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Daylight was dwindling. Caoimhe had been walking for hours. She had run a lot of it, but eventually, her muscles were weak, and her breathing was becoming heavy, made worse by the fact that she wept while she retreated. Conflict reigned within her. There were moments when she twisted her neck back and almost returned to the village, telling herself that even if she managed to pull someone away, then it was worth it, but she knew the likelihood of her succeeding was very slim. Then she told herself that she should at least suffer along with the rest of her village otherwise it wasn't fair, but that didn't seem to do much good either. So she ran and ran, as far as her legs would carry her. She only had a vague idea of the general direction she was heading, but her goal of leaving her village was accomplished.

Safety awaited her with Kylie, and since Caoimhe didn't know anyone else in the world, it was really the only place she could think of to go, but she wasn't entirely sure of the way. Eventually, she found a road, although she kept to the trees in case any unsavory character prowled the area for some easy prey. She kept her ears peeled for any animals as well, for there were wolves, wild boars, and other animals that could make life very difficult for her. She didn't see the deer again and wondered if it had managed to find safety. It was probably handling things far better than she was.

Her throat was raw, and her stomach rumbled. The only berries she found were the poisonous kind, ones that had claimed the lives of children who had not listened to the warnings of their parents. Even though she knew they were poisonous, she still found them tempting, such was the hunger that growled in the pit of her stomach.

Caoimhe tried not to think of the attack on her village or the aftermath. She knew it was likely that her father and everyone else she knew in the village had died. How could things change so dramatically, so instantly? How could she lose everything she knew in the blitz of a few hours? Her life would never be the same again. The things she did in the village, the people she knew, it was all gone. She staggered along, walking as though she was in a daze, a vacant look upon her face. She steadied herself by leaning on trees and was only comforted by telling herself that this road had to lead to somewhere, and if she could find another village, she might find some compassion and a way to Kylie.

The sun faded, ceding the celestial throne to the moon, which brought with it its army of stars to watch over the skies. The air was cooler now too, but Caoimhe's steps were, shuffling and she made small whimpering noises. She had been walking for so long now that she didn't know if she would ever find anywhere else, and she wondered if this was penance for leaving her village to suffer.

When she saw a small, twinkling light in the distance, she thought it was a star at first before she told herself that it was far too low to be in the sky, and she doubted very much that she had come upon a fallen star. By this point, she had ventured away from the cover of the woods because the darkness made it more difficult to see, and she knew it was easy to become disoriented, especially when her mind was fatigued. The closer she came to this twinkling light, the more she saw the outline of a building appear. It was a small, lonely building at some crossroads. At first, she thought she was imagining things, that her mind was so desperate for relief it had conjured this image from nothing. But then the smell of ale greeted her, and the sound of a crackling fire came to her ears. There were a couple of wagons outside the building, with horses in a small barn that was attached to the main building. Caoimhe licked her dry, cracked lips and swallowed a few drops of saliva, although this did nothing to help her thirst.

With weak, trembling arms, she pushed open the heavy door and walked into the small inn. There were a few tables scattered about the place. Candles offered dim light, and a fire blazed in a hearth near the far wall. When Caoimhe saw the bar, she almost fainted. She placed her hands against the bar, and her legs almost collapsed from underneath her. Her skin was sallow and every word was punctuated with a panting breath. The innkeeper came up to her. He had wispy white hair and a stern look on his face.

“What dae ye want?” he asked.

“Please...please...I want help. I...I've been walking all day. I'm sae tired. Please, can I hae a drink?” she asked.

The innkeeper narrowed his gaze and folded his arms across his chest. “Aye, I'll get ye a drink, if ye can pay,” he said.

Caoimhe groaned, for she had no money with her.

“Can I appeal tae yer kind nature? Just one wee drink, that's all I ask,” she said in a weak, mewling tone, but the innkeeper was unmoved.

“If I take pity on ye then I'll hae tae take pity on any wastrel that comes across my path. Get away with ye. If ye cannae pay, ye cannae stay here,” he said, turning away from her, ignoring Caoimhe's weary pleas. Hope had turned to despair in an instant, but she did not have the strength to argue with him. Instead, she slunk away and sank into the shadows, ready to give herself to the night and hope that the moon was kind to her.

“What are ye daeing, Callum? Ye cannae treat people like this. Hae ye no honor in yer soul? Come here, lass, I will buy ye a drink. And get her a bowl of stew while ye are at it, Callum,” a man stirred from one of the tables. He was an old man, stocky in build. Once upon a time, he would have been strong. His beard was long and grey, and since he had a bald pate, it looked as though the hair had sloughed off his head and migrated down to rest underneath his chin. His clothes were little more than rags. He rummaged through them and pulled out a couple of coins, tossing them onto the bar. They landed with a clink but were snatched up quickly by Callum, the innkeeper. Caoimhe thought it sad that a couple of small pieces of metal were the price of kindness.

“Come and sit with me, lass. Ye look like ye hae been through a war,” the old man said, guiding her to a table in the corner beside the fire. “I hope ye dinnae mind sitting by the fire. It's good for my bones,” he said as he settled down in his chair. He took a hearty gulp of ale and then smacked his lips together, satisfied by the taste. “I'm Hugh. What's yer name?”

“Caoimhe,” she replied, overwhelmed with relief that she was actually able to sit down. “Thank ye for this. I'm sorry that I cannae repay ye.”

“Oh, dinnae worry about it. Yer company is payment enough. When ye get tae my age, there are fewer and fewer people who are willing tae listen tae the ramblings of an old man. Aye, I've spent tae many evenings alone with my own thoughts for my liking. Just sit with me for a while, and I'll consider the debt settled,” Hugh said.

Caoimhe smiled. “Thank ye. It means a lot tae me. It's nice tae know there are still some kind men in the world,” she said, shooting a look towards the innkeeper.

Hugh snorted with laughter. “Callum prefers the touch of coin tae the touch of a woman,” he said. “Now tell me, what brings ye tae a place like this? I hope ye dinnae mind me saying sae, but ye dinnae strike me as the type of lass tae visit inns like this.”

“I've been walking all day. My village was attacked by Vikings and my da, he was...he was carried away as a prisoner. I was the only one tae escape,” she said. Sorrow flooded through her. She leaned forward and placed her head in her hands as the tears flowed. She hated herself for not being able to rescue her father. She hated the Vikings for attacking in the first place, and in a way, she hated her father for not being able to defend himself, even though she knew this was irrational.

“I'm sorry tae hear that, lass. It must be a traumatic thing, but at least ye are here, and ye are safe. There are nae many people who can say they hae escaped a Viking raid.”

That might well have been the case, but Caoimhe did not feel proud. “I hate them,” she said bitterly, gazing into the fire as she curled her hands into fists. “I hate all of them, all the Vikings and any man who seeks war. Cannae they see how much damage it does?” she asked, not expecting an answer. Hugh chuckled, which annoyed her, and she glared at him.

“Ye might as well hate the storm and the sea if ye hate men who seek war. Let me tell ye a story while ye eat,” Hugh said. Callum's shadow loomed over the table as he deposited a bowl of stew in front of Caoimhe. Her stomach roared with triumph, and her mood was immediately improved by the act of eating. The stew was thick and heavy. The chunks of meat were tough, and the vegetables were stringy, but after what she had been through during the day, it might well have been the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. She nodded to Hugh, indicating that he should continue with his story, for she was intent on devouring every ounce of this stew.

“Well, ye see, lass...there is a balance tae the world that is nae obvious when ye first look at things. Take snakes, for example. I'm sure ye would agree that they are ugly, vicious little things, slithering around, waiting tae strike when ye least expect it,” he said.

Caoimhe nodded. She remembered when a child had died from a snake bite. The animal had come from nowhere and then slid away as quietly as a whisper, leaving death behind.

“But the thing is that the snakes are there for a reason. I knew a man once who tamed snakes. He ran a farm, and for a long time, the farm was nae successful because rats kept getting intae his grain and ate through all his sacks. The rats took a good share of everything he harvested, and he knew that if he could get rid of them, he could make some good coin, but no matter how hard he tried or how long he spent hunting these rats, they kept coming. He said they must have been in the walls, and he thought that he would hae tae burn the whole farm down just tae get rid of them—and I daresay he was sorely tempted tae dae just that. The rats had driven him crazy with fury.

“Well anyway, one day he comes across a merchant who has a snake, and he tells this man that snakes are eating the rats. The man was sae desperate that he took the snake—I believe it was an adder—for he was assured that the snake would nae attack anything unless threatened. But it was better than burning down his farm. Anyway, he gaes along and lets the snake free around the grain, thinking that if it does nae work, he'll hae tae burn the barn down. He comes back the next morning and finds a pile of dead rats waiting for him, with a very satisfied snake.” Hugh smiled as he finished the story.

Caoimhe slurped down her stew. “But we are talking about men, nae snakes,” she said.

Hugh sighed. “I know, lass, but what I'm trying tae tell ye is that nae all warriors are mindless brutes, and neither are all Vikings. Sometimes ye need a warrior tae defend ye, and sometimes Vikings can be men of honor.”

“I dinnae believe that,” Caoimhe scoffed.

“Well, I would suggest that ye try and keep an open mind about these things. I dinnae know if ye hae heard, but over the years, there hae been a few Vikings who hae settled in the Highlands and ye never know when ye are gaeing tae run intae one. Some might even take offense and being branded as these brutes,” Hugh said with a twinkle in his eye. Caoimhe looked up from her stew and wondered just what this man's story was, but she wasn't yet ready to accept that Vikings could be anything other than savages.

“It does nae change the fact that my village haes been attacked and my da haes been taken prisoner, most likely tae be killed. I might never see him again,” she said mournfully. The bowl was empty now. The flames danced behind Hugh, and they almost seemed to invite her in. She felt better for having eaten, but the grief was still making her nauseous. Whenever she closed her eyes, she was faced with the image of her father being dragged away, bloodied and beaten. It was a stark reminder of the Vikings’ power, and she wondered if there was any man in the Highlands who could defeat one in battle.

“Where are ye heading tae next, lass?” Hugh asked gently.

Caoimhe sighed and told him the name of the village where her sister lived. Hugh said that he knew it and that she wasn't too far away. He gave her directions and then said that he didn't have much money left, but he would pay for her to stay in the stable if she wanted to sleep under some shelter. Caoimhe thanked him profusely. Her eyelids were heavy, and every other breath she took was a yawn.

“I'll find some way tae repay ye,” she said. “Where dae ye live?”

“Oh, I'm a wandering soul,” Hugh said. “I never stay in one place for tae long. If ye want tae repay me, then pay this kindness forward and help someone else in need, and take care of yerself, lass.”

She left him sitting by the fire as she went to the stable. The horses stirred as she entered, but none of them seemed to mind her presence. She arranged some straw to form a rudimentary bed, and as soon as she lay down, slumber claimed her. But she wished that this day had been a dream and that when she awoke, she would be in her own bed again and wake up to find that everything was normal, even though she knew the gods would not grant her such a favor.