“You can fight all you want, but your days are numbered.” He pins me to the tree and watches me struggle to get away from his grasp. Not kissing me or trying to make me submit, but holding me there to show he is more powerful. To make me never forget this moment.
“Let me go,” I force the words out.
“I can be kind, but you have to earn my kindness,” He drops me onto my knees. The snow numbs my hands, constricting the slit in my palm until I don’t feel anything. Reaching through the slush, my fingers hit a rock and pick it up. Regaining my footing, I see Harald already turning around, making it the perfect time to swing.
“Did you hear that?” he asks, as if he wasn’t just threatening mywomanhood. My hunting skills click into place, and I hide my hand, holding the rock in the swaths of the cloak. The clash of metal on metal rings out through the forest. Looking at Harald for a split second, I am glad he is the Jarl, and this is his problem, but he doesn’t move.
“Shouldn’t we see what’s happening?” I ask, dropping the rock and tying my cloak to prevent the icy wind from further numbing my skin.
“Vikings get drunk and fight. I’m sure it is nothing,” he casually answers. I watch him look down the row of the solid pine wall to where the gate is, waiting for a glimmer of starlight reflecting off a blade or the warning bell in the guard tower.
I don’t move a muscle, expecting to hear shouts or footsteps. My ears strain to listen while Harald marches off to his stronghold. As I turn to fain dutiful behavior, I hear the awful, guttural sound of an animal in pain.
“Harald,” I whisper, but he’s already gone. The animal cries again, and my heart fractures. Nothing makes that noise unless they are close to dying. I’ll be dutiful tomorrow.
Harald will be furious because I am not following him to the feast. Leaving the Yule Log burning, I bolt down the perimeter, looking for an opening in the wall where I hear the crying animal. I don’t know this village like I know mine. Holding up the cloak and the dress so I don’t trip over every icy rock and snow drift, I wait to hear another sound.
This time the sounds of fighting urge me on. Thinking better of running toward danger unarmed, I find my knife in the pocket of my cloak and take a wider path around where I last heard the scuffle of bodies. The evergreen trees closer to the gate make it impossible to see the night sky, and suddenly, I am enveloped in the shadows of the wall.
Turning back the way I came, I squint to look for the tall flames of the Yule log, hoping it will guide me back. Realizing this is a fool’s errand and I have no business trying to break up a fight in the middle of the woods, I look for the path back, and in an instant, I am pummeled by fur and claws.
2
RASHA
Fear fills me to the brim as I hit the deep snow and sharp rocks. Using every ounce of my strength, I push the crazed animal off my body. I roll to my side, but the heavy creature comes for me again. Massive paws and curved claws rip through my dress as I kick against the solid, furry mass. Trying to get to my feet, I feel no pain but hot and sticky blood coats my hands.
“Stop,” I say through my teeth. I don’t want to anger Harald or Jorvik with my foolishness. Screaming out here in the dark will certainly get me in trouble or worse. Men from the gate are rushing into the forest, and I need to move in between longhouses to stay unseen.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I add, willing my panicked breathing to still. An animal’s instinct to survive runs off fear. My ability to stay calm is what makes me a good hunter, and maybe if I can get this particular animal to relax, we can either part ways, or I can help it.
Adjusting my eyes to the shape of the prowling animal across from me, I slowly walk backwards in between two longhouses. Wisps outlining its ears and bright amber eyes follow me from side to side as I drop my knife in the snow. It’s a lynx, but not like any I’ve everseen. Three times the size of the lynxes I’ve seen out in the mountains or snagging chickens out of the village coop, this lynx cannot be from this world. Raised, thick fur glows in the moonlight, revealing a deep, long gash in its side.
“Is that what all the commotion was? Were you eating an awful bastard? Or did they attack you?” Speaking in an even tone, I don’t get any closer or move away as I wait for it to decide what it wants to do. “Freya is flanked by two lynx. Are you supposed to be a sign?” I ask another absurd question, and the great animal stops in its tracks. Winded from running and fighting, its legs shake until it lays down a few feet away from me.
Now what, Rasha?
My useless morality urges me on in this strange endeavor. Carefully, I move through the snow toward the lynx, trying to see if any of the men from the attack are still at the gate or if anyone has come to look for me. But all is quiet.
I’ve killed many animals with bows, my axe, or various pointed blades. Always doing what is necessary to make the kill quick and painless. We make sacrifices and offerings to the gods before our hunts and bless our feasts when we return with full sleds. Putting the lynx out of its misery should come naturally. I take a breath, settling my uneasy chest, and another feeling stirs in the dormant depths of my heart.
“You’re very pretty. If Freya heard my prayer and sent a sign, you must be a girl?” I ask, sweetly. Kneeling down beside her, I gather my torn dress and finish ripping off a section where her claws separated the seams. Her huge amber eyes track the smallest movements. “I am going to help you, but we can’t stay out here,” I explain, as if she can understand.
Taking the strips of the heavy cotton dress, I don’t look at her while I press my makeshift bandages into her wound. A ground shaking growl escapes her strong jaws, but she doesn’t move.
“We can’t leave a trail of blood, or they will find you,” I keep talking as I work to close the wound. Taking a loose pine branch, I sweep our footprints away, covering our tracks. Burying the bloodiedsnow deep against the crust of the earth as my fingertips grow numb..
“Rasha!” Joanna’s voice wafts through the trees. The lynx perks up, moving her massive paws to right herself. She instantly turns her head and tries to lick the bandages.
“Don’t do that,” I scold, quickly using my hands to make sure the bandages are still tight. The move, unfamiliar to the wild animal, causes her to stumble away, showing me her sharp fangs.
“Rasha!” Joanna calls for me again. We both turn towards her voice, and I sense the lynx raise her back fur. I need a plan, and I need it now.
“Walk with me?” Asking the lynx to follow my lead is about as useful as talking to the flames. She lays back down in the snow listening to the wind carry Joanna’s calls. I have no choice but to walk back through the frozen path where I find Joanna with a frightened look on her face.
“What happened?”
“Katrine is already on a man’s lap, and I didn’t know where you were. Harald came in demanding a drink. I…” Joanna looks at me in horror. Her brown eyes widen at the mess of my dress.
