again with the cross, then closing the dead's eyes.

"Are you a priest of some kind?" I trail him moving from body to body. His silence is confirmation but I continue to watch him. He fought these men. I saw him fight ruthlessly, without mercy, half chained. But, now strangely he focuses on each of the dead with soft mutterings.

The more time I spend with this Irishman the more I begin to like his strangeness. Yes, he tried to kill me and came very close to it. But just as the wolves in these forests, I am intrigued in understanding them despite the possibility of being ripped to shreds.

Again, the soft whispers of wings pull both our attention from the body between us and up to the raven watching us quizzically. "Bloody bird." Anders returns to his business of the ritual.

I half-laugh, "At least the bird will have a good meal tonight," I motion to the body between us, "seasoned with a bit of Christian faith."

Anders glares at me and I manage to keep my laugh caged and instead stand and return to the others aiding Leif with his decision.

Ultred says, "Time is of the essence, Jarl. We should continue on to Birka, there we can resupply and meet with Jarl Guttar. If we go off searching for these pillagers who knows how long we will be set back."

Leif nods twice his jaw flexing as he considers, "Tove?" He asks me surprising everyone including myself.  His eyes drink in the sight of me making me aware of the gore sprayed head to toe on my body. "What do you say? I want your opinion."

"Birka. We should make for Birka. Ultred is right. We are in a race against time."

"Then gather what we can from the bodies. Only what we require, we need to travel light and with haste." Leif orders and we scatter looting the bodies for weapons and essentials. Following our guide, Erik, from the main trade trail we enter the forest and I cast a look over my shoulder to the raven dropping from the branch and landing on one of the dead bodies claiming it as it's own.

<><><>

We travel quickly and silently. Moving through the forest like shadows. The closer we move to Birka the warmer the air seems. Soon I've discarded the thick furs an I'm down to only my grey tunic synched around my waist with my thick leather belt. As we travel I had removed the rabbit-pelt lining of my wrist guards and boots.

By midday, as the sun blazes in the sky we've all discarded our heavy furs and remain in our leathers and light linens. Sweat seeps from our pours and with each step we're reminded of just how long ago we had a proper drink of something that wasn't tapped from a tree.

Hours pass and our bodies begin to ache for rest, and by the gods as the sun begins to touch the peaks of the distant mountains, we stumble upon the sweetest sight of our journey.

"Thank the gods!" Gorm howls and breaks into a heavy sprint down the yellow grassy knoll. He sheds his tunic, then his belt with his heavy weapons and begins on his trousers just as Erik and Ultred take off after him towards a glassy large lake.

Pulling the neckline strings on my tunic I take an excited step forward—.

"What are you doing?" Both Leif and Anders gasp.

I answer their matching expressions of horror with a snorted laugh, "I'm going swimming."

They both stammer then Leif shoots back, "I'm not watching your slave while you frolic around naked in the water with three men."

My excitement is expelled with a growled sigh and Leif grins happily ear to ear, "Such a shame. You could have let me kill him too." He brushes passed removing his tunic and waltzing off proudly towards the water where the others dive and drink as they swim.

"Come on, then." I mutter clasping the chain leading from the collar around Anders neck to his wrist and stalk off towards the water. "I'm thirsty."

Thanks for reading! I'll try to post more Monday.