Brenna returned from her talk with Eerika to find an unconscious and pale Calder.

Her first thought was that they would need food. He would especially, because he’d lost blood, and not just a little.

Anguish tore at her. She’d have to leave him. She couldn’t hunt and kill something with what they had. An axe and a knife wouldn’t serve. Given enough time, perhaps she could make a trap, but…

No, time was not on their side. She had to make sure he could eat, and then they would have to vacate the area. They couldn’t stay here.

Though Brenna trusted Eerika to keep her secret, she couldn’t risk having another person happen on them.

She exhaled her frustration. There was really only one option: go to the village and take some food.

She appraised Calder, wondering if what she was doing was right.

No, she didn’t second-guess her desire to be with him. What she questioned was how she was going about this. Would he be incapacitated? Would she be able to fend and hunt for them?

She pushed the nagging doubts aside. One thing at a time. First, food. And with that thought in mind, she placed the axe next to him, secured her knife at her hip, and left the safety of the cave for the unknown status of the village.

* * *

The battle between the village women and their captors had ended, and the women had been triumphant.

From the cover of the brush, Brenna noticed how the women, victorious and celebrating, had painted their faces with dye, creating runic symbols on their bodies and limbs.

She heard the word Valkyrie mentioned repeatedly, and caught sight of Freyja, striding from woman to woman, looking much like a general on the battlefield.

The women had freed the children from the thorn corral and were dragging the bodies of the dead men to the same thorny enclosure, in the interim piling wood on the bodies.

Brenna shook herself from her reverie. There was no time to study the happenings here. She had a purpose. She noted one of the storage huts, the one closest to the forest. She could slip in there. It was close to dusk, she might be able to do so unnoticed, and grab enough food for—well, she’d grab as much as she could because who knew how long they’d be unable to hunt and cook.

With stealth and surefootedness she’d have never thought herself of, Brenna managed to find a bag and fill it at the hut. Just as she was leaving, she spied anther bag. She took the first one and secured it in a branch on a tree then ran back to the hut to get the second bag.

The sun had fallen, the woods were dark, and the sky ominous, but the village was well-lit for a pyre had been set, using the wood and the bodies of the dead captors.

The stench was overwhelming, and brought to mind another time when her father’s family had done the same to an uncle that had passed. That smell. Her stomach roiled.

Leaving the first bag in the tree, well hidden by branches she’d arranged carefully, Brenna took the second bag and made her way toward the cave, stumbling about in the dark, wishing she had better night vision.

She scoffed at that, and of course, it made her think of Calder and how well he could see in the dark.

“Where have you been?” a voice said in the darkness of the forest.

She gasped. Her heart leapt into her throat. And then she recognized the voice.

“Calder. What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“I had to get us food. How are you?” She wished she had enough light to see his face, to ascertain he was doing better.

“I am conscious. Was I out long? Days?”

“No, no. Not days. Just a few hours.”

“You went back to the village?” He took the bag from her shoulder.

She heaved a sigh of relief at not having the weight on her back.

“I did.”

“My—my brother? My men? My clansmen?”

She bit her lip. She didn’t want to say.

“I can smell them,” he told her. “I’m just wondering if you saw—” His voice broke. “Mostly my brother, Gunnar, Torsten?”

She swallowed hard. “I did not see any of them. No one I recognized, but…” She swallowed again. “I didn’t see anyone alive.”

He cursed softly in the darkness, then took her hand. “Follow me. I’ll lead us back to the cave.”

* * *

Next to Calder, her head against his chest, Brenna chewed on dried meat. “I’ll fill the water bag from the creek in the morning.”

“I need to see for myself.”

She knew what he meant. But she didn’t want him going there. What if Freyja had put a ward of protection over the village? What if he lost his life just to see if anyone survived?

“You shouldn’t.”

His chest rose abruptly, then fell as he exhaled mightily. “I must. If there is anything…”

“Calder, Freyja is a powerful sorceress. She overpowered your entire group. All those men. You think she will have a problem with you?”

“I must see.” His voice reminded her of the hardness of the rock wall behind her, of the inflexibility of his axe.

* * *

Morning brought an anger to Brenna when she realized the spot next to her was empty. She found her fury burning deeply within. How could he leave? How could he go to check on them and risk his life to do so? Did he not understand there was imminent danger for him at the village?

These were the very thoughts that consumed her when the very cause of her angst walked into the cave’s entrance and made his way back to her. He carried two water bags, and his face was free of blood, as was his clothing, though it was dripping wet.

“You should not have done that.” She fumed.

He leaned in, kissed her on the lips. A part of her softened, his lips were cool and tender against hers. “I had to go check on my brother, my men.”

There was a sadness in his eyes that told her not to ask any questions.

He handed her the bag with water.

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “We cannot stay in the area.”