Brenna walked toward the village slowly, reflecting on the day’s events.

After a beautiful ceremony, attended by the tiny family of four, Calder had set the torch to the raft with Halvar’s body and set his brother adrift to return to whatever gods their people prayed to. She’d left their sons with Calder in the cave where they’d once sought refuge, and made her way to the village.

Nearing the village, Brenna picked up the scent of smoke from the fires, of cooking, of enjoyment. She heard the voices of merriment and happiness. She also picked up the sounds of weapons clashing, metal clanging, the grunting of effort during battle.

What was this?

Why did she hear the noise of battle coupled with the laughter of delight?

She stepped into the clearing and found herself faced with a spectacle she could not have imagined.

Eerika and Astrid, dressed in armor, bearing shields and axes, swords as well, were sparring.

Surrounding the two were an assortment of women, also attired the same way, also sporting weapons of war.

Brenna froze. She studied the visage before her.

What was missing?

Men.

There were no men.

Then she noticed the sounds had stopped, and all the women had turned to look at her.

“Brenna?” Astrid strode toward her followed by Eerika.

“Is it really you?” Eerika frowned. “Can it be?”

“It is I.” Brenna didn’t step forward, still caught off guard by the spectacle. “What are you doing?”

“Training,” Eerika proclaimed, striking her shield with her sword proudly.

“Training for what?” Brenna frowned. “Where are the men?” Surely the village had some men? It had been several years. Had they not found new husbands? Had other family members not joined the women? “Won’t they protect you?”

“Men?” a woman behind Astrid scoffed. “My mother has made men obsolete and unnecessary to our world.”

Brenna looked hard at the woman. “Helga?”

“Indeed. Proud daughter of Freyja.” The woman then mimicked Eerika’s motion and struck her shield with her axe.

Freyja! The very woman who could help Brenna. “Where is your mother now?”

“She is not here.” Helga’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“I seek her assistance.”

Astrid and Eerika stepped forward, pulling Brenna away and out of earshot of the group. Helga followed, staying slightly away, but still close enough to hear.

“What happened to the man you forsook us for?” Eerika hissed.

“Where is he? Did he perish?” Astrid’s expression was hopeful.

Brenna quickly realized there would be no help and no quarter given by these women. There would be no help for Calder. She had to extricate herself as swiftly as she could, without giving away that Calder was well and alive.

“I traveled here alone, did I not?” She raised a brow and locked gazes with Astrid, who seemed to be the leader, though Eerika could be a close second.

“What is your business with my mother,” Helga insisted.

“I was hoping for her expertise. Perhaps some training in her skills.”

Eerika folded her arms over her chest. “Why is it that your father and husband say they have not seen you? Astrid saw your father. He declared you dead. As did your husband.”

Brenna swallowed uncomfortably. “I am dead to them. How did Freyja make them obsolete? What about having children?”

Astrid and Eerika belted out bawdy laughter, looked at each other as though enjoying an inside joke.

“We find ones that can serve that purpose,” Astrid informed her.

“And the only babies we give birth to are girls.” Helga’s tone carried pride.

“If you’re traveling alone, and have no home, join us.” Astrid picked up a sword and shield from a pile of weapons and held them out to Brenna.

Brenna thought of her two sons. She had questions, but more than anything, she was anxious to be gone from this place.

The bitterness the women harbored was evident and understandable, but Brenna did not share in the sentiment. She had a good man, two wonderful sons, and a third child on the way. She had no desire to be a part of a group that so clearly had no use for men.

“I cannot. I must be on my way. I had hoped that I would see Freyja, but since she is not here…”

“My mother does not stay in any one village. She visits several. She is worshipped among our people, viewed as much more than a high witch. She’s godly born and divine fated.”

“Thank you, sisters.” With this final word, Brenna made her way from the village that so much history had been made.

She had her own history to make.