Page 18 of Shared By the Vikings

She nodded and reached for the basket. “I’ll prepare this chicken.”

He didn’t respond, instead he gestured to her clothing. “Yours?”

“It is.”

“Good.”

“Erik and Tali went into the forest.”

“To find material to build a shelter with,” he said.

“The weather is fine.”

“The weather here changes fast.”

She thought of the storm. “I understand.”

“Watch the fire.”

“Of course.”

Gunnvar, like the other two warriors she’d found herself stranded with, melted into the darkness.

She set to work plucking the dead chicken. It was no feast but young and plump and it would mean they had something to line their bellies with before sleep called.

The feathers skittered toward the sea as she released them, and the bird’s pale flesh was revealed. Its fellow sea traveler appeared stunned by its ordeal and sat with its eyes closed in the basket, its plumage matted with salt.

Soon she had the fowl gutted and roasting on a spit over the fire. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed hot food, and despite the nagging headache her stomach rumbled.

Just as the meaty scent was becoming hard to resist she heard stomping and crunching from behind her.

Leaping up, she turned, acutely aware of her vulnerability without a weapon. She lunged for a heavy sword and held it aloft, the sun glinting off the blade.

Branches parted and a face appeared from the shadows.

Erik.

He frowned at her as he marched past the tip of the blade.

“I thought you were...” she said.

“There’s no one to be found.” He dumped a pile of undergrowth on the beach.

“Ja, we can’t see a soul.” Gunnvar also emerged holding a huge armful of hacked branches. “I’ll set up here.” He nodded to the right of the fire. “In case rains come.”

“They will.” Erik prodded the chicken. “Tali is bringing more food.”

“He is?”

Erik didn’t reply, instead he flicked open the box Gunnvar had carried up the beach. From it he removed a clay bottle and tugged off a cork stopper. He held it to his mouth, tipped his head, and drank deeply.

His hair-coated throat dipped and rose as mead slid down his gullet. He closed his eyes as though savoring the moment—a tired, seafaring warrior after a long day and a brush with a watery death.

“Here.” Tali suddenly appeared at her side. He dropped three dead rabbits on the sand beside the fire. Each had their skulls smashed. “We will eat well, Ingrid.”

He tipped his mouth into a lopsided grin and she realized she liked the way he’d said her name. It was much better than the roughly barked ‘boy’ she’d become used to.

“You will cook them?” he asked.

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