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Caoimhe had managed to remain calm the following morning. Although she was still stricken with grief, she was glad to be in the company of family, and it helped to soothe the anguish in her soul. Andrew had cooked them a hearty breakfast, which went a long way to helping. Caoimhe had told Kylie about her dream, but Kylie had dismissed it and said that it was merely a symptom of her grief and that she shouldn't think too much of it. Caoimhe wasn't sure that was the case. The sight of the two snakes in front of her was so visceral it seemed like it had to mean something, but she couldn't figure out what, and to be honest, she didn't want to spend the morning thinking about snakes.

Caoimhe was numb and stayed in the house while Kylie and Andrew went to do some work around the village. When afternoon arrived, Caoimhe became aware of some commotion and went outside to investigate. She was shocked when she saw that a couple of Vikings were standing there, with what looked like Highlanders. She approached meekly and was in awe at the size of the leader. His hair was long and golden brown, his build was muscular, so much so that he looked as though he had been made out of rock. He looked fearsome. There was a stern look upon his face, and she feared to think about how many lives his hands had claimed. He was clapping his hands and telling everyone to gather around. Caoimhe made her way to stand by Kylie and Andrew.

“What's gaeing on?” she asked.

Kylie shrugged. “I dinnae know. They just arrived, and he shouted tae everyone tae stop what they're daeing and listen tae him. He's acting like he's a laird or something.”

There was something haughty and arrogant about the man, as though this kind of duty was beneath him. It seemed to be more than a task than anything else, but she didn't understand why Highlanders would have accompanied a Viking here, and the more she looked at him, the more there was something familiar about him as well...although that could have been simply because all Vikings looked similar to her.

“You won't know my name,” the Viking said in a flat voice once he was confident that everyone had gathered, “but I am Egon Hoffstad, son of Ragnar. I am here to warn you that a Viking raid has taken place in a nearby village.” Murmurs spread around the crowd, although, of course, Caoimhe knew all about it. Egon seemed annoyed at this interruption and held up a hand, clearing his throat to ensure that people remained quiet. The murmurs quickly died down. “I have come here to assure you that the Hoffstad clan will not allow any harm to come to you. We will protect any neighboring village, as my father promised many years ago.”

He looked around at the crowd, and that seemed to be all he was going to say. It wasn't enough for Caoimhe, though. She pushed her way near to the front of the crowd and summoned all her courage to speak up against this man.

“What about the people who were taken prisoner? Are ye gaeing tae rescue them?” she asked.

Egon seemed surprised that anyone would actually dare to ask him a question. His gaze passed along the crowd until he found the source of the question. He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, and the silence fueled her anger.

“Why will ye nae answer me? My da was taken prisoner! Are ye nae gaeing tae rescue them? What are ye gaeing tae dae tae the ones who are responsible for this? I want tae know that my da is gaeing tae be saved!” she cried.

“I can't make that promise. I don't know who is responsible, and I don't know where they might have taken any prisoners. What I can say is that if anyone has resisted valiantly, then I'm sure that there will be a place for them in the hall of heroes. All I came here to say is that you and the other neighboring villages can rely on our protection,” Egon said in his emotionless tone. Caoimhe thought it was a very cynical way to answer.

“That's nae good enough,” she growled. “My da should nae hae tae die! What's the use of protecting us if ye cannae rescue them? Why should they die when ye could help them?”

“I can't make that promise. You can't expect us to go rushing all around the Highlands in search of one man. It's just not possible. I will help you as much as I can, but I cannot do anything for your father. If he was taken by the Vikings then he lost in battle. That is what decided his fate. There is nothing I can do to change the way of war.”

Caoimhe looked at him with a burning anger in her heart. She wanted to rush up to him and beat his chest for what he said, for it was incredibly insensitive. He was saying all these things, yet he didn't seem to really care about them. How could he say that her father had earned what happened to him! It wasn't her father who had attacked the Vikings. She was so filled with anger that she trembled, and anything she wanted to say became lodged in her throat. Her cheeks were flushed, and she had balled her hands into tight fists beside her, but what could she have expected from a man who looked more like a Viking than a Highlander?

It seemed wrong for him to be here. Hugh had spoken of Vikings who populated the shores of the Highlands, but to Caoimhe, it seemed wrong. How could these men care for the people of the Highlands? How could they understand the bond that existed between the Highlanders and the land they inhabited? He was a callous, cruel man, and this protection he offered wasn't worth a damn thing if he wasn't willing to rescue the ones who had been taken. It wasn't just her father who was in danger, but women and children too, as well as other men. They were all victims of the Vikings, and they deserved compassion, not cruelty.

But there was something else about him as well, something that twitched in the back of her mind. As she looked at him, for he was an imposing presence and attracted the entire focus of her vengeful gaze, she saw the trinket hanging from a chain around his neck, resting against his broad chest. The sight of it drew the breath from her lungs as she thought she recognized it from the attack; it was a hammer. The color drained from her face. Moments ago, she had been flushed with anger, but now she looked like a ghoul. It certainly explained why he was so emotionless and why he didn't seem to care about her plight. If he was a part of the raid, then this might all be some kind of cover. It didn't matter that the Vikings lived in the Highlands. They were still Vikings, and they wouldn't so easily get rid of their nature.