Viking, me.

Chapter 19- "beg for more"

"Shit" I whisper. I plant myself right back around the corner out of sight.

"What was that?" I heard Siggy ask, her voice a light 'protect me' tone. I push against the wall more. I don't want to be seen, but Siggy is the only person I can talk to.

"Go on home, I'll find you later"
I could hear them leaving
I'm clearly not out of site as well as I thought because a hand grabs my arm and yanks me around the corner.

"Ha! The very one" he said grabbing my wrist and tugging me roughly around the corner. "The doe who lopes in the grass needs to learn to hide in the wood". I struggle against his grip.

I'm not scared of him but of the possibility of Sven being rather angry.
"Sven had warned me you might slip out if his sight, and if you did to return you immediately" he paused ponderously " I'm curious as to why he holds you to close, and demands of your presence" he cocks an eyebrow.
It's still a strange sensation. I'm hearing the hacking and throat sounds but I'm comprehending their meaning clear like river water.

He looked me over and by the look in his eyes I knew he was drawing his own conclusions. "No wonder" his eyes returning to my face after an long lustful haze "- you're his slave he does what he wants with you"

He was quick in his step and eagerness in his speech. He started us off and back into the crowd. His black rimmed eyes away darted from place to place. He dragged me through the streets. Sven didn't live to far away but it took some time, trying to get though the crowds that filled the streets within an inch of your breath.

People would try to stop the cart man and talk to him, about carting things too and froe for them at a bargaining price. He'd stop and talk for a minuet but then tell them his 'niece' from a nearby village needed to get home. They didn't question it with 'isn't that Sven's servant girl?' Or 'she's a slave!' Because he had me pull up my cloak hood as not to give my appearance away.

It took longer than expected to get home- Wait did I just think that?!
I gazed down the road when we had once more been stopped. I felt a little lift in my heart at the sight of him. Rúan.

He glanced my way by chance, and our eyes met, a muddled exasperation on his face. He wasn't wearing his monks robes, but a thickly woven shirt and leather plated trousers and boots. He has joined this culture. Lost his ways and found a new path. I bit my lip. Worried that I'd never see the face of a true Irish man again.

"Who's that?" A young blond woman stabbed. She had bright blue eyes and a shield over her back. I inhaled deeply. That shield maiden. The one who thought of me as a "distrusting wench" or so Sven said in one of our late night disputes. This was the very woman who had stormed the garden and threw fiery tongues of rage on Sven.

"My sisters daughter" the cart man briskly said. He bustled past her.

"Your sisters family is dead" she said simply. By the look on his face when he looked back to me I knew this was true. I held my breath. There was a flickering emotion in his eyes and a quiver in his lip. A sensitive issue for him I assume.

-so he is human- I muse.
The evening was falling and the air was chilling. Fires were being lit and we arrived at the gate. There was an unusual buzz of life in the town today, finely dressed warriors and nobles had been walking past us. A meeting perhaps?

There was a whack and a thump. The cart man opened the gate and shoved me in infront of him. The wood clanked -somewhat- and closed. In the instant of his silence Sven looked up. He hit the axe head into the chopping block and then slapped the palms of his hands together. Sven had a sheen of sweat over his exposed torso. And the toned muscles somehow bulged to give him the ultimate warrior body.