Another two weeks passed. A month. I began to believe the winter would never end, and I’d been banned to the far reaches of hell by Carter, the devil. We stretched the grain to last for several weeks by eating bread every three or four days. The apples we kept for special occasions.

Ivor’s cousin – Sven – proved to be a better ally than Asvald or I knew what to do with. We left him meat three times a week. In return, he left us presents at least once a week. Sometimes, it was something small, like a worn knife, but once, it was a precious apple, worth its weight in gold and diamonds.

A month after we met, Asvald and Sigrid delivered a stag and remained rather than left. I stayed home with the kids in the warm cabin. Bjorn didn’t go far in his chores of gathering wood. I checked on him frequently.

The twins, almost four months old, were getting heavier and rolling on their own. They were a handful in the cabin, where there wasn’t much room to move let alone roll. My children took the lack of space as a personal dare. Kolfinna tried to help by corralling them and quietly chiding them whenever one of them ended up in a place we didn’t want them. Watching her try to carry Freydis was the highlight of my day.

Bjorn returned to the cabin before dusk, when the wolves were more active. He had his first solo kill: a rabbit. I skinned and gutted it then cooked it up in a pot. We passed around soup consisting of meat and broth, with some leaves from the non-pine trees.

A few hours past nightfall, when all of us had begun to doze, the door to the cabin opened.

I wrenched awake, not about to be caught off guard if a wolf or bear thought to attack us.

Asvald entered, trailed by Sigrid and Sven. Bjorn rose, glancing towards me a little uncertainly, while Kolfinna slept on, cuddled up with Ulf near the fire. I managed to stand without waking Freydis.

Sven looked around before his eyes fell to Freydis. He beamed a smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Is this her? My little cousin?” he asked and approached me, arms outspread.

None of us were really certain what to feel in that moment. I saw it on Asvald’s and Sigrid’s faces, and Bjorn appeared torn between suspicion and confusion. We had existed in harmony, just the seven of us. Sven’s presence felt like an intrusion into our world.

“What is her name?” Sven asked, oblivious to our discomfort.

I handed my daughter to Ivar’s cousin. “Freydis,” I replied.

“Beautiful. Both of them are.” He cradled her with the natural instinct of a father. “I lost my son to the fires. He was about this size.”

My distress melted. I didn’t think I could be suspicious of anyone who looked at a baby with such tenderness.

Sigrid closed the door behind her.

Asvald moved to the kettle over the fire in the hearth and spooned soup into a wooden bowl.

Sven sat with Freydis in his arms and accepted the bowl with his free hand.

“We found one cabin similar to this and built a second between storms,” he said. “My family died in the raid. I have been taking care of the families of others. It would be my honor to help care for my cousin Bjorn and Ivar’s children.”

Asvald and I gazed at one another. We were both torn about leaving the isolated cabin we all called home.

“We might need to think about it,” I answered on behalf of everyone in the cabin. “We are comfortable here. Hunting is good, and we have not had the trouble you have with wolves.”

“True,” Sven said. He drank his soup and chewed thoughtfully on the chunks of meat it contained. “You will always be welcome to my home and my food.”

“And you to ours,” Asvald returned. “If you want to hunt with me, I can help you take your kills home.”

“That is greatly needed,” Sven said with a grunt. “I have spent the past week repairing the roof of one of the cabins. It collapsed under the snow. If not for your meat, we would have had none.”

I felt bad for Sven, although he spoke with cheerfulness about his situation. I would never understand anyone who could smile during the worst day of their lives. Batu had been of a similar disposition, which left me equal parts baffled and envious. Anyone who could recall the feel of sunshine in the middle of a blizzard was a better person than I would ever be.

“I hope winter is over soon,” I mumbled and sat heavily.

“The snow should melt in a few weeks,” Asvald assured me. “Have you considered what you will do when it does?” This he addressed to Sven.

“If I survive? Happily offer the rest of my belongings to the gods in gratitude,” Sven replied. “I have considered whether or not to stay here. My heart wants me to remain in the village where my grandfather’s grandfather, and his father before him, settled.”

“Are there enough people to rebuild the village?” I asked.

“I believe so. I have roamed around the fjord, seeking out who might be left. Those who cannot fend for themselves, I bring back to my cabins. In spring, we will know for certain who has survived the winter.”

“I want to go home,” Bjorn said.

I had explained to him on more than one occasion that his home as he knew it was destroyed. I didn’t think he would truly understand until he witnessed what was left with his own eyes.

From his place in front of the fire, Ulf grumbled and then cried. I went to him automatically and picked him up.

“I have disturbed him,” Sven said and rose. He passed Freydis to Asvald. “I will return in a week or so. The dock area is halfway between our cabins. I will leave you more grain this week.”

“You cannot go this late at night,” I said. “If the wolves are as bad as you say, you’ll be in danger.”

Sven hesitated, as if sensitive to overstaying his welcome or perhaps, leaving his people vulnerable.

“Please stay,” Asvald seconded. “We have little, but we can feed you and give you a place to rest before you return.”

“Very well.” Sven sat down again. He finished off his soup.

My empathic memory chip was all green lights with Sven.

“Did you fight with my brothers?” Bjorn asked, sitting beside his cousin.

“I did. All of them. The men of our family are the mightiest of all warriors.”

Bjorn smiled.

Content we were in no danger from the stranger in our midst, I settled down to sleep with the twins in my arms.

* * *

Sven visited weekly. Asvald went to meet those under his protection weekly as well, and our two isolated locations became the foundation for a new community in the wilderness surrounding the fjord. Though their food stores were small, and hunting limited, Sven sent us the excess furs from the deer he killed, while one of the other people at his campsite carved toys out of bones and wood for the children.

The next month passed much more smoothly than any of the preceding weeks, partially because we began to understand we were not completely alone and struggling to survive. I had great hopes that spring would bring everyone together at the village, where we would rebuild and live peacefully once more. I didn’t think I could survive another winter in the cabin and didn’t want my twins to, either.

The weather grew warmer before it snapped once again into a blizzard as bad as any of those we’d already been through. The only problem: the meat we’d frozen in the trees had thawed during the two days of warm weather.

It was on the third night of the blizzard that we heard the howling of wolves, much closer than usual.

Asvald and I exchanged looks, concerned. He slid the bar down on the door, just in case, and checked the two windows to ensure they were battered closed.

The wolves continued to howl throughout the night, often sounding as if they were right outside the cabin. Their vocals blended with the blizzard. I stayed awake, surrounded by the children, and listened. Asvald sat by the door and dozed throughout the night. I took his alertness as a sign I needed to be alarmed, because I knew nothing of wolves or how bold they could be when it came to food.

The next morning, when there was a lull in the blizzard, Asvald and I went to check the trees, starting with the meat in the tree nearest to the cabin.

“How is this possible?” I asked. I touched the rope we used to raise and lower the food. It had been sawed, or chewed, through.

“Wolves are smart,” Asvald said, not at all surprised.

“Smart enough to know to bite through the rope?”

“They learn fast.”

I shook my head, impressed and more than a little scared. “Can they open doors, too?”

“They normally avoid people. But if they’re starving, they are smart enough to find vulnerabilities in walls and doors. We will need to check around the cabin.”

We moved on to the next tree, which was surrounded by too many wolf paw prints to count. The third tree still held its meat, while the fourth and fifth had also been stripped of food. We returned to the third tree.

“We can cook this one up today,” Asvald said. “Hopefully, if they do not smell meat, they will move on.”

“They won’t come after us, will they?”

“If they are starving, they will eat anything they can.”

We lowered the stag carcass to the ground and carried it together to the cabin. Asvald readied our spit while I circled the cabin.

More paw prints. They were everywhere. I looked over the cabin’s exterior without finding anything I’d classify as a vulnerability. The cracks between boards were wide enough to make us miserable when the wind was cold and sharp but too narrow for anyone but a child to slide a finger into.

“There,” Asvald said as he joined me.

Rather than indicating a spot along the bottom of the cabin, where I had been looking, he pointed upward, to the place where the cabin wall met the roof. A hole the size of my thigh was present.

“Are you serious?” I asked. “They can fit through that?”

“Not exactly. They can tear it apart to make it big enough for one of them to fit through.”

It had to be the freakiest thing I’d heard in the Viking Era. I imagined one wolf making it inside, wreaking havoc, and us opening the door to expel it, where all its friends waited to eat us.

The images in my head, realistic or not, scared me into action. I strode towards the cabin door.

“We should have a piece of firewood we can cover the hole with,” I said. “You can’t go hunting today, Asvald.”

“Wise,” he agreed. “We should all stay close for the next few days.”

“With any luck, the snowfall will discourage them.”

We spent the day cooking the last of our meat and reinforcing several points of the cabin, both inside and out. I lectured Bjorn about staying outside too long, and Sigrid barred the door after each of us returned from outside, just in case.

In the heightened state of alertness, we all went to bed with differing levels of concern. The twins slept through everything, while Bjorn took two knives to bed with him. Kolfinna slumbered cuddled up next to her mother, while the three adults stayed awake.

The howling resumed not long after nightfall. Asvald checked the door and windows as well as the repairs we had made to the cabin’s interior.

Sometime in early morning, I awoke to the sound of something smashing into the door. Bolting to my feet, I saw Asvald and Sigrid already armed and facing the door. Asvald had moved the stack of firewood against the door.

We waited.

Something smacked into the door again. My heart raced.

“Be perfectly still and quiet,” Asvald whispered.

I didn’t move, barely breathed. Neither of them did, either. The children – all of them – continued to sleep, completely unaware.

The sound didn’t come again.

After an hour of standing still, Asvald raised from his guarded position. I straightened. My muscles groaned after being stuck in one position. The adrenaline left my blood, and my senses returned to their normal states.

“Bear or wolf?” Sigrid asked Asvald, feature ashen.

“We will not know until morning.”

The two of them sat down again in their bed spaces, though neither lay down. I couldn’t relax, either, not when I knew something huge that wanted to eat me had been outside the door.

When dawn crept through the cracks in the walls, all three of us stirred. Asvald waited until it was fully light – as light as it got this far north – before he removed the stack of wood from the door and opened it.

No monsters awaited us outside. I swung a cloak around my shoulders and accompanied him into the snowdrifts.

Dozens, hundreds – if possible – of wolf paw prints had beaten down the snow around the cabin. But it was the massive bear print that caught Asvald’s attention. These prints were on top of those belonging to the wolves.

Asvald knelt beside the bear print. It had circled the cabin then moved on.

I observed his features, unable to gauge how much danger we were in, unless he told me or openly freaked out.

He stood after a pensive moment. “Sven and I agreed to come to one another’s aid, if needed. We are supposed to build a fire large enough for him to see the smoke from atop the bluff overlooking the fjord. We should prepare a small pyre today, first thing. And … a ladder for the nearest tree. If the worst happens, wolves and most bears cannot climb.”

“You’re worried,” I said, unsettled by his words.

“I am,” he admitted in a hushed tone. “In the village, wolves and bears rarely came close, and when they did, it was one or two venturing to the edges of the village. I cannot tell how large this wolf pack is, but this bear is the largest I have ever heard of. It can take down the door, if it is hungry enough.”

My breath caught in my throat. I doubted all of us combined could fight off a bear the size of the one I was imagining.

“But this kind of bear cannot climb trees,” Asvald added, sensing my panic. He looked around. “That one will do.” He indicated a massive tree whose girth indicated it was likely the oldest one in the vicinity.

“Should we stay there all night?” I asked, distressed.

“We may freeze.”

My eyes went up the trunk to the branches. We would have to climb pretty far, over twenty feet up, in order to reach the branches thicker than my midsection that might hold more than one or two of us.

“What if we build a shelter? We couldn’t have a fire, but we could protect everyone from the cold and snow.”

Asvald considered. Any other time, I was pretty certain he would have dismissed the suggestion. It had to sound strange to him. It was another sign of our danger when he nodded instead.

“I think that wise,” he said. “It will take us all day.”

“Let’s get started.”

I had never considered a tree house a necessity before this day.

Bjorn was in charge of chopping wood into hunks we could use as steps. Sigrid, whose aim with an axe was far better than mine, chopped shallow grooves into the side of the trunk where Bjorn’s chunky steps would rest. I helped Asvald choose and gather the wood we would use for the makeshift shelter.

When Bjorn and Sigrid’s duties were finished, Asvald tied one end of a rope to the stretcher stacked with wood then threw the other end upward over the thick tree branch closest to the ground. It took all four of us to haul the wood up to the branch. Our second rope, the only other one we possessed, was used to anchor Sigrid against the tree as she carefully emplaced Bjorn’s wooden steps and ascended. When she reached the branch, she straddled it and tossed the rope to Asvald.

At that point, I had to return to the twins to feed them and check on Kolfinna, who was playing with one of the wooden toys Sven had brought. When I returned to the tree, I was less than impressed with the tree house starting to take shape. In a world without a Home Depot, building any sort of structure became more of a challenge.

I couldn’t help feeling frustrated. Not because of their valiant efforts, but because in my time, we had the kind of tools needed to complete this job. Twenty dollar’s worth of nails and a good hammer, and it would be simple to protect ourselves from the wild animals.

With one eye on the kids in the cabin, I watched the shelter unfold. Asvald and Sigrid braced the longest of the logs between the branch they were on and the next branch up at a steep angle, over which we could drape furs to block the weather. The final step was to create a floor of sorts consisting of wood logs tied into place for about four feet of the branch.

When they were done, they lowered the stretcher. Bjorn pulled the remaining logs off. I piled on several arms full of furs and stepped back.

This time of year, daylight never lasted long and was never bright. The skies were gray, though no snow fell. By the time the two had finished with the shelter, the forest had started to go dark.

From a distance, wolves howled.

All of us began to move faster.

We all dressed in as many layers as possible. With the twins getting bigger, I couldn’t fasten them both to my body and move well. I wrapped Freydis against me, beneath three layers of clothing, while Asvald secured Ulf against him. Sigrid carried Kolfinna on her back, and Bjorn loaded the stretcher with our remaining food, weapons, and water.

Asvald went first. He hauled the stretcher up while the rest of us climbed the tree. I followed him much more deliberately. My natural clumsiness made me the least agile of anyone I’d met in any era.

At long last, we were all situated precariously twenty feet above the ground. If the shelter looked scary, sitting on the logs across the branch was terrifying. They barely seemed stable, and I was terrified of falling asleep and plummeting to my death. Asvald had tied down some of the furs on either side to create a rudimentary tent with one entrance from the direction of the trunk. More furs had been slung over the branch above in layers to cover the outside of the tent while the rest had been used to create a soft nest for the kids in the middle of the branch.

Assuming we survived the night without anyone falling, I didn’t think I’d suggest staying in a tree again, even if the wolves did know how to unlock a door. Surely we could brace the door and windows to prevent them from entering.

Bjorn passed around our dinner. The wind pushed against the tent walls. It was not the howl of a blizzard, thank god, but stiff enough for me to worry about being pushed off the branch.

The tent held. The rickety flooring held. It was relatively warm and lit by a single candle. The twins slept through everything. They were the lowest maintenance babies I had ever heard of, but I also believed that to be because they had two mothers and two fathers to care for them. I didn’t know any kids from my time who could say the same.

Kolfinna fell asleep against me, and Bjorn against Sigrid. Asvald remained watchful, his back pressed to the trunk of the tree.

“You both did wonderful,” I said to him and Sigrid.

Sigrid smiled tiredly, resting her head back against the wall of the tent with confidence I didn’t share. I cradled Freydis against me.

“I hope you’re right that wolves can’t climb,” I said to lighten the mood.

“Do they climb where you are from?” Sigrid asked me.

I started to laugh. She and Asvald were waiting expectantly for an answer. I swallowed my laugh and disguised it as a cough. I had thought I was doing a good job of fitting in, but apparently, they both picked up on the fact I wasn’t exactly from around here.

“No,” I replied. “We didn’t have wolves.”

“Where are you from?” Sigrid asked. “Sometimes, you use words I do not understand.”

“The Mongol Empire,” I said. “Far south of here.”

“That was not your original home,” Asvald stated.

“No,” I said. “I’m from a place far away.”

“An otherworld?” Sigrid asked, eyes widening.

“Not an otherworld,” I replied with a smile. “Just … far away.”

Sigrid appeared to be content with this answer.

I sensed, after several months stuck in a cabin together, Asvald somehow wasn’t. He studied me with more scrutiny than usual.

Sigrid dozed off. I waited until her breathing was deep before meeting Asvald’s good eye.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I often felt as if I do not know you, even if I do,” he said, puzzled.

“You know me better than anyone.”

“But I know nothing of where you are from.”

I shifted. “Why does it matter? I cannot go back. This is my home now.”

“I know,” he said and sighed. “But sometimes, I cannot move past the vision and how it showed me exactly what would happen more than once.”

I dropped my gaze to Freydis, a flicker of guilt sliding through me.

“And when I mention the vision, you grow quiet,” Asvald added. “Why?”

I formulated my words before speaking. “You have had to do a great deal to protect me. To protect my children. It doesn’t seem fair for any god to ask this of one man. I feel bad that you have had to sacrifice your life.”

“When a god speaks to you, you do as he says,” Asvald replied. “It has been no burden, Yosee. You are no burden.”

“You are too good to be in this position,” I murmured. “What if it wasn’t a god who sent you the vision but a man? Would you feel the same?”

“A man?” Asvald echoed, confused.

“Yes. What if a man or woman could … send a dream from his mind to yours?”

“He would be gifted by the gods. I would act no differently.”

“And if the man was not gifted by the gods but somehow managed to plant this vision in your head?”

“That is not possible,” he said with some of his rare confidence. “A vision must have divine origins.”

Was this how I looked when Carter told me I could go back in time to help people? Disbelieving, amused, and a little perplexed? I didn’t think there was anything that could draw that reaction from me anymore. I learned that lesson. Whether or not I believed something to be impossible, there was a damned good chance Carter had already figured out how to do it.

“Sometimes I don’t think gods can be good, if they burden a man like you,” I said.

“I am not without my own guilt, Yosee,” was the unexpected answer. “You believe my nature to be good, even after witnessing what I have done.”

“You have acted out of honor.”

“Not always.” He lowered his gaze and stared at Bjorn without seeing him. “Perhaps I act honorably now because at one time, I failed to.”

“Do you have a secret, mystic?” I asked in surprise.

“I believe everyone has a secret.”

“Whatever you did, you will never convince me you are anything other than the best man I’ve ever met.”

His twisted smile was quick. “I hope you always feel this way.”

“I will.”

“This is not over yet. We have not survived the night.”

“I have faith in you. In all of us,” I told him. Resting my head back against the beam holding up the ceiling, I closed my eyes. “I really hope I don’t fall off this branch.”

Asvald’s broken laugh was the last thing I heard as I dropped into a surprisingly good sleep.

* * *

A horrific crash sounded some time later. Jarring awake, I looked around before tensing, in case this was the moment I fell out of the tree. My eyes swept worriedly over everyone. When reassured we were all accounted for, I released my death grip on Freydis.

Howling and barks sounded from below us, and wind battered the tent walls. I froze, listening.

“Asvald?” I whispered.

“The stretcher fell,” he explained. “They probably chewed the rope, thinking there was meat.”

“I had no idea they were this smart.”

“Look.” He motioned me to the place where two furs overlapped. I shifted slowly around Kolfinna and scooted to the spot. Pushing the furs aside, I noticed the frigid air first. It stung my lungs the moment I breathed it in.

My eyes went to the cabin below. My throat tightened.

Two wolves were smashing themselves against the door. Light from the fire within lined the door and windows and filtered through the spaces between the boards making up the walls. From this vantage point, I could see how flimsy the cabin appeared from the outside.

I was not the only one to notice. The wolf pack contained at least two-dozen hunters, most of which were circling the cabin and prying noses into any of the gaps that appeared bigger than others. Three were at the bottom of our tree, two of them exploring the empty pallet they had dropped to the ground while a third had risen up on two legs and was sniffing up the tree trunk towards us.

“These have to be werewolves,” I muttered, impressed and horrified by how smart the animals were.

“It is possible,” he said. “But doubtful.”

“You know what a werewolf is?” I asked, glancing at him.

“In battle, it is said the bravest warriors can turn themselves into wolves or bears.”

Lucky guess on my part. I never would’ve dreamt the Vikings of this era had a word for werewolf or were-bear. “Maybe these are werewolves like those men we found in the cave,” I suggested. “The kind that eat other people.”

Asvald frowned. “I do not think these are werewolves,” he said, though he didn’t sound too sure. “Perhaps these wolves are brethren of Fenrir himself.”

Fenrir. One of Thora’s parables stirred in the back of my mind. She and Ivar had taken the time to try to explain the gods and otherworlds to me. Fenrir, Loki’s son, would devour Odin and bring about Ragnarok, the apocalypse.

I let the topic drop, sensing I’d disturbed Asvald into thinking about the end of the world – our world. My focus returned to the wolves. I was soon mesmerized by their organized movement and size.

When they gave up trying to smash through the door, they increased their efforts looking for a weakness in the cabin I hadn’t believed to be flimsy before viewing it from above. We had missed dozens of cracks and holes during our inspection the other day, probably because we hadn’t been in a position to evaluate where the light came through when we repaired the walls.

Would I ever sleep a night through in that cabin, knowing what I did now? That wolves were capable of finding the holes I missed?

I shuddered.

After hours of scouting and testing vulnerabilities, the pack left, just before dawn. I relaxed at that point, satisfied we’d survived the night and relieved they hadn’t been able to access the interior of the cabin. Hopefully, this meant we could sleep there until spring instead of climbing a tree. I waited a short time to see if they would return.

When they didn’t, I leaned back. “This is good,” I said. “We can go back and know we’re safe.”

“We are not safe yet.” Asvald’s gaze remained on the cabin.

“Are they back?” I leaned forward again, over Kolfinna’s slumbering body.

The pack had not returned. The largest bear I had ever seen lumbered towards the cabin, pausing on occasion to sniff the air before continuing its slow, powerful plod. The grizzly’s shoulder would have easily been at the level of my eyes. It could have snapped my head off in one bite.

“Wow,” I whispered.

Asvald and I watched in silence as the beast approached the cabin. It circled, its halting progress interrupted by sniffs and pawing at the ground. It didn’t have the sharpness of the wolves. It didn’t notice or pry at holes or cracks or seem especially interested in either the roof or dig to find the point where wood met earth.

When the bear reached the front of the cabin again, it changed direction and went to the door, sniffing. It sniffed the doorframe and doorknob. Rising up on its hind legs, it smashed one fist into the door.

I gasped. The wood of the door cracked under the powerful blow.

A second blow, and the door smashed open.

The bear dropped onto all four legs and shuffled into the cabin with its deceptively lazy movement.

“My god,” I breathed.

“We know now it was a wolf trying to break down the door the other night and not a bear,” Asvald said, equally stricken.

“Asvald, we’ve lived there for months!” I exclaimed. “It could’ve eaten us at any point!”

The bear rummaged around the cabin and exited, dragging one of the furs out. It made several more trips, searching for food.

It ate our two apples.

Watching it drag our meager belongings out into the snow didn’t bother me as much as knowing the apples were gone.

When it found no other food, the bear lingered, pushing aside the belongings it had dragged out, circling the cabin again, and finally, wandered off.

“We are blessed,” Asvald murmured. “I do not know how we have escaped thus far without that beast crossing our paths.”

“Shouldn’t it be hibernating?” I asked.

“Winter is over.”

“This is spring?” My eyebrows lifted.

Asvald’s smiled faintly.

“Will it come back?”

“I believe so,” he replied. “The bears are hungry. They will be competing with wolves for food until the snow is gone. Both will likely return here nightly. They smell us and what we cook.”

I didn’t like his answer at all. “Are we better off with a larger group? Like with Sven?”

“Two cabins are no more of a deterrent than one,” Asvald replied. “I do not know how they will survive now that the bears are awake.”

“Then we sleep in trees from now on.”

“It will keep us alive.”

I could think of a million places in this world more comfortable than this damn tree. How was I supposed to sleep up here, fearing I’d wake up falling to my death? If my neck didn’t break when I hit the ground, the bears or wolves would finish me off.