Page 112 of Shared By the Vikings

The boy raised his face up, and then some more. Swallowed.

“Tell us, little man,” Gunnvar said, tipping his head and his eyes narrowing. “And perhaps I will get you an owl as a reward.”

“It was him, up there.” The boy pointed to the tip of the hill.

It was covered in trees, but a small trickle of black smoke wending into the blue sky was evidence of a dwelling of some sort.

“Ukrit?” Erik said slowly. “Are you sure, boy?”

“Ja. I saw him. He was in your boat, moving nets and furs around, then he put the barrel onto his shoulder and took it.”

“We will kill him,” Raud said, stomping in the direction of the forest-thick hill.

Erik watched Raud for a moment then directed his attention at the boy again. “Are you sure?”

“Ja.” The boy nodded. “Truly, that is what I saw.”

Erik ruffled his hair. “You will get an owl.” He turned and followed Raud, Gunnvar and Tali close behind him.

Ingrid rushed after her men who were tramping over hawthorn and hemlock and onto a small barely trodden path. “Who is Ukrit?”

“He is a simpleton,” Tali said. “Lives alone up there.”

“A simpleton,” she repeated.

“The gods didn’t give him a full brain.” Tali tapped the side of his head as he walked.

“Nobrain if he thought he would get away with taking our treasure.” Gunnvar huffed and slashed at a branch with his dagger. It snapped and splintered.

Ingrid had to rush to keep up; it was clear her men were in a mean and determined mood. Not good for so early in the day, and on a day when they were starting a journey.

The skinny path meandered upward, a few patches were damp and slippery, earthworms and slugs crept in the muck and a plume of gnats dotted the air. Ingrid batted them away and felt her back growing warm and her legs tiring.

Eventually they came to a small clearing. It was strewn with log piles, an old cart with a missing wheel, and a pile of broken sunbaked pottery.

“Ukrit,” Erik yelled, “show yourself.”

The door to a small round wooden thatch was ajar.

Raud marched up to it and kicked it open with the sole of his boot. It flew open, bouncing on something hard. The echo spun up to the forest canopy.

Raud walked in, sword pulled.

A high-pitched yelp rang out.

Tali, Erik, and Gunnvar rushed into the small home.

Ingrid was close behind.

After a moment her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Through the piles of pottery—bowls, vases, pots—a tall, lean figure stood up against the wall. His dark hair hung over wide eyes, and his mouth was open. The tip of Raud’s sword sat in the hollow of his neck.

“Ukrit,” Erik said. “You have something of ours.”

He didn’t speak, but he did open his mouth and close it again.

“And you better tell us where it is,” Raud said.

Ukrit touched the side of Raud’s sword, then pushed it away.

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