wound.
All
three of them understood what had happened in the main hall: the wolf came in
through a blown-in door, or perhaps through another way, as part of the wall,
buffeted by gales, collapsed. Either way, at that moment, none of that
mattered. What mattered now was Gudrid lay prone and Halla cradled a young
babe.
Eskil
sprung up and took a step forward as he threw his shoulders back and spread his
arms, prepared to throw himself at the beast if need be. To him, the most
important things in the world lay behind him. He yelled, “By Odin, I will kill
you!”
The
great beast lowered its head and began a deep and rumbling growl. But, unable
to keep its head level or still, it kept shifting it to the side.
Eskil
said, “The beast is sick, the side of its head unclean!”
A
great and ugly scar sat between the wolf’s left eye and ear. At the centre of
the pink and horrid tissue rose a weeping lump of yellowed infection. The eye
closest to the injury was swollen half shut.
Eskil
took another step forward, spreading his arms and flexing his fingers before
clenching them into fists. He bellowed, “No wolf is welcome in this hall! I
will tear you apart if I have to, even if I must use my teeth!”
The
men of Godsland, in their own storm of noise and fury, then came charging back
into the main hall with the axe, the hall’s blades, fire-hardened spears and
burning brands.
The
wolf swung around and snarled, snapping its yellow teeth ferociously, but was
overwhelmed by so many foes.
Ballr,
Steinarr, Erik and Torrador fell upon the great beast with their weapons,
stabbing and carving, kicking and punching.
The
wolf was pinned down, blood leaking from its wounds to darken its matted coat.
The great beast struggled against them, lashing out with claw and maw, but it
seemed unable to find flesh. Realising the futility of attack, the creature
tried to escape, but quickly losing its strength, it could not rise, but rather
slipped on its own lifeblood.
Within
a few more heartbeats, it was over.
Eskil
advanced on the tangle of dying wolf and men with their crude and bloody
weapons. “What happened?”
Ballr
shook his head. “It must have been outside when the worst of the storm came. We
were checking the old tent after the door blew in, since some of the old
timbers hit the top of the hall’s wall and damaged it and the door frame.”
With
the wolf dead, Steinarr rushed to help his brother, who was struggling against
the storm to close the damaged door.
“What
did it?”
“The
tent frame collapsed, the supporting timbers fell down to hit the corner of the
hall. When we went out to check on what happened, the wolf must have made its
way inside.”
The
swirling wind died down.
With
a glance, Eskil could see that Steinarr and Samr had forced the door closed
against the storm, and shoved two salvaged oars in place to hold it.
Eskil
turned back to Gudrid and his newborn son. “No matter, the wolf is no longer a
threat.”
Steinarr
grinned. “Not to the Hall of Ravens!”
Part II
-
Wolf Sign
Chapter 5
-
Smoke
Winter
came and went, a dark time of meagre food. Storms battered Godsland and buried
it under heavy snows, while the waters of the fjord froze over. The long and
tedious season consisted primarily of being holed up in the hall and waiting
for better weather to come. Together, they all suffered through it, working on
what they might, while shut away from the worst of Markland’s cold and gloom.
During
that first winter, young Ulfarr grew, feeding from his mother’s teat. In time,
like the hopes of their settlement, he began to blossom as the cool waned and
spring neared.
When
the weather eased, the people of Godsland escaped the confines of their warm
but smoke-filled hall. They emerged leaner, but more than relieved, dreaming of
the more varied foods the previous summer provided: birds and their eggs, fresh
fish, crab, hares and even berries. Their bland winter diet had kept them
alive, but they all