Page 17 of Shared By the Vikings

She shook the slimy weed from her pants and with it rolled a small pouch. She grabbed for it, hardly daring to hope it was what she thought it was.

But as she dug into it and found the small round bloodstone rune, she allowed a sliver of hope to fill her soul. Holding it tight in her palm, she harnessed its power.

And with it came a strange sensation of energy—Raud’s energy, as if he wasn’t in Valhalla at all.

“My love,” she said, clutching the bloodstone to her chest over the fur. “I will pray to the gods that we find each other.”

“What do you have?” Erik called from the tree line.

“My clothing.”

“Bring it here.”

She tucked the bloodstone back into the pouch, and once again shook the pants. This time the woolen tunic dislodged and fell to the beach. She scrunched it in her hand, along with the pants, and still holding the fur tight around her body, she made her way to Erik.

He was throwing sticks from the forest onto the beach.

“Start stacking,” he ordered her.

“Ja, Jarl Erik.” As best she could one-handed—for she had no intention of revealing her nakedness again—she began to build a small pyre.

After a few minutes Erik stomped from the forest, stooped and grasped a small dry bunch of grass. He used his dagger against the iron toecap of his boot to create a spark and light the tinder.

Within minutes flames were licking upward and with them a spindle of smoke.

Silently, Erik stood, marched back into the forest, shoving at a few elder branches, and disappeared into the darkness.

Further along the beach, Tali and Gunnvar were scouring the shore. They held several items: shield, swords, a wooden box, and what appeared to be the chicken basket.

“You are of little use to us naked.” Erik was at her side again. “Hang your clothes on this to dry.” He stabbed two thick branches into the sand then using his knife, hacked out two V’s in the top and set another across it.

“I could have done that,” she said, dragging her attention from his waistline. It was lean beneath his tight leather tunic and from his belt hung daggers, trinkets, and pouches no doubt carrying keys and coins.

“I’ve done it now.” Without a glance her way, he turned and again was swallowed by the forest.

Ingrid sighed; with the exhaled breath came a mixture of frustration and irritation. She didn’t want Erik to think she was helpless because she wasn’t. All her life she’d prided herself in her strength and ability to survive. If part of his anger at her being a woman was because he thought her a burden, then he was sorely mistaken.

Princess Ingrid Baardsen was a capable, independent shield maiden, despite her privilege and she didn’t need minding like a child.

Even so, she dutifully hung her clothing on the branch, then set to stoking the fire. Some of the wood was damp and the smoke stung her eyes, so she sat downward from the breeze.

Gingerly, she felt the cut on her head. As Tali had pointed out it wasn’t deep, but the surrounding swelling was pulpy and sore. Her hair held a few globules of blood that had dried into scabby crisps. She supposed she should thank the gods she’d simply bruised her skull and not cracked it open like a walnut.

“Where’s Jarl Erik?” Tali called her way.

“In the forest.”

He jerked his chin toward the trees to her left. “That way?”

“Ja.”

He dropped a pile of finds then marched into the shadows, his boots flicking sand up behind him.

She studied what he’d brought. There were shields and swords, and also another fur.

Gunnvar was also coming her way. He held a huge wooden box that he had to stretch his arm span to hold. Atop it rested the chicken basket and miraculously one creature appeared alive.

“Here,” he said, dropping it all to the sand at her side. Tiny grains puffed upward, a few skittered into the fire. “Food for this eve, and the morn.”

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