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Viking Blood
Category: Historical
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The end.