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"Astrid! Astrid, where are you? Your mother is looking for you!" shouted Freya, with a note of anxiety in her voice, as she went deeper and deeper into the dense forest, searching for the missing child.
As she advanced through the trees, the forest became darker and quieter. The wind made the branches sway slightly, and Freya heard the echo of her footsteps on the leaf-covered ground. She paused for a moment to listen, hoping to hear a sign of Astrid's presence.
"Let's play a game: if on the count of three you don't show up, I'll never let you ride Cloud with me again!" she said, her voice echoing through the boots. A small snicker echoed from somewhere near her, and Freya couldn't help but smile with a sigh of relief.
"One..."
"Two..."
"Three-"
"I'm here!" cried Astrid joyfully, leaping out of her hiding place in the bushes. The golden-haired child ran quickly towards Freya, throwing herself into her arms with a contagious laugh.
Freya held her tightly, lifting her off the ground. "There you are, you little troublemaker. How many times have we told you that wandering the woods alone is dangerous?"
"But i just wanted to play!" replied Astrid, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Freya looked at her fondly, aware that this curious and lively child had grown up amidst the dangers of those wildernesses, but nevertheless, she could not resist her desire for adventure. "I know, little one. But next time, at least wait for someone to go with you, alright? Promise?"
Astrid nodded enthusiastically, clutching even tighter to Freya, who held her close, reassured that she had found her safe and sound.
"Come on, let's go. Your mother is waiting for us," said Freya, taking Astrid by the hand. Together, they started walking towards the village, leaving the dense forest behind them.
Autumn was deepening, and the bitter cold was beginning to creep into their bones, testing the villagers' endurance. Fallen leaves crunched under their footsteps, and a light mist began to rise from the fields.
Once they reached the village, Freya accompanied Astrid to her mother, who greeted her with an affectionate smile and a playful rebuke. Then, Freya headed towards her best friend Sylvie, who was intent on weaving a thick blanket, made of sheep's wool, to prepare for the approaching winter.
"What are you up to, Vi?" asked Freya, approaching with curiosity.
"My mother is forcing me to weave blankets for the coming winter, and I am already tired. You, did you find that brat sister of mine?" huffed Sylvie, casting an exasperated glance at the loom.
Freya giggled and sat down next to her friend, observing Sylvie's work. "Yes, I found her. She was hidden very well. But you must remind her never to enter the woods alone again. You never know who or what might be in there."
Sylvie sighed, nodding. "I know, I'll try to keep her away, but that little girl has a hard head. It's like chasing the wind."
The girls lost themselves in chatter, the crackling of the fire and the rhythm of the loom playing in the background, until Freya, in a more serious tone, asked: "What do you think will happen this winter?"
Sylvie suspended her work, fixing her gaze towards the horizon, where the sea stretched endless and threatening. "I don't know, Frey, but I'm worried. This village can't take another raid, but you know the Danes won't stop easily."
"I know, but-" Freya could not finish her sentence. The sudden shouts of the village men interrupted her.
"Ships! Ships to port!" they shouted, with a mixture of alarm and tension that made the blood run cold in the two girls' veins.
Freya and Sylvie exchanged a look full of apprehension, knowing that those quiet moments were over.
Freya stood up, looking determined, and said to Sylvie: "I'll go and see what's going on. You try to get all the citizens to their homes." Without waiting for a reply, the two girls split up, aware of the impending danger.
Freya ran towards her house, where she grabbed her daggers and the sword she always kept ready. With her heart pounding, she walked quickly towards the harbour, ready to face whatever was about to befall their village.
