Screaming. It woke her up in her tiny cell, and it wasn't the usual sound of torture that she had learned to tune out since they threw her in here. The young brunette quickly bolted up from her bed, which was a gracious name for the pile of damp straw she placed in the far corner of her cell, and attempted to peek outside her door.
Standing on her toes, she pressed her cheek against the wooden door, barely able to see down the long corridor where the guard usually sat. He was gone. Whatever chaos was outside was enough for even the guard to leave his post.
She rushed away from the door and started digging through the pile of straw for the piece of metal she had managed to get her hands on and hurried back to the door. There had never been a perfect opportunity for her to escape, and with the guard gone, this was her chance. She managed to pick the lock with a bit of effort, and when the door swung open, she didn't hesitate to run down the hall to where they hung the keys.
The other prisoners knew she didn't speak. Some thought she was mute or perhaps too stupid, but some realized it was a choice when she took her first beating without making a sound. Yet none expected her to return with the keys and open all their cells. Saxons and Danes alike, each throwing a rushed blessing before joining the chaos outside.
She was quick to follow the small parade of men outside, and as soon as they realized the town was in the midst of battle, they turned on each other in an instant. All the woman did was pause and take a deep breath, free from the stench of her cell and others. It was her moment of peace, considering she didn't hold any loyalty to the Saxons or the Danes.
The plan now was to steal a horse or some food and leave the town as quickly as possible. Rushing from the safety of the shadows, she ran through the winding streets clogged with fighting men, and none paid her any mind until a Saxon man she freed grabbed her roughly by the shoulder.
"Get out of here. The church is still protected and will be safe for you." He ordered, only to be left with a look of surprise when she shoved him away. "So you're one of those filthy heathens." The man's expression darkened as he turned on her instantly, spouting nonsense about how she was a deceiver or a spy.
The stories he wove from one action made her almost impressed if it weren't for the fact that he was approaching her with a dagger in his hand. When he attacked, it was clear that the man didn't expect her to know how to fight. He lunged, expecting it to be the only necessary move, but before he could even comprehend his error, the young girl had turned his blade against him and buried it into his neck.
Blood splattered across her face as she looked over his choking frame before taking the dagger for herself. Now, she at least had a weapon, and with that simple thought, she stepped over the dead man and continued onward, but the blood across her face only invited more conflict.
No one could make sense of if she were Dane or Saxon, as any man who dared to attack the girl was taken on and quickly met the fate of all the others. Death. Wearing no armor, the blood of each fallen challenger mixed with her own as minor cuts or gashes appeared across her arms, legs, and torso. One even managed to cut her face. With each victory, she swapped weapons to what suited her. The dagger she took from the first man felt sturdy in her hand, but the axe she stole from the Dane that followed was not a weapon she used comfortably. From there, she found a sword.
Now armed with the dagger and a sword, she picked off a smaller Dane. She was weaving her way through battle with ease until a victor had finally been called. The Saxons had won, and the Danes were retreating, but the battle was far from over as the Saxons surrounded the wild girl before she could escape.
Uhtred watched out of curiosity from afar as his men circled a young girl lashing out at anyone who dared get too close. Her clothes suggested she was a Saxon, but the blood and the way she left a trail of bodies across the town had him wondering if she was a Dane.
