A Viking's Catch (Book One of the Sogn Series)

Chapter One

Two formatting issues with this story that I am trying to fix:

1. Indents only show up some of the time. I know, it bothers me, too...

2. Scene breaks are characterized by "vvv" but I am planning on changing them to hashtags. Just look out for "vvv" and know that is where the scenes change.

The waves were fuming as the wind cried out to the water, its last breeze ending in a fading whisper before all was still. Beyond the tide, the town's watch boy, who had shouted desperately to all who had been listening, had spotted six foreign ships. Many people packed what they could and fled the small settlement, but they would not get far before they either died by the hands of the Vikings, or entered a town that had already been raided by them.

Vikings. It was a frightening word to the townspeople of Wexford, as all towns from the mainland had at least been ambushed and now lay desolate. The towns were now barren of all that it once had, including its inhabitants.

The Vikings were notorious for killing men and children, raping women, and stealing what prosperity the church may hold, all for only the glory of their own Gods.

Now many Irish people had failed their God, just as it seemed that God had failed them. People went to the church and prayed and others killed themselves. But, there were the select few who stood on the shore and watched, wondering what Fate may have in store for them.

It would be reckless for a person to not fear the Vikings for it was fear that could save a person. There was one person though, that could be considered reckless because she did not fear the Vikings, or perhaps she did not fear her fate.

This person was a girl, only the age of seventeen, and fear she did not. Some had known her to be a fisherman's daughter, and others had known her to be a maiden who held such strong features, both in appearance and in spirit. This person was no other than Clare, who stood nearest to the tides with the several other townspeople behind her.

Her hair was as orange as the sunset itself, her eyes as green as the sea, and her form slender and curvy all at once. She was not petite nor was she tall, but she could hold her ground with as much confidence as her father, who stood just shortly behind her. He was her only kin, as her mother had died giving birth to her, which was both a blessing and a curse in itself because it was a life given and a life lost.

With her lips slightly parted, and her eyes wide with curiosity and excitement, Clare watched the ships approach the shore. By now, many had left their spots from behind her and had fled from the scene, but not her.

"Clare," her father shouted out to her, his voice gruff, "We must go and hide."

"No, to hide is to be a coward. Maybe they do not want to harm us, Father?" she retorted with such a vigorous tone.

She did not see her father frown, "I fear not, my child. Come," he said, taking her arm, "We must hide with the others."

Clare gave one last look to the sea, full of longing and regret, as her father pulled her away. The ships had come much closer now, and she could barely make out the shapes of the men on board.

Standing in the center on the closest ship, she saw one man in particular. He was leaning forward; grasping the lines in his hands to hold him back. His skin was bronze, unlike her pale complexion. His hair was long, unbleached but still a dirty blonde, and his face had a hard look that suggested his ambitious nature.

He looked at her.

His eyes appeared black from how dark they were, although Clare knew they could not be such a color. His unbreakable gaze made her adrenaline rush, goose bumps arising on her skin and her mouth falling open again.