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Night fell. A fire was stoked in the middle of the village, and a huge, juicy boar was being roasted. Cutlets of tender meat were sliced off and passed around, and every warrior had their fair share. Hilda imagined this must have been what Vikings were like in the old days before they embarked on a raid.

This wasn’t just any raid, though. This was a mission of justice, a mission to rid the world of villains. Their purpose was a noble one, and glory would surely be theirs. But in a peculiar twist, Hilda found that she cared not for glory on this occasion. All she wanted was to be rid of the guilt that twisted and writhed in her heart like a serpent. It was impossible to rest with these feelings inside her, and the best she could do was push them to the back of her mind and try to forget about them for a while.

All the warriors who were going to go on the quest had gathered around the fire, and Maxwell arrived with some of his men. As the flames illuminated his huge form, he looked like something rising from the depths of the underworld, more a monster than a man. He took a slice of meat, and for a man of his size, it seemed as though nothing but the entire boar would satisfy him, but he only took his fair share. As was the custom, stories were shared about great hunts and great quests of glory.

“Ye must hae many stories tae share,” Angus said, turning to Maxwell.

All eyes were upon the big man, and everyone waited with bated breath for what he might tell them. It already seemed as though he was impossible to exist, so they assumed that the stories he told would be impossible too.

“I dinnae like tae boast,” he said. “Any man who haes tae boast of his glory doesnae deserve it. I dinnae need tae prove myself tae anyone.”

Angus bristled at this and furrowed his brow. “It’s nae about boasting; it’s our custom. If ye hae nae realized, we hae a lot of Viking blood in the clan, and this is what Vikings dae.”

“I’m nae Viking,” Maxwell said bluntly, and that was the end of the discussion.

An awkward tension rose between them all, and people stared into the fire. The flames danced. It was a sign of danger, a sign of something unpredictable. The air burned, and Hilda could feel her eyes growing smoky. She ate the meat and wondered why Maxwell didn’t want to share any stories of his glory. It was a unique thing, as she was used to people claiming glory. She couldn’t imagine being a warrior and not caring.

Eventually, conversation arose again between the warriors, although Angus sidled around and found his way to Hilda. He spoke in a low voice.

“I’m nae sure I trust him,” Angus said.

“Why, because he doesnae want tae tell a story?”

“Aye. What if he’s a fraud?”

Hilda remembered the way Maxwell had fought. “He’s nae a fraud,” she replied.

“Still, I think we hae tae be careful. There’s still nae much we know about him. We should be vigilant. If he does anything wrong, then we’re gaeing tae hae tae stop him.”

“Aye, and it looks like it’ll take all of us tae dae sae.”

Angus smirked, and as he did so, the fire illuminated his face in such a way as to make his eyes reflect the fire. “He may be tall, but I’ll wager he bleeds just like the rest of us. No man can escape death when it is his day tae die.”

Hilda was struck by the intensity of his words. “I thought ye wanted him tae help us,” she said in a frantic whisper.

“Aye, I dae, but I also want him close because I dinnae trust him.”

Hilda’s gaze followed Angus’s across the fire to Maxwell. He was standing resolute and quiet, staring into the flames. She wondered what he saw when he looked at them. Did he see death and destruction, or did he see something else entirely? What did a man like that think about, and did he truly have their best interests at heart? Hilda hoped that she hadn’t gone through all this only to hire the wrong mercenary to help them.

“Can ye imagine killing a man like that, though?” Angus continued. “What a tale that would make.” He went off chuckling to himself, and Hilda wondered how Angus could bring himself to have such murderous thoughts about a man who was a mystery to them.

Hilda stood alone for some time, trying to enjoy the meat as best she could. She scanned the faces to see if her father would appear, but it seemed as though Varrik had decided to remain in his home. It was likely he was grieving. Hilda’s heart sank yet again. She wished she knew what to say to him or what to do. Hopefully, bringing the head of Fiona’s murdered would go some way to healing the rift between them. She hated this, though. She had always been close to Varrik, so much so that she felt bad for not having the same relationship with Fiona. There was just something about Varrik that made her want to be more than she was. He had always seemed the most impressive man alive—the strongest, the fastest, the most intelligent. There was nothing that was beyond his reach, and she never tired of hearing stories of his grandeur.

But now there was distance between them, and she knew it was all her fault. As she gazed into the fire, she could almost feel her life burning away. Her childhood had already gone. She was a young woman of nineteen now, and she could not deny the fact that there were certain obligations she needed to fulfill. It was practically her mother’s dying wish as well, for her to be married. She glanced across the faces that were all around her, wondering what it would be like to be married to them. None of them had ever inspired passionate feelings within her heart, but perhaps that was secondary to the mere act of getting married. Wouldn’t it be a fitting tribute to her mother to settle down and have babies?

Angus was the likeliest candidate, she supposed. He was friends with her brother and had lived among them for a long time. Even so, she had never had romantic feelings toward him and wasn’t sure how she was supposed to go about conjuring them from nothing. Then her gaze passed over Maxwell. Hilda amused herself by thinking what it would be like to be his wife. And yet, the more she thought about it, the less strange it seemed, so she forced the thoughts from her mind before they became worrisome.

“Are ye truly sure ye want tae come with us?” Maxwell asked. He had shifted his position around the fire and come to stand beside her. He and Hilda were side by side, making a point to stare into the fire, as though they were too afraid to look at each other.

“I would nae hae it any other way. She was my ma. I need tae avenge her,” Hilda replied.

“I hope ye know that my reluctance tae take ye haes no bearing on yer ability as a warrior,” he said.

“Then tae what does it refer?”

“Yer safety. That’s all.”