Page 8 of Into the Isle

I smiled. Anna was right; her father adored her and would do anything she wished—let her choose any man she fancied to take her hand—despite her well-documented promiscuity around town.

A sinking feeling filled my gut. I lowered my eyes to the ground to watch where I walked. It became rocky closer to the village as we stepped off the grassy heath. That wasn’t why I dropped my chin, though.

It must be nice having someone care for you like that. Like you’re a princess, only wishing the best for you.

Stifling a sigh, I raised my eyes from the ground, squaring my shoulders. We drew close to the village. Smoke wafted from holes in the roofs, dissipating into the gray sky. People moseyed around, setting off to the day’s chores. It looked like something out of medieval times, rather than a village in the twenty-first century.

Alas, that was the Old Way, which we lived by. Traditions were carried on from our ancestors, insulating us from the rest of the world at large so we could hone our crafts and focus on the dire situations at hand. The prophesies and gods and battles planned for our futures.

You wouldn’t find a telephone pole within miles of Selby, here in this forgotten corner of Iceland. Nor a cell phone, much to the dismay of the younger folk who craved connection with the outside world.

I was old enough to not care about those things . . . as much. I didn’t need a device on my person tracking my location at any given moment. I had no wish for televisions to distract me, and saw no point in learning about the histories of celebrities, or training with guns.

Anyone could pull a trigger. They were weapons of the weak and frightened, according to the elders. A spear, sword, or axe, on the other hand? Those required skill, which I had an abundance of.

Anna and I made it into town and marched slowly down the main road toward our longhouses. She had essentially become my best friend out of formality, since her family home was next door to mine.

As we walked, chatter picked up around us as more people exited their houses to start the day. I liked to get an early start, though not everyone else did.

I turned to my right say something to Anna—

And pain lanced up my left arm.

Stumbling, I seethed, looking down as a fist-sized rock tumbled to the ground.

“What the fuck,” Anna said, lips parting. She looked past me, and I whipped my head around to the left—

Just as another rock flew in and smashed into my face, bursting my lip.

“Bullseye!” someone screeched from the side of the street.

Blinding white light shot behind my eyes as I staggered and instinctively dropped the bucket in my left hand to raise my arm protectively. The bucket thudded, turned over, and splashed, water soaking into the mud of the road.

Knocking over into Anna, I tasted coppery blood on my lip and licked it away, growling as I barely managed to stay on my feet.

She helped me stay upright, wrapping an arm around my middle. Her voice rose, stepping to my side to confront my attackers. “What the fuck, you little hellions!”

I blinked away the pain and blurry vision.

Three whelps snickered on the side of the street, arms cocked to toss more rocks. When I stared daggers at the boys—little more than early teenagers on the cusp of puberty—their wicked smiles grew.

One of them shouted, “Take that, you bog-bred cunt!”

He laughed with his friends and scurried off into a crowd of people, before disappearing down an alley between two longhouses.

Anna moved to charge them. My anger was already abating. I put out my arm—free after dropping the bucket—and barred her. “It’s not worth it, Anna.”

“Those little bastards! We can’t just let them get away with hurting you. Gods, Vini, you’re bleeding.” Her face paled and she swiped a finger over my lip.

I shook my head, more frustrated than pissed. Of the dozens of people walking down the road, hardly anyone paid us any mind, if they’d seen the attack at all. A few passersby eyed me warily, suggesting they had seen it and simply didn’t care.

I was given a wide berth, and it wasn’t because of the blood on my split lip. The children were gone and there was no point chasing them. I was used to this.

Anna typically didn’t see it, because she was a perfect little princess in town and everyone loved her.

I said, “You shouldn’t be associating with me once we’re in town, Anna. It’ll be bad for your reputa—”

“Oh shush, Vini. My reputation as a slut and rabble-rouser? I think I’ll manage.”

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