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“Try and look at it like this...” Kylie said, giving the matter one last try. “I know ye think ye would be distracting yerself from yer search for Da by getting married, but if ye got married tae the right person, ye would have an ally. The chance of ye freeing Da would be higher because ye would hae protection and help.”

Realization dawned upon Caoimhe's face. She hadn't considered this possibility before, and while she hated to admit that it made sense, she could not deny the practical aspect, although she had never dreamed that marriage would be a practical affair.

“And ye think this Viking would be the right man?” she asked.

Kylie shrugged. “All I know is what I see.”

“I dae like him...but marriage?” She shook her head slightly. “I dinnae know about that. He is a Viking, after all.”

Kylie took Caoimhe's hand again and squeezed it tightly while she looked directly into Caoimhe's eyes. “He's a man, Caoimhe,” she said, offering a smile.

The moon hung in the sky like a silver lantern, and wispy clouds danced among the stars. Caoimhe's mind was racing after her conversation with Kylie. In truth, she knew that she would have to get married eventually and that her prospects were smaller with her father if indeed he was dead. She knew she had to consider the possibility that she would never see him alive again, but it gnawed at her soul, and she flinched whenever this thought entered her mind.

Getting married was a daunting prospect, promising her life to another man. While she liked Sven, she wasn't sure that she could make such a decision based on their brief interactions so far, although if it ensured greater help in searching for her father, then could she really afford not to get married? She always said that she would do anything for her family, so perhaps marriage was the price she would have to pay. Once again, it felt as though life was rushing toward her in a great torrent of destiny. If the Vikings hadn't attacked her village, she would have been enjoying her usual routine and could have explored the possibility of marriage at her own leisure. As it was, she was forced to move forward with these plans even though she wasn't ready.

However, there was something that had changed inside her. Before all this had happened, she had often dreamed of running away and exploring the world alone, but after spending the best part of two days all by herself, she now knew how lonely it was. Without anyone to rely on, the world was a cruel and cold place. Just knowing that she had someone to support her lifted her spirits immensely, so she didn't know what would have happened had she not been able to make it to Kylie's village. Having a husband would mean that she never needed to fear being alone again, and there was something to be said for having someone she could trust unconditionally.

With these thoughts raging around her mind, she found it difficult to sleep. She tossed and turned, and this was not helped by the fear that lingered in her mind. She worried that if she slept, Vikings might attack this village, and she would not be able to escape as she had done before.

Even though her body was tired, her mind was active, and she soon became so annoyed that she kicked off her blanket and swung her legs away from the bed. She lit a candle and made her way through the house, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders to protect her from the chill of the night. Her breath turned into wispy steam as it drifted away from her mouth, carried by the wind higher and higher until it disappeared from view entirely. At this time of the night, the village—and indeed the world—was quiet. Shadows danced in the forest, and when she gazed into the distance, she became fearful that Vikings were lurking in wait. She stayed away from this and ventured in the other direction, where a cluster of homes had been built together.

The village was mostly deserted, although she did see a crackling fire burning. It caught her curiosity as she wondered who would be lighting a fire at this time of night. As she grew closer, she heard chanting in a foreign language and recognized it as Norse, but she could not decipher the meaning of any of the words. Her heart leaped, for she assumed that it was Sven. Perhaps if she got to know him better, then the prospect of marrying him might be more appealing. She crept up and alerted him to her presence, but when the man turned around, the smile fell from her face.

It was Egon.

Fear ran through her in a straight line as she saw the hammer hanging from his neck, still unsure if he was one of the men who had attacked her village.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night?” he asked gruffly.

Caoimhe frowned. He seemed to be the most impossible man. She was quite sure there wasn't an ounce of decency within his heart.

“I'm out for a walk tae clear my head,” she huffed.

“I see. My name is Egon,” he said.

“I know, I was there when you told us and said you are the son of Ragnar. My name is Caoimhe.”

“Well, Caoimhe, you are interrupting my prayers,” he replied, and turned his back to her.

Suddenly, she felt guilty for what she had done. As a devout woman herself, she knew the importance of prayer, and she remained quiet as Egon completed his prayer to the flames. He spoke quietly, and his words had a rhythmic quality to them. She continued to hold her candle, and the flame looked pitiful to the one that blazed before Egon.

“Dinnae ye think it's a wee bit disrespectful tae worship yer gods here?” she asked, anger lacing her words. Egon didn't seem to be bothered by her tone. He turned to face her. When framed by the fire like this, he was an imposing figure, and she wondered if this was what his gods looked like.

“I needed a place to make my prayers. I didn't think anyone would come by to witness my offering to the gods. Besides, I was born on this land same as you. I believe I have every right to pray.”

“If ye were born on this land, then why dinnae ye worship the same as the Highlanders?”

“Because I hear the Norse gods. I hear them in my soul. They speak to me, and I want to make them proud. I want to earn my place in Valhalla.”

“What's Valhalla?” she asked.

“It's the place warriors go to when we die. All our great deeds are turned into song. We feast and fight and are reunited with our ancestors. It will be glorious,” he said, a look of awe passing upon his face.

“It sounds dangerous,” Caoimhe said. “I would prefer Valhalla if it promised ye peace and nae conflict.”

Egon grunted. “It sounds dull. That is why I worship the Norse gods. I want to make them proud of me.”

“Is that all ye pray for? Glory?”