Raid

VI

Braum lunged at his opponent, thrusting with his weapon. The Heathen brushed the strike aside with the shaft of the axe, the return strike would be with the blade of the axe. Aksel feinted a finishing blow and Braum closed his eyes, preparing for the bittersweet sting of death. Pulling his axe away from his opponent Aksel said, Nei Kristían, stungið ekki. as he turned to walk back to his starting position. Braum was breathing heavily, still unsure as to what exactly was going on. Aksel positioned his feet again; ready for combat.

Braum was looking at the Heathens feet and his own to compare when the sight of his opponents genitalia swaying in the wind took him aback. Dress yourself? Please.. Aksel looked at his clothes on the ground and back up to Braum with an inquisitive eyebrow, Oh, viltu að ég klæði mig? he asked. He already knew the answer by the stubborn way the Anglo-Saxon was standing and began collecting his clothes

There the two sat; the most unlikely pair one could ever see. The Northman equipping his leathers and the East Anglian standing by to see what happens. About that time the two could see the faint orange glow of the rising sun. As soon as the light hit the top of the cave, Braum said, Scit! Modor! and ran off in the direction of the village without giving it a second thought. Aksel looked up from his halfway-donned trousers at the noise of Braums footfalls. He was unsure as to why the Saxon had suddenly begun sprinting through the woods, was it because the sun was almost up and he could see now? Did he have a rooster to keep from waking up the neighbours?

His fingers still stuck in his pants that hed outgrown last year, he looked on toward the trail of the Anglo-Saxon running through the forest. Beside the trail he could see the boar, it looked at him, then down the trail. Hvað?, he asked. It repeated this a couple of times before snorting at Aksel in frustration. He made sure his trousers were on correctly, urinated on the fireplace, and set off to follow his new companion.

Upon passing by the boar he inquired again, Þú vilt að ég fylgi honum?. The boar snorted in affirmation. Fínt..

Braums lungs felt like they had been ignited in flame. Hed only ever moved that quickly through the wilderness once before; when his father had draped a pelt over a log and told him it was a bear in his youth. His feet pounded against the forest floor and the logs scattered around it. The morning wind and smell of dew flew past him with each stride.

Finally, he burst out of the treeline. In front of him were rolling hills and grass. Braums head flew left and right; searching for any sign of the village. Scit scit scit!, he cursed to himself. Out of desperation, he continued sprinting up the hill in front of him in hopes of gaining a better view. His thighs started burning and his breath became laboured upon reaching the incline, but stopping was not an option. Once he made it to the crest of the hill, he looked at all of his surroundings. To the right of the hill, he could spy the top of one of the houses in the village. As soon as he registered this, his marathon began again. Using the initial downhill slope to propel himself forward.

After cresting the next two hills, Braum found himself just outside the village he resided in. He moved to one end of the main cobblestone road; looking through the entire town. The exhaustion overtook him and his sprint turned to a brisk walk. Braums eyes moved from one door to the other; scanning for anyone noticing his odd, nocturnal habits. Sounds of someone erratically running over stone made its way to the Saxons ears. Soon after he heard this, a figure came running into his view from the intersecting road. It was spinning around; violently looking in every direction. Braums pace quickened, and the persons gaze met his. He then heard a voice he recognized, Sun!. Before he knew it, his mother had run over and embraced him; almost knocking the wind out of him. He buried his face in her hair, the scent immediately calming him; reminding him of his happiest childhood memories. In between sobs Braum spoke, Im sorry mo-, she cut him off, Shush child and tightened her arms around her boy; squeezing tears out of them both.