Wolves Among Danes

by Dolly Nightmare

  I do not fail to see her eye roll unlike the blonde Viking. She says softly, her voice still containing annoyance. “Anyway Frey...you get my point, feed her. The poor girl must be starving. And keep an eye on the bite wound. Look out for infections...She’s human. Anything can happen, our Gods will not protect her.”

  “Duly noted.” I hear the other man with the crescent moon on his forehead say a few words and I turn my head towards him. He then walks to me holding an apple in his hand and a knife in the other.

  My heart pounds in my chest and I instantly stiffen as he walks from the front of the boat to the back where I was.

  My eyes focus on the knife. I was going to be his dinner, and after he was done stabbing me, I would be nothing but a pig with an apple stuffed into my mouth.

  I draw away as he nears and my back meets the wall of the boat. My eyes also get big, and I can’t help but cower in fear. A searing and throbbing pain returns in my neck. As I can’t pull back any further, he gives me a devilish smirk before kneeling in front of me.

  He then coos something at me, but yet again I don’t understand his tongue.

  “I won’t hurt you...Well, except this...”

  He taps the side of his neck, most likely talking about my bite.

  “You should be grateful about that and bear it proudly. A couple of years’ time you will understand more.”

  As he speaks to me, his knife gracefully slices through the apple, and he cuts a piece off before offering it to me. His hand outstretches and he pushes the fruit to my lips. My stomach feels empty, and it looks appealing and smells good to me.

  I go to open my mouth to eat the fruit, and I hear a familiar voice yell out to me, “Don’t eat it, Ellie! It could be poisoned.”

  I immediately close my mouth, refusing the food and I turn my head, looking in the direction of my tied-up friend. The man guarding the children glowers and stands before them, striking her on the spot.

  She whimpers, and I glare, grinding my teeth.

  I go to stand and to teach the man a lesson, my anger getting the best of me but immediately when I try to raise to my feet, I am shoved back down by the man kneeling in front of me.

  He grins some more, the knife he held in his separate hand now put in the same hand in which he was holding the apple. “Not so fast, lass. Don’t go challenging something you can’t take on.”

  I glare at him too this time, the fear waning but the mark bestowed on my neck throbs reminding me not to get him angry again. My eyes also fall on the scratches I gave him on his face.

  They should have been much worse, but they seem to be thin scabbed lines now.

  My mind also races to try to figure out, exactly what he was. What I saw before passing out was not my imagination. He had the teeth of a wolf, but now looking at him, his teeth seem normal besides the fact that his canines seemed to be a lot longer than the average man.

  I also see his jaws move, most likely eating what I didn’t eat earlier. Then it isn’t poisoned like Margaret had said?

  I give him a look of suspicion, and he shifts slightly, sitting down across from me, and he slices off another piece from the apple, and he says in his native tongue, “Go on—eat, lass.”

  My stomach growls, tempting me to eat what he has offered again, and my head turns to see Margaret’s red-stained cheek from the harsh slap she suffered earlier.

  I would like to refuse this man’s food, but as I look back to see his foreboding blue eyes, I decide it was best not to anger him, so I take the apple slice from his fingers and eat it quickly.

  As I eat, I can’t help but glance over to Margaret along with the other children. I start to feel extreme guilt as I chew and swallow the food and he seems to praise me in his native tongue.

  “That’s a good girl. Go on, eat up.”

  He keeps on cutting the apple into slices and offering me what is cut, and much to my dismay, I let my hunger cloud my judgment, and I eat what is given me in fear this might be the only thing he gives me in a long time.

  As he cuts most of the apple’s flesh, he sets the knife down on the boat’s deck and eats from the apple’s core.

  I can’t help but feel my eyes linger on what could be used as a potential weapon. Then my eyes look to him who sits in front of me.

  I push my knees to my chest, and as I go to quickly move for the knife that is set down, he grabs it before I can, and he grins devilishly at me and he speaks some more in his native tongue. “You gave yourself away with your eyes...”

  He waves the knife at me, and I curl my lip at him in frustration. He tuts at me some more as he stands and sits on one of the barrels filled with some sort of treasure to which he stole from my home.

  He grins before he eats everything he can off the apple and tosses the core into the ocean. “Better luck nice time,” he says snottily to me, and I just know its snotty from the tone of his voice.

  I look away from him, deciding to ignore this devil, angry at him and angry at myself for being so noticeable with my actions.

  I then hear the cry of seagulls above my head, so I glance up to find them flocking above. I could only stare and how I wished I had wings. Then I would be granted so much more freedom than I had at this very moment.

  With the flocking seagulls above our heads, I sit up more and notice all the greenery now surrounding us as the boat approached land.

  My eyes observe our surroundings, the many trees and the very large waterfalls running down from the top of the mountains. I was awestruck, but I quickly keep myself from gawking remembering these were the devil’s lands most likely.

  In the distance, a horn bellows and a lot of the men smile. Some of them stand to wave their arms in glee, and the man with the crescent moon on his forehead speaks.

  “Welcome to your new home little lass. Hope you like it here because you won’t be leaving.” He grins and stands traveling to the front of the boat, and as I don’t understand his words, I have a feeling they were all but pretty.

  Chapter 4

  Home

  I watch as the men start to file out of the boat and hop down onto the deck one by one. I stand there shrinking away from all the men that pass by and also praying and hoping they won’t notice me right away so I can find something sharp and stab the man’s throat out who slapped Margaret, the one guarding the rest of the children who haven’t left yet.

  Killing...I knew it wasn’t right, but these men slaughtered without a second thought. If I weren’t careful, I would be one of their next victims and that man who hurt Margaret would pay. No doubt had that old man took lives, and who knew what he wanted to do with those children he was guarding.

  My eyes linger dangerously at the man as he stands, stretches slightly, and yawns lazily.

  As men push past me eager to greet the noisy crowd that had gathered on the land or get back to their demon lairs, I am lifted suddenly out of the boat by the back of my dress by a brute of a man with fur around his shoulders. The cream-colored furs catch my eyes and I glance back slightly as I am lifted in the air.

  I am startled, and my heart thunders in my chest. My cotton dress cuts more into my underarms and threatens to rip like before when being manhandled. He drops me on to an old muddy, creaky deck to which the boat was tied to.

  Luckily, I land on both my feet, the way he dropped me gentle compared to most of how the other men could and would have treated me.

  The man then comes out of the boat from behind me and onto the deck. It is then that I look behind me and crouch down like a scared dog or cat once I see him.

  His eyes are a dark brown, nearly black like the demons I was told about, and he has no hair on top of his head. Instead, he has an odd symbol on his head of a tree inside a circle.

  He is quiet and says nothing as he towers over me, taller than any of the giants already here.

  I feel my heart pound as he stares down at me. He says nothing, only grunts at something and walks away, taking slow strides and heading into the crowd of p
eople surrounding the docks.

  I also feel like a lost animal as I look around in confusion, standing on the deck. My eyes stare at the people speaking in their native tongue, and I watch some of the brutes greet women who resemble housewives and children. Did demons even have children...or wives for that matter?

  Then right after a loud footed person hops down from the boat, and I see a familiar head full of blonde hair and a sun tattoo.

  He smiles down at me and approaches me before humming something out in a playful tune. “Ah, so sorry Frey’s little mate. I nearly forgot about you. Can’t have that now, can I? I was told to bring you back to our mother’s house. Frey has some things he has to take care of on the boat, and this is a much better task than unloading everything. Or, well, I think so.”

  These barbarians always act like I understand them...As If I know their devil’s tongue.

  I glare at him, my eyes lingering on the other children on the boat still and that man who is standing and speaking to the other man who bit me—the man who put me in this position. What was going to happen to them now??

  My heart clenches tightly in my chest, and my eyes focus back on the blonde man who is in front of me now and still smiling.

  He then does a motion with his hands, signaling me forward and says with a slight accent, “Ladies first.”

  My eyes widen and I stare, shocked that he spoke in the same tongue that I did, and I ask him, my voice seeming to be lost and faded, “You speak English?”

  He seems to understand me, grinning still, and he replies understanding my words. “A little....Now,” He grabs my shoulders, and I tense as he pushes me forward, “let’s go.”

  “Where?” I ask, slightly panicked and bothered. The man behind me continues to push me forward, and I am afraid if I give him a hard time I will be thrown in the water or worse. I didn’t know how to swim...

  “Home,” is all he replies. The people in the crowd stare and they seem to respect the man behind me, making room for him once we near them.

  My eyes roll over almost every single one of them—women, men, even other children who seem to take curiosity in me as they stare at me from the crowd. One, in particular, is a brown-haired boy, a little older than I am now. Perhaps the same age as my brothers.

  He peers curiously at me, but I pay him no mind.

  “Home,” I repeat back to him in a worried tone.

  “Yes, home,” he says, almost annoyed, and he sighs heavily after.

  I stare more at the town’s scene, my heart thundering. I want to dig my feet into the fresh dirt, but I don’t dare, more scared than anything.

  My bravery was gone in seconds. Flashes of the people they killed right in front of my eyes, constantly replay in my head.

  It appeared to be like a village, and everyone was busily moving about. There were also people out in the streets selling pelts, chickens and other goods.

  Everything was happening so fast. I am unused to this place and people and their way of life. I then see a fight right in the midst of the street and everyone crowds around in front of the tavern where the brawl is taking place. The savages either hollers in excitement or “boos” at the men, while others laugh heartily.

  I want to avoid drawing close to such a scene, but the man behind me continues to push me forward and towards it, uncaring.

  Then he stops once, drawing closer, keeping one hand on my shoulder as if making sure I wasn’t going to run away from him.

  He approaches a mean looking woman on the side of the building, leaning up against it. She is blonde and heavy makeup cakes her eyelids.

  He then asks, “Where is Runa? I need to talk to her.” Though I can’t understand him like before, seeming to revert back to his own language.

  The woman smirks slightly and replies to him in the same language. “Inside. Why?”

  He is quiet for some time before he says something in response and then afterward slapping my shoulder slightly which makes me narrow my eyes at him knowing I was being talked about now. “I just need to talk to her...It’s about the brat...I was wondering if she would have food for her.”

  The blonde woman looks down at me then back at the blonde Viking, and she says, “Who’s the girl? And she’s a little busy to be going around and feeding stray brats. Though, I suppose I could whip up something for her.”

  “The girl is Frey’s mate, and I see...I will come back another time then,” the man says next, and the woman glowers over something he said.

  He works around her and the crowd after their small talk where the fight was currently happening.

  I glance towards the two burly men, and when the one punches the shorter man his tooth goes flying. I flinch as he falls and hits the ground, causing the crowd to cheer in excitement, someone has finally won.

  ‘Devils...All of them,’ I think in my head over and over as I am walked through the town of wild and bustling devils running rampant.

  “Scared?” The blonde coos and acts childish. As he lowers his head to look at me, I notice his long braid falls off his shoulder and runs down his back.

  I stare at him, glaring and not saying anything in response. He only laughs at me some more. “Don’t worry,” he says, slapping my shoulder again, and I start to get irritated at the goofy-like blonde. “You’re Frey’s little mate.”

  “Mate?” I question him, frowning.

  Mates....wasn’t that a term used for animal couples? I hear it often when women in the palace talked about birds or other wildlife and how they were paired.

  “Yes, mate. You’re bonded with him,” he says, and we grow further away from the crowded areas of the town into calmer parts as we walk along the dirt roads.

  “Who?” I ask in a worried tone.

  “Frey,” he responds.

  “Frey,” I retort, irritated.

  Who is Frey? His name is weird.

  He grins some more and instead of walking behind me he walks side by side. He seems to be a lot easier to get along with than that other man. Well, for a devil anyway....

  “Frey is...” he says looking up and thinking of a way to describe him, “the man with the moon.” He taps his head where his sun tattoo is.

  My eyes widen slightly. “Oh.”

  I touch my neck again, my eyes narrowing. Had he marked me like some animal, then? So, they’re devils or perhaps just people who work for the true devils since they did bear a human face and body.

  “Shouldn’t be surprised, lass,” he says, grinning. “He’s the one who brought you here and marked you.”

  I stare up at him, then in front of me where I walk, and I notice we get to the end of the town where the woods begin, but I do note a dirt trail that travels further up into the dark forest.

  The man nudges me, urging me to go forward, and I instantly obey but at the same time feel anxious and worried.

  The more I walk into the woods, the more my brain starts thinking as I’m surrounded by thick and full trees.

  Why are we going into the woods? Am I going to be fed to some beast or the Devil himself? Was he going to kill me and is tricking me with his calm attitude?

  I panic internally and out, and as I walk further into the woods, I look over my shoulder and see the blonde man following right behind me, no longer walking side by side. He is not close, yet not too far away from me.

  He seems to be caught off guard from me looking at him as before he was frowning but his facial expression changes immediately and he smiles again, waving me to go forward more and turn back around.

  I scowl, turning around again, and my fingers curl into my palm. Should I make a run for it? He seemed to have no interest in chasing me before, but that was during the pillaging.

  Would it be different now if I make a break for it? Probably.

  Should I take the chance? Probably.

  Would I die? Probably.

  Will I die either way? Probably.

  I swallow as I think about my doom in the dark forest, and I have a mental talk with
myself. All I can do is silently pray in my head as I continue to walk, following the trail with the blonde Viking right behind me.

  Eventually, there comes a bright light which is the sun, an ending of this miserable dark trail. Once we step out of the small forest, I notice a house in the far distance, a long narrow one with a barn not too far away from it.

  The more I stare, I notice small things of how the houses were oddly built, the geese waddling on the land and also the horses grazing out in the field by the large barn-like hut.

  Again, my back is nudged telling me to go forward to which I comply, oddly enough. If I were to run where would I go, anyway?

  I don’t know the layout of the land, there are strange people everywhere I look and either way all I saw was my death. I had given up, my thoughts and fears destroying me.

  I walk more up the small hill to the house, then the blonde Viking seemingly gets excited, and instead of walking behind me he walks side by side with me again.

  He starts to walk a little in front of me and before he can go towards the door of the home it opens, revealing an older middle-aged woman with a worn brown apron and white cotton dress.

  She wipes her hands on it, and she stares at the blonde man, her eyes an icy blue and her hair a midnight black and curly, much like the man with the moon on his forehead.

  “Leif, who is this?” she asks in their native tongue, and she stares at me with curiosity as she speaks, her eyes immediately zoning in on my neck which sends shivers down my spine for some reason.

  The man smirks and replies to the older woman. He also turns slightly to look at me, and I suddenly feel uneasy. “Frey’s mate, apparently. A little young at the moment, but she’s gonna have to get used to our way of life, anyway. She’s a Christian...and only knows English.”

  “I see,” the woman says in English and again with a soft accent before she smiles brightly at me. “Well, welcome to your new home my first daughter-in-law. You have a lot to learn.”