Denmark 873 A.D.
“Do you want to die?”
The girl shook her head, no.
Reaching out he grabbed her gently, taking her in his arms. He placed a blanket over her head and slipped into the night.
Soon the eerie screams began to die out, and the comforting sounds of the sea crept in to fill their senses. The burning city lay far behind them, and only open ocean lay ahead.
The man placed the child on the deck of an awaiting ship. The night sky shadowed them in secret, allowing them to silently sail from the harbor. He removed the blanket from the frightened child and knelt before her.
“Do you know what has happened?”
“Then you know that your Faðir and Móðir are dead, they are surely in Valhalla now,” He saw a single tear fall down the girl’s cheek, he slapped her firmly, “You are a daughter of Denmark, you will shed no tears this night.”
She nodded, surprised by his harshness.
“I must take you away from here, it is no longer safe for you; they will try to kill you if you stay,” Once again, the girl nodded to him in obedience, knowing she must trust him. “I will come back for you when it is safe for your return.”
“Já, Min Herre.”
A Viking’s Rage © Copyright Heather_cooki.