There was a howl from inside the longhouse, and then several shaking thuds as Sten threw himself against the door.
‘Stay, Sten!’ she yelled, even as she poked erratically at the wolf with her flames, retreating backwards one step at a time, so as not to expose her back.
The wolf’s eyes were glassy, its sharp teeth dripping with white foam. Its body was skinny and sunken in the belly. Embla dared not look away, even for a moment. The poor animal was obviously mad with disease and hunger, a terrifying combination...for her.
Her heel hit the back of the first stair, and she let out a sob of relief, although it was short-lived. With trembling feet she began to climb, trying to remember how many steps there were...four or five? She could not remember.
The wolf continued to stalk her, its head swaying with every movement she made, as if calculating the best moment to strike. She fumbled at her belt, and felt her small eating knife hanging in its sheath. The blade was no longer than her tallest finger, but it was still better than nothing.
She unsheathed it with her free hand and retreated up another three steps.
All she needed to do was get into the cabin and bolt the door. It would lose interest eventually and slope off... At least, she hoped it would, but cold fear dropped like a stone in her stomach.
Would Runar arrive home in the darkness to face a wolf at his door?
The wolf snarled, and she focused on the present danger in front of her. At least Runar had weapons and was a skilled hunter. She could barely chase a hen without losing her breath or falling over. Runar would be fine!
Besides, it would be better to worry about that later, when she was safely inside!
The wolf was at the bottom of the steps now, and beginning to hunch down in a disturbing way, as if it were preparing to leap. But she was at the top of the stairs, so the door should only be a few feet behind her. She kicked back at the door with her foot, but it was further away then she had expected and she only struck air. She took another step back and tried again, but her slippers had so little grip she slipped on the ice as soon as she thrust her leg back.
It was as if the world slowed down to watch her miserable end. Her body sailed backwards helplessly, and she saw the light of her torch twinkle prettily in the icicles hanging from the porch overhead, flashing with flame as if they were lit from within.
But then the world jerked forward once again, and she winced as her body thudded against the door with a heavy bang. The weight of her body broke the latch and forced it open with a crack.
However, her fall was sadly not complete. She had no hope of regaining her footing and so she slumped to the ground. She landed hard on her bottom with a winded groan, her head flopping backwards into the now open doorway. Thankfully, the strength of her neck and elbows stopped it from cracking against the floor and splitting her skull in two.
The torch fell to the side of her, hissing as it hit the icy deck, threatening to extinguish and leave her exposed in the darkness.
Two shadows leaped: the grey wolf in front of her, and the dark brown smudge of Sten from behind. They clashed on top of her in a screeching roar of snarls and teeth. She covered her face as the air was kicked out of her lungs by the two animals wrestling on top of her. There was a squealing howl of pain, and she saw Sten’s neck was now clamped between the wolf’s savage jaws.
‘No!’ she screamed.
Fearing for Sten, she pushed herself into the fray, thrusting the dagger into the grey fur of the wolf’s side with one might push. A wheezing shriek filled the air, and she grimaced at the pain she had caused. She had hoped to kill it quickly as she hated to see animals suffer—even the ones that meant her harm.
Sharp teeth whirled back at her in retribution, and Embla closed her eyes waiting for the inevitable bite.
Nothing came.
A rush of wind passed her cheek and then there was a heavy thud, followed by silence. Cracking open her eyes she saw the wolf was slumped on the deck beside her, a spear through its side.
‘Embla!’ shouted Runar, running up the steps to join her.
His heart was still stuck in his throat from having to make a throw that could have potentially cost him Embla’s life. The spear had struck true, but he couldn’t shake the fear that still rattled through his body, causing his hands to tremble.
What if he had missed, or failed to hit the wolf?
The potential for tragedy made him want to retch.
Embla blinked up at him in the skittering light of the torch. Guilt at leaving her alone for so long pierced his side, and he thought he might choke on the emotion if he didn’t focus on something else. Quickly, he picked up the torch before it set light to the wooden floor. The flames bloomed in the air, illuminating the sorry mess in front of him.
Sten limped up into a standing position, bloody gashes around his neck, although they were thankfully not deep. He patted the dog’s head gratefully, while checking Embla over for injury. She blinked up at him, her eyes wide with shock, and then she stared at the dead wolf beside her.
Her blade had pierced its side, and was still embedded in its matted fur. His spear was lodged beside it, a final blow to the heart that had taken its spirit straight into the afterlife.
‘Is...is it in pain?’ she asked, and he could tell she felt bad for hurting it. It was the kind of thing Embla would worry over.
‘It is dead.’
