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Once the berries had been picked, the other women carried the baskets back to the village. Hilda wanted to have some time to herself, but before she could walk away, Fiona walked up to her and tugged her arm.

“Hilda, talk tae me,” she said gently.

Fiona always said that Hilda had inherited her father’s temper. Her eyes blazed. “I hate the way ye are all gaeing on about marriage recently. I hae been the same all my life. I hae always enjoyed the way of the warrior, sae why dae ye expect me tae change now? Just because I’m older, I hae nae changed. I’m the same as I hae always been. Why would ye think I want tae get married?” she asked.

Fiona took a moment to compose her thoughts. She kept her voice low.

“I dinnae expect ye tae give up what ye love, lass, but we all hae tae change in life. There are certain things that are demanded of us, and if we try tae run from them, it’s only gaeing tae cause us more anguish.”

“Then I want no part of them,” Hilda said defiantly, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

Fiona smirked. “Sometimes we dinnae hae a choice.”

“I just dinnae understand, Ma. After all the stories ye and Da hae told me of what this place was like when we were younger… how haes it become like this? I thought the women were proud warriors and there was nothing stopping them from fighting alongside the men? Why hae things changed?”

“I suppose it’s something that’s happened over time,” Fiona said. “As Laurel said, it happened when it was needed, but in times like this, we only need the men. I agree with ye that sometimes women need tae be strong, but there are other matters that take precedence as well. I was a warrior just like ye were, but there are some things we can dae that men simply cannae.”

“Such as?”

“Hae a family,” Fiona said. The words were soft, but they were met by a strong reaction from Hilda, who threw her arms up in the air and rolled her eyes dramatically. She paced away from Fiona and let out a guttural moan.

“Hilda, there’s no reason tae react like that,” Fiona scolded. “I know ye think it might be some kind of weakness tae be a woman, but it is nae. I fought alongside yer da. I know what it’s like tae feel the fury of battle, and I can honestly tell ye that nothing compares tae raising a family.

“Bringing ye and yer brother up haes been the best thing I hae ever done with my life, and if I haed a choice tae gae back and dae anything differently, I wouldnae. Ye may think there’s nothing heroic in nursing babies, singing them lullabies, or teaching them about the world, but ye would be wrong. There’s a place in Valhalla for parents, of that I’m sure.

“And marriage can bring ye many wonders, wonders that ye cannae even dream of. When ye meet the right person… oh, Hilda, it’s just the most wonderful thing in the world. Yer da and I, we were lucky tae meet each other. When I realized I loved him, it was as though everything made sense, and I could nae imagine how I haed ever lived without him. One day, ye will hae the same experience. Ye will meet a man who ye hae never seen before, and ye will be amazed at how strong yer connection is. I know ye are a strong-willed girl. I’m proud of ye for that, but ye hae tae accept the fact that ye dinnae know everything. Sometimes ye just hae tae trust that yer ma knows best.”

“I’m nae sure this is one of those times,” Hilda said bitterly. “I dinnae want a husband. I dinnae want a family. I just want tae fight and prove that I’m as capable as any man. If I’m old enough tae be married, then I’m old enough tae nae listen tae these lectures anymore.”

With that, she stormed away from her mother, a dark cloud descending upon her. Her heart was tense with rage, and deep down, she hated speaking to Fiona like this, but the entire situation was maddening!

Hilda marched toward the stables where she unyoked her horse, Blaze, and leaped on him. She patted his flank and rode away at a good pace, wanting to put some distance between herself and the village so that she could have some time to think.

Recently, the tension between her and her mother had been growing. It wasn’t something that she was proud of or that she even wanted, but she didn’t seem to be able to stop it. It felt as though she had reached a point in her life where what she wanted didn’t necessarily match with what the world required of her, and until this conflict was resolved, she wasn’t sure she could be happy. She almost wished that another conflict between the Vikings and the Highlanders would occur again so that she had an excuse to throw herself into battle, but peace had reigned for a long time. There were still some skirmishes as Vikings tried their luck in raiding various clans, but nothing that made the Highlands sit up in terror. As far as Hilda knew, those days were long in the past, lost to legend and myth, and it meant that she would have to embrace her destiny as a wife and mother.

She shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t that she was completely opposed to the matter, but she found it difficult to believe that she would find someone who would overwhelm her senses as her father had done for her mother.

As she rode upon Blaze, the wind rippled through her hair. The forest was thick, but despite this, the horse bolted at a good pace, navigating the spaces in between the trees with great accuracy. Hilda leaned down and pressed her face close to Blaze’s neck, feeling the power and speed thrum through the horse. The tremors of his gallop reverberated through her body, and it wasn’t long before she felt the satisfying ache of her thighs as they gripped the horse. Sometimes it seemed as though life would have been easier if she left their clan and made her way out into the world, roaming from village to village, helping slay beasts and bandits to earn her coin. It was a noble thing, and she was certain that it would help her gain glory, and she doubted that when people saw her blade bathed in blood, they would be too quick to suggest she should be married.

It wasn’t long before her head had been cleared, and she regretted the way she had spoken to her mother. Fiona was only trying to help her. There had always been a strange and uneasy balance between the Viking and Highland parts of her. Both cultures were respectful of traditions, but they valued different things. Hilda had always worshiped her father, and it occurred to her that perhaps one of the reasons why her mother was a little perturbed was because Hilda hadn’t shown the same enthusiasm for her Highland side. While she wasn’t prepared to promise a marriage, she thought she could at least make the effort to listen to Fiona and take heed of her words.

She decided that she was going to stay in the forest for a while and enjoy the rising hills and running through a glen, but then she heard a scream. It was high-pitched, terrifying, and something about it was familiar.

Hilda pulled up Blaze and stood still for a few moments, listening to the wind to see if she could sense anything. She strained her ears. Blaze turned, and she wondered if the stallion could feel tremors under his hooves. Her warrior instinct kicked in, and she lamented the fact that she had left without her sword, for her exit had been abrupt. Still, that wasn’t any reason to refuse the call of someone in danger. She twisted Blaze around and geed him forward, heading toward the source of the scream.

Hilda scanned the forest for any sense of flickering movement. The trees were a good place to hide, and if she was careless, then she might find that she was the one screaming. Her head twisted as she heard a twig snap. Lowering her head just in case an arrow flew by, she swung her gaze toward the origin of the movement and braced herself for the sight of an enemy. Instead, she saw a horse trotting away, but it filled her with fear because the horse was her mother’s.

Hilda was filled with panic, and suddenly caution was tossed away as she swung herself off Blaze and landed on the ground. She still crept low, but she called out for her mother. It took a few moments for a whimpering sound to greet her ears. She ran toward the sound, and her face went ashen as she saw her mother slumped against the trunk of a tree. A line of blood trickled from her mouth, and her dress was stained crimson as an arrow had punctured her body. The tip protruded from her stomach. Bile rose in Hilda’s throat, and it felt as though the world had cracked completely. She fell to her mother’s side, not caring at all that she was a vulnerable target to any enemy that was lurking nearby.

“Ma… Ma?” Hilda whimpered, almost afraid to touch her mother. By the time Hilda reached Fiona, the life had slipped from Fiona’s eyes. They were glazed over, glassy, and Hilda knew there was nothing she could do to change what had happened. She took her mother’s limp hand in hers, and when she didn’t feel her mother squeezing back, her heart shattered. She threw her head back and let out a deathly cry, one that bellowed out from the pit of her soul and allowed her anguish to flow through the air. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and the warm, salty taste filled her mouth. Her chest heaved, and she wondered why the world had been so cruel to take her mother from her.

But then she realized it wasn’t the world at all. It was her. She was the one to blame. Fiona must have come after her to talk with her more and perhaps calm her down, and because of that, she had been struck by an arrow. It wasn’t fair. It didn’t seem right, and yet there was nothing Hilda could do.

She rose, and her hands formed tight balls. She longed to lash out at someone, and she wished an enemy was within striking distance, but the world was silent around her, as though she was left alone with her own sorrow.

With tears still blurring her vision, she pulled her mother’s body up, snapping the tip of the arrow. She lay Fiona across Blaze’s back and then leaped upon the horse again. She rode as hard as she could, letting Blaze guide her because she was too stricken with grief. The world was made of water to her, and she reached back with one arm to prevent Fiona’s body from slipping off the horse.

Fiona returned to the sight of men licking their wounds and celebrating a triumph after an attack. Nobody seemed too hurt, but there were signs of battle everywhere. It took a few moments for people to realize that Hilda had returned and that she wasn’t alone.

She slipped off the horse, and then she pulled Fiona’s body off, carrying it in her arms. She staggered to her father, but she could not bring herself to meet his gaze. There was a look of confusion on his face as his dead wife was handed to him, and then Hilda slunk off. It was her fault that Fiona hadn’t been in the safety of the village when the attack had happened, her fault that Fiona had made herself vulnerable. She thought of herself as a mighty warrior, but how shameful it was that her tantrum had resulted in her own mother being killed.