If Ghylena thought Winchester was too cramped and rotten, then Lunden was 3 times worse.

"They say Lunden is dangerous." Sihtric glanced at his fiancé, worry in his eyes.

Lena simply patted her weapons in reply. Uncomfortable as it may be to carry them all, she wouldn't go anywhere without them. Her bow was strapped across her back, the quiver to match tied at her waist, parallel to the sword that Sihtric had sharpened for her last night.
A dagger was strapped at her lower back, and another stuck to her thigh.
That much weaponry was heavy, so on these occasions, Lena wore only her thin leather armour, no fur in sight.

Her wavy hair was in a new style, Sihtric having braided half of it for her as a sign of their betrothal. Ghylena thought he liked the sign that she was his, but she wasn't about to complain about his slightly possessive nature- not when she found it so attractive.

Finan spoke, "Oh, it is, but Lunden is alive with every kind of life."

"I hear women do not walk the streets unguarded," Sihtric walked in line between Finan and Ghylena, with Uhtred slightly behind them, "That bodies are found in the river, daily."

"Twice daily, with each and every tide." Uhtred strode ahead of the trio now.

"Lunden is not Winchester," Finan explained to Sihtric, "But one year here is worth ten elsewhere."

Ghylena poked Finan in the ribs, "Lived here before, have you?"

"And end up dead in the river? Do I look like a fool?" He balked.
"Do you want my honest answer, Finan?" Lena ducked away before he could retaliate, giggling at his antics as he made a show of mock offense.

<>

Ghylena found the brothers Sigefrid and Erik to be strange; they were clearly intelligent and dangerous, though Erik was the more tasteful of the two whilst Sigefrid had his moments of quick-witted humour.

The Roman Ruins they stood in captivated Ghylena for a moment, in awe of the old cities of a long gone Empire- now there was a power Lena could respect.
Uhtred and the shitwipe Aethelred negotiated whilst Ghylena stood with Finan and Sihtric, enjoying the refreshments given to them.
Lena was simply happy to not be acknowledged as different- she knew she was a woman, she didn't need reminding of that fact every 10 fucking minutes.
Aethelred was fucking annoying on the journey here, hopefully he'll shut up on the way home.

Travelling back to Winchester was indeed quieter than their first journey, with Father Pyrlig joining them now, having fought for his freedom at the behest of Uhtred and won.

Once Uhtred had petitioned King Alfred with his plan of attack for Lunden, (with Erik and Sigefrid declining the offer of silver for their removal from the city), they returned briefly to Coccham.

After Aethelred and his men joined up with Uhtred in Coccham, they went back to Lunden, only this time marching with an army of both Mercian and Wessex soldiers.
Riding between Sihtric and Finan for the journey, Ghylena couldn't help but raise her worry for Aethelflaed and Thyra- whilst she knew the King's daughter would have some instruction in self defense, Thyra was most certainly not built for a battlefield.

"Why does Aethelred insist on bringing his wife to a battle? Surely it isn't safe for her?" She questioned Beocca one day on their journey.

"The Lord of Mercia will ensure Lady Aethelflaed's safety, Ghylena, do not worry. Though, I'll admit, I do worry for Thyra. Even left with a guard, a war camp is no safe place. Uhtred knows this too well."

Ghylena knew what he meant, Uhtred had told both her and Gisela of the Shadow Queen Iseult and her gruesome death.
She frowned, "Perhaps I should stay behind then, just this once? I'm sure it would make both you and Uhtred feel better knowing Thyra is protected. And the Lady Aethelflaed, of course."

Beocca smiled at her gratefully, nodding as he replied, "Yes, thank you Ghylena, that is a most kind offer. You are a fearsome warrior, as I have been reassured. So long as Uhtred can spare your presence."

"My brother will not refuse me, Father, be certain."

<>

It was Thyra's screams of death which alerted Lena of the oncoming army, the vast thundering of hooves shaking the ground on which she stood. She had been feeding Shaeda when she heard the wails and unmistakeable clamouring of a horseback charge.

Jumping on Shaeda's saddle, Ghylena spurred the beast on, desperately screaming out Thyra's name and calling for the Lady of Mercia in equal measure.
It was chaos; hell brought to earth.

Arrows flew through the air.
Shields clashed against shields.
The bloody screams of men and women rose into the sky.

"THYRA! AETHELFLAED! THRYA!" Ghylena bellowed, bow in hand, shooting from Shaeda's back as he kept her safe from soldiers on foot.

Notching arrow after arrow, Ghylena struggled to stay calm, becoming desperate for any sign of Thyra.
Shooting yet another man through his eye, Shaeda suddenly reared back, front hooves in the air. It was all Ghylena could do to stay on horseback, clinging desperately as Shaeda reared and kicked, bashing the soldier into the squelching earth.

Something suddenly struck her in the thigh, and she wailed in pain before gritting her teeth and clutching her leg- her hand came away smeared in blood. She had no time to assess the wound, yet again forced to fight for survival.
Another Dane approached Lena now, eyes lit with a fire of violence, determined to make her his prey. Fumbling for the sword at her waist, she charged Shaeda straight towards him and swung down in a bloody arc which took the mans head.

Finally, she spotted the unmistakeable flash of Thyra's red hair fleeing into the woods, with an unknown woman in pink whom Ghylena had no choice but to pray was the Lady of Mercia.
If it came down to choosing between Uhtred's sister and Alfred's daughter, Lena knew where her loyalties had to lie. Even if Uhtred couldn't make the choice, she would.

Galloping again, Ghylena drove Shaeda through the tree line, hunting after the men who now followed Thyra.

Beocca's wife had split off from Aethelflaed, the women running in separate directions.
Making a split second decision, Lena followed after Thyra.
2 soldiers chased after the flame-haired woman, but the men soon heard Shaeda's explosive gallop and Ghylena's arrow pierced through the heart of the first man in an instant.

Now facing her, the man threw his spear, forcing Ghylena to tumble off her horse, barely dodging the projectile. Shaeda kept moving, unable to slow down in time. Rolling through the dirt, Lena forced herself to stand- her ribs ached from the rough fall, and she knew they would be black and blue tomorrow.
Her thigh burned now, surely coated in dirt and still bleeding profusely, forcing a limp into her gait as she stood.

Dropping her bow, she drew her sword and axe now, one in each hand the way Sihtric had shown her all those years ago.

The man sneered at her, Thyra forgotten behind him as she heaved air into her lungs.
"Bitch," His voice was rough, rasping his lungs, "Perhaps I shall ride you both before I kill you."

Ghylena didn't grace him with a reply, simply growling before launching herself at him, faster than a viper.
She drove forward first with her axe, aiming for his head and forcing him to move into the path of her sword, stabbing him through the stomach.
Her sword lodged in his belly, she pulled her other arm back and swiped angrily at his neck this time, briefly met with the sight of his bloodshot eyes and gurgling lips, before her axe split his neck in two.

Removing her weapons from his corpse, Ghylena panted and shook, desperate to catch her breath as she gasped, "Thyra."

Uhtred's sister was sprayed in the blood of the men Ghylena had killed, so she knew she herself must be drenched in the stuff, but her body felt numb and she could feel nothing, only the adrenaline currently pumping through her.
"Aethelflaed," Thyra croaked and pointed, "Lady Aethelflaed, she ran that way."

Nodding her acknowledgement of Thyra's request, Lena didn't leave the woman until she had mounted her on Shaeda, (who had returned quickly at her whistle), and then sent her back towards camp.
"Find Beocca, find Uhtred. Tell them."

Running in the direction Thyra said Aethelflaed had ran, Ghylena felt hollow.
She was a husk, bloody and battered, and entirely too numb to take account of her injuries. Her leg felt wet. Her chest ached.
She had only one thought and purpose, and in that moment, all that mattered was saving Aethelflaed.

Coming upon a clearing, she managed to catch a glimpse of the Lady of Mercia being dragged away by 4 men- was that Erik and Sigefrid amongst them? Ghylena couldn't be sure.
Seeing their pursuer, 2 men turned around, intent on dealing with the threat. Aethelflaed was now knocked unconscious, her body limp over one Dane's shoulder.
Seeing this, a desperate and agitated cry escaped Ghylena's lips; a sound more suited for a cornered animal.

With her adversaries too close to shoot, she was once again forced to use her axe and sword.
Steeling her core, and drawing her torso low, Ghylena readied to use her speed and small size to advantage.

Once again, like Sihtric had taught her, Ghylena parried away the first swipe of a sword with the handle of her axe, driving her sword up through the gap it created and forcing the first man to stumble backwards swearing.

The second Dane— this one blonde instead of raven-haired— held a shield and axe.
He charged her, knocking the breath from her lungs and her feet from below her.
Hurriedly, she rolled out of the way right as the deadly weapon struck earth, exactly where her head had previously been.
Near-instinctively, Lena let her axe slip from her fingers, instead taking her sword with two hands and dragging its blade across the blonde man's ankles.

He let out a brutish roar of pain, collapsing to his knees, and allowing Ghylena time to clamber to her feet before slitting his throat.

Suddenly, a searing pain blossomed across Ghylena's back, and she reared forward with a yelp, desperately begging her torso to twist in time, and raising her sword in front of her.
The dark-haired Dane looked enraged, his face covered in blood and the deep wound on it clearly being from her first blow.

He too held a sword, but he was clearly in much better condition than her.
Her lungs rattled in her chest, and she struggled to focus.

She knew her thigh was still bleeding.
She knew her ribs were bruised and possibly broken.
She knew her back was injured in some way.

She also knew this man would not hesitate to kill her. Baring her teeth, she let out her loudest war cry, a shrill and reverberating sound that tore her throat.
Clashing together in a song of steel, Ghylena relied heavily on her speed and agility against her opponent's brute force, but she was quickly growing tired.

Batting her sword away after she swung sloppily for his head, he grabbed her wrists in his hand, tossing her onto her back and climbing on top her.
She yelled, thrashing and wrestling against his heavy weight on top of her hips.

He sneered at her— she could see blood in his mouth and eyes— and then he threw both their swords away before wrapping his meaty hands around her throat and squeezing.
Her mouth fell open, a desperate and silent plea for air as she weakly clawed at his hands.

Her eyes began to flutter closed, her hands slipping to the ground on either side of her as the darkness seeped into the corners of her vision.
And then he was gone, her throat opened and air flooded her lungs.

His weight was gone from her hips, and she coughed, scrambling to get away from him.
Crawling on her hands and knees, she turned around to look at his body; her dagger— the smaller one she kept strapped to her thigh— stuck out from deep in-between his ribs, most likely piercing his heart.

His warm blood coated her hand, but it was impossible to know which red was his, and which was hers. Her entire body felt sticky with the metallic stench.

The sudden silence washed over her, overwhelming in comparison to her recent brush with death, and it was too much for Lena: leaning over, she choked and gagged, bile spilling from her mouth as she retched.

She was alive. Alive. Breathing. Whole.
I am alive.

Delirious laughter bubbled from her, the adrenaline eventually depleting. She had to get up, get back to camp.

She had no idea if Thyra ever made it back safely, but she prayed that Uhtred would have returned by now, realising it had been a trap.
Most of all, the only thought that was enough to force her burning body to drag itself upright, was the hope that Sihtric would come for her; that if she could just get back to him, then he could take over, that her part was done for now.

Moaning in pain, she used nearby tree branches as supports for her weight, too exhausted to pick up any of her weapons before leaving the small clearing and stumbling towards the edge of the forest.

If she wasn't so bone-tired, if she wasn't in so much pain, if she had simply turned around once to look behind her, then perhaps Ghylena would have seen it— the amber eyes, the black fur, the hulking figure of the wolf who watched. The wolf she had been tracking for weeks; the lone wolf who had been tracking her.

Word Count = 2330

up next: 'like rotten fruit'...