After the night spent in the feasting hall in Jarl Ragnar's strong arms, I barely left his side. It wasn't something he appeared eager to hide, either, and he seemed if anything slightly confused by my timidity in 'going public.' He didn't know that where I came from, a single night spent together was virtually meaningless, and that it certainly didn't indicate some kind of relationship had begun. Even after the Jarl seemed to take me on as, in some important way, his, I anticipated the moment he would go cold, find a new girl, develop a sudden need to engage in activities that didn't involve me.

It didn't happen. I didn't have to beg and plead to be allowed to join Ragnar and his men on their trip north, because he told me he wanted me next to him.

"Why do you have that look in your eyes?" He asked, as we stood in the bow of a Viking ship as it cut through the dark sea on its way north. "You've had it for a day now, ever since last morning when we woke together in the feasting hall."

"What look?" I asked, smiling because it seemed impossible not to smile around Ragnar, especially as he cuddled me against his huge, fur-cloaked body to protect me from the cold.

"Like you're surprised," he replied, leaning in close to kiss my cheeks. "You have it now, girl, still. What surprises you so much?"

I looked east towards the land as it raced past us. It was eerie – the trees and grasses, the beach formations so familiar and yet, without the markers of civilization – buildings, boats, cars, towns – so alien. I did not quite want to tell Ragnar why I had such a surprised look on my face, because it was – well, it was embarrassing. I wasn't raised to feel guilt or shame over my sexual encounters – and I didn't. But I also wasn't ever truly told about the emotional consequences of living in a place and time where some men felt no compunction about sleeping with you and never calling again. It had happened twice since I started at Grand Northeastern, and both times I told myself to chalk it up to inexperience, that it was just something that happened to a lot of young women. Both times I ignored my own sadness, and the poignant little deflation in my heart when the hoped-for text message asking to see me again never came. I felt ashamed, like a stronger person wouldn't have let it get to them. But I did feel it, and being with Ragnar was only underlining how sweet it was to be with someone who seemed just as interested in being with me, even if I did have my clothes on.

"I don't know," I lied, pushing my uncomfortable thoughts away. "Maybe I'm just happy?"

I was happy. So happy I felt guilty every time I thought of home, and of my family – which was often. What right did I have to be enjoying myself with Jarl Ragnar while the people who cared about me suffered? I'm trying to get back to them, I told myself. Paige will know what to do. She'll know how to get back to the tree.

We sailed through the day and into the cold, clear night when the stars shone over our heads as bright and multitudinous as I'd ever seen them. The men took turns sailing the ship in groups of four and the rest of us, Jarl Ragnar and I included, huddled under furs on the open deck, trying to sleep. It wasn't even too cold, as long as you didn't roll away from your companions in your sleep, as a few of the men did, before waking to find the sea mist frozen white into their eyebrows and beards.

Almost a full day after our leaving, after sailing with what Ragnar described as a 'godswind' at our backs, we arrived in a bay much like the one we'd left behind. On the beach, two guards dressed in the furs and leathers of the Vikings stood waiting for us. A shiver of hope ran through my belly – was this place Paige's home? Was I about to see my friend again?

Our party brought casks of ale and slabs of cured pork as gifts, all of which took some time to unload. Halfway through the task, I looked up to the beach and saw a new man standing with his guards, waiting for us. I couldn't quite make out his face yet but he had to be Jarl Eirik. Imposingly built – like Ragnar – and dressed in finer clothing than the two young warriors, he made his way down to the water's edge to help carry the goods we had for him.

I'd noticed that same instinct – the willingness to get involved in the day-to-day running of camp and the direct communication with those lower down on the ladder of the hierarchy – in Ragnar. You'd never catch a modern CEO having dinner with his security guards the way Ragnar ate with his men, but apart from a marked dislike for Inga in the cooking pits, he seemed entirely at ease with his people, regardless of their rank. Was it simply Viking custom that their leaders felt a duty to maintain a certain level of closeness to the lives and work of those below them? If it was, I admired it greatly.

Jarl Ragnar's party – including myself – stood back a few feet when it came time for the Jarls to greet each other. They regarded each other with a kind of respectful solemnity for a few moments, and then they broke into smiles and hugged each other tightly.

"Look at us," Jarl Eirik commented, "across the sea like our fathers, when it seems only yesterday we spent the days of our boyhood together, as green as saplings. I miss those days, old friend. I miss you."

Ragnar hugged him again, and clapped him on the back. "Aye, Eirik. It turns out our mothers were right – the days pass as swift as arrows, and responsibilities crowd around us. I hear you have a son, now? I'll be glad to meet the boy, and tell him stories of who his father was before he was a great Jarl."

"You honor me, friend. Yes, I have a son, and –"

Eirik broke off at that point, because as he was speaking he'd been looking around at Ragnar's people – and his eyes had just alighted on me. Ragnar noticed it at once and turned to look at me, and then back at his friend.

"Have you become traditional in your old age?" He asked, laughing. "Do you think it unseemly to bring a woman not my wife to meet another –"

"No," Eirik shook his head, starting towards me across the sand with a look of great interest on his face. "No, it's not that. It's – Ragnar, who is this woman?"

People were interested now, as they – and I – took note of Jarl Eirik's strange reaction to me. I felt the attention focusing on me as he approached, and I hoped I had not angered him in some way.

"She is my companion, Eirik," Ragnar replied, pulling me to his side. There was a whiff of tension in the air then, one of two strong, young bucks meeting in a forest. At the moment all was curiosity, but everyone involved – including the bucks themselves – felt the possibility of a clash. Ragnar's body, presenting as at-ease, felt stiff next to me. He was ready to move, if necessary – ready to fight. "Is there something about her that offends you? She, too, seeks an old friend –"

But Eirik wasn't listening, he was staring. Right at me.

"Where are you from?" He asked, in a voice that did not sound hostile. "I'm sorry, girl, but you remind me very much of someone –"

"Of your wife?" I asked, picking up on who it was Eirik was referring to and once again feeling a surging hope in my heart. If I reminded him of his wife, his wife was almost certainly Paige. No one else in this place, not even the highest ranking Vikings – had the blemish-free bodies or straight teeth of a modern person. No one except Paige Renner.

"Yes," he replied, looking confused. "Yes, of my wife."

He walked around me, examining me with his eyes but not touching me. "I ask again, girl, where are you –"

"Southeast. Across the sea. Another land." Ragnar spoke. "She does not name the land, or the people, but anyone can see she speaks the truth."

Eirik chuckled at that comment, diffusing what was left of the undercurrent of tension swirling around us. "Ah yes. These cagey foreign women – my wife too is inexplicably reluctant to speak in any precise way of her homeland. Paige is –"

Jarl Eirik stopped short at that point because, upon hearing the name of my friend spoken aloud and receiving confirmation that she was in fact at that very camp, I promptly burst into tears. Both Jarls turned to me, their eyebrows raised in surprise, as I gulped and hand-waved and did everything I could to stop bawling.

"What is it?" Ragnar asked, bending close so only I could hear his words. "What's wrong, Emma? What upsets you?"

"Nothing!" I sniveled, laughing through my tears before getting them under control. "I'm not upset – I'm happy. Jarl Eirik, Paige is my friend. I have missed her very much, and I need to speak to her. Until this moment I didn't know for certain she was here."

"Strange," Eirik said. "Paige insisted I would never meet anyone from her homeland. She was certain of it. It's not yet four moons since her return to me and here you are. She is in the camp with our son, you will see her at the feast of welcome tonight."

But the feast of welcome wasn't going to cut it. I needed to see Paige alone. Without anyone else around – including our respective Vikings.

"With respect, Jarl Eirik," I started, wary of how rude I had come across to Ragnar in the recent past, "I would like to meet with Paige before the feast of –"

"Emma," Ragnar cut me off, and there was a note of disapproval in his voice. Even with my attempt to show respect it seemed I had overstepped my bounds again. "You'll meet with your friend when her husband sees fit to allow it. We are Jarl Eirik's guests and –"

"No," I replied, as the familiar, instinctive fight response to injustice welled up inside me. "I'll meet with her when she wants to meet with me. Why do you – why does anyone – decide when I should –"

One of Jarl Ragnar's guards stepped towards us at that moment, clearly intending to either smack me or drag me away for my impertinence. And in almost perfect symmetry, both Jarls blocked his way at the same time.

"Back, idiot!" Ragnar barked.

Jarl Eirik simply threw his head back and guffawed. "Oh she's definitely one of Paige's people," he chuckled, as Ragnar still looked wary about how his friend would react to me. "As it is, girl, I don't wish to be murdered by foreign women in my sleep – you shall see your friend before the feast."

We were led, then, after it was established that I wasn't going to be left behind or whipped by one of the Viking warriors, into the unfamiliar encampment. I saw right away, even from the outside, that it was much more established than Jarl Ragnar's. Surrounded on two and probably three sides by extensive ramparts and tall, sturdy palisades, even the dwellings looked more solid. There were no animal skin roundhouses in this camp, no. Here, they were built of wood – even the smaller ones.

There were a lot more people, too, many more women and children. Even as the cold kept them inside by their fires I heard the sounds of babies fussing, children playing, adults deep in conversation.

"You've done well," Ragnar commented as he and Eirik walked on ahead of everyone, their arms slung affectionately around each other's shoulders. "A winter storm nearly blew my camp away not two nights ago – many of our houses are still rough, deerskin on wooden frames."

I liked seeing the two Jarls together. You could feel the sense of respect, even love, between the two men. They laughed as they spoke, and listened to each other intently. It gave me a feeling of unexpected satisfaction to see them together.

As I was hanging back behind the two Jarls, I caught sight of a stout woman rushing officiously towards them. Neither had seen her yet and my belly tensed, awaiting whatever punishment would be hers for approaching in such an aggressive hurry.

A few of Jarl Ragnar's men spotted her at the last minute, and I watched as their hands moved to their left hips, seeking the hilts of their swords. But no one in Jarl Eirik's party reacted – including Eirik himself.

"What is it, Hildy?" He asked the woman when she stood in front of him, craning her neck up to look him in the eye.

"It's your wife, Jarl," she replied. "She wishes to see you in the roundhouse before the feast, and –"

"Oh I bet she does," Eirik laughed. "Reassure her I'll be to see her soon, Hildy. Does she need more furs? Bring them to her if she does."

Paige. They were speaking of Paige. A low thrum of anticipation set itself up in my stomach, the way it does when some longed-for thing is on the very cusp of happening. I was surprised to find that I was nervous, too. Paige was at home in this place, this world, in a way that I definitely wasn't. She'd been visiting since childhood. Would she think less of me when she saw how awkward I was with the Vikings – whom she probably thought of now as her people?

When Jarl Eirik introduced me to the woman – Hildy – and instructed her to take me to see Paige, I glanced back at Ragnar, to see what he thought of it. He gave me a nod and a smile, and I turned, reassured, to follow Hildy.

The snow was not so deep at this camp, as it had been trodden by many more pairs of feet into the ground, and the mid-day sun peeked through the clouds. Presently we arrived at a roundhouse, although it was larger and built more finely than the others, and set on the high point of the camp.

"Lady!" Hildy called into the dwelling, having ignored me entirely. "Paige! Do you sleep? A girl is here to see you."

The Vikings liked that word 'girl' – almost all of them used it in reference to me. It did not slip past my notice that Paige was 'lady.' Perhaps I needed to marry one of them to earn the title?

And then, suddenly and plainly, my friend's voice came back in return.

"A girl? What girl? Did you tell my husband that I need to see him before the –"

"I did, lady. He says he'll be here. As for this girl, you'd best not ask me about her, for I've never seen her before in my life. Jarl Eirik said to bring her to see you, she's arrived with Jarl Ragnar's party."

"Baby Eirik sleeps," came Paige's voice, and I smiled at the mild irritation in her tone. I remembered that tone. Mostly from shared chores in our flat, when she would become impatient with my inability to cook pasta to the right point of tenderness, or my tendency to leave the bathroom counter piled high with various creams and cosmetics. How odd it seemed to be standing where I was standing and thinking of our days at Grand Northeastern – it seemed a million miles away. I suppose, given that geography was not all that separated the one from the other, that in a way it was. "Can this wait, Hildy? You say the Jarl instructed you to bring her to me?"

Paige sounded like Paige. Unmistakably, it was her. But there was a new strength in her voice, a new assurance. What I was hearing was the voice of a woman, no longer that of an uncertain college girl.

In the end, I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Paige!" I called, stepping around Hildy – who immediately strong-armed me back behind her with an audible scoff. "Paige it's me!"

I suspect Hildy might have had something more to say to me had there not been an immediate commotion from inside the roundhouse, and the squawk of a rudely awakened baby. Almost at once the leather flap was pulled back and there she was, Paige, as clearly herself as ever even as she was dressed in the clothing of the Vikings. As soon as she laid eyes on me she turned them away again, before laughing and speaking as if to herself.

"No," she said. "It can't be. It can't –"

"It is," I told her. "It is, Paige. I have so much to talk to you about – I have so much to –"

At once, my friend threw her arms around me and I did the same and we stood there, rocking each other back and forth, laughing and crying at the same time.

She drew back minutes later, squeezing my shoulders as if she still couldn't quite believe I was actually standing there in front of her. "How did you – oh my God, Emma – how did you get here? How did you – you traveled with Jarl Ragnar?! How did you meet – when did you –?"

"Perhaps it's best you have this conversation beside the fire?" Hildy suggested, in a much more respectful voice than she had used when she addressed me. "It's too cold to stand out here in the –"

"Yes," Paige responded. "Yes, of – of course! I'm sorry! I'm too shocked to think straight. Emma, come in, come in. Oh I hope this isn't a dream. If I wake up and you're not here, I'm going to be so sad."

Inside the roundhouse it was spacious and warm, with a fire-pit as big as the ones in the feasting hall in the very center. Furs covered almost every surface, and already I could see that they were of better quality than any I had seen so far, barring the ones Jarl Ragnar wore. And on one of those furs, bundled in soft, pliable leather, was baby Eirik. No longer a newborn, I could now clearly see the features of his father in his face. Paige scooped him up as he fussed, and pulled her finely-made woolen tunic to the side to breastfeed him. And then she looked at me, and I looked back at her.

"How is this possible?" She asked. "Emma, how did you get here? I mean, I know how you got here, but – why? I hope nothing terrible has happened – oh no! Has something terrible –"

I shook my head. "No, nothing terrible has happened. I mean, not if you mean 'terrible' like nuclear war or something like that. I can't say that it's been that great for me, though. I actually worried I might be angry at you if I saw you again. As it is now, though, I don't. All I feel is relief, and happiness to see you so –"

"Angry?" Paige asked, confused – and funnily enough that was the first hint of anything less than joy I had felt since seeing her again. "At me? Why would you –"

"After everything you went through," I replied, and what I said came out a lot more bluntly than I meant it to. "Did you really think it would be easy for me when you disappeared again? Did you think the media would just magically leave me alone?"

My friend looked at me for a few seconds, and I watched her eyes darken with sadness. "No," she said quietly. "I didn't think that. I admit I didn't think very much about it until it was too late, too. Until I was here and you were back there and there was nothing I could do. I was too self-absorbed. Has it been awful, Emma? I'm so sorry. I'm so –" her voice became a whisper and then disappeared altogether as a tear slipped down one of her cheeks.

I didn't want that. I didn't need or want Paige's guilt. "No," I said, reaching out and taking one of her hands in mine. "No, Paige. Please don't cry. Do you think I came here to make you cry?"

But she wouldn't look at me. Instead she kept her eyes on her baby – fat and healthy in her arms, much bigger than I remembered him – and on the fire.

"I did wonder," she said a few seconds later. When I got back here and found Eirik again, when I had time to think. I wondered if anyone would think you knew more about me disappearing again than you would say."

"They didn't just wonder!" I blurted out, apologetic even as I felt the strong urge to share just how difficult it had been for me since she'd left. "They thought I had something to do with it! The whole bloody internet thinks I did it – that I killed you or sold you to aliens or – I don't know, used your baby in a satanic ritual or something! I had to talk to the FBI, Paige. The FBI!"

She looked up when I said that, her expression one of horror. "You – what, Em? The FBI? Why did you –"

"Because they think someone took you! Just like they did the first time! And this time they think someone took your baby, too, and your dad. Who did you think they were going to focus on if not your best friend and the last person to see you alive?! I've had death threats, you know! My parents had to hire a security guard to follow me around! Someone spit on me!"

I stopped yelling then, because it was too upsetting and my voice was breaking. I lowered my face into my hands, crying for the things people had said to me – the things they'd done to me.

"And I couldn't tell anyone!" I wept. "Only you! And you were gone, Paige! You left me to deal with all of this all by my –"

At that very moment, Jarl Eirik entered the roundhouse. He took one look at our faces, seeing that neither of us was smiling or happy, and rushed to Paige's side.

"What is this woman saying to you, my love?" He asked her, pulling her into his protective embrace. "Shall I have her sent –"

"No!" Paige sobbed, handing her sleeping child to his father. "No, Eirik! I – no, please don't send her away. She's upset because of me – because of something I did. If you want to do anything please tell Hildy to have the westerly roundhouse prepared for my friend. I want her fed the best food, Eirik – the best! I don't want your men or Hildy treating her like dirt because she's –"

"The westerly roundhouse? Paige, the westerly roundhouse is where Jarl Ragnar will stay. Your friend can stay in one of the –"

"No! Eirik, listen to me!" Paige insisted, and loudly enough to cause the baby to stir. "It must be the one I said, it –"

I coughed a little. "I, uh – well, there's no need for you two to fight about this, because if Jarl Ragnar is staying in the – what did you call it? The westerly roundhouse? Then that's probably where I'll be staying."

"What?" Paige asked, as I smiled sheepishly through my tear-blurred eyes. "You're – Emma, you're sleeping with Jarl Ragnar? What the hell? I thought you – I mean, how did you even –"

"I didn't mean to be so harsh with you," I said quickly. "What I just said, I mean. It's just – it's been building up for awhile, you know? I had no one to talk to, no one I could tell the truth, and you were gone and it –"

Paige held her arms out, then, and I fell into them. We held each other tightly as her husband backed off and looked on, baffled.

"I know," my friend said softly. "Of all the people who knows what it feels like to have a secret that can't be shared, I know. And you know I know."

"And I'm sorry for not believing you," I replied, my eyes welling up with fresh tears as I remembered how I'd treated Paige when she first told me she'd been time-traveling since she was a child. I hadn't believed a word of it, and to think of it then, from the perspective of my own experience, made my heart ache with regret. "I never even apologized properly for that!"

Paige pulled away a little, so we could look each other in the eye. "Listen," she said, squeezing my hands in her own. "You're here. You're here now. Eirik, I need the afternoon. Have Gudry or Anja take baby Eirik and leave me alone with my friend. You can see we have much to talk about."

Jarl Eirik, who had been standing back watching us with a look in his eye that I had interpreted as the standard male 'oh, look, the women are crying and being emotional again' reaction, impressed me by taking Paige's words with real seriousness.

"Yes," he replied, bending from his great height to kiss his wife's cheek. "I'll have Hildy seat her with us tonight, at the high table. Any friend of yours, Paige, is a friend of myself and my – our – people. Call for Hildy if you need anything, alright my love?"

Paige nodded and then Eirik turned to me.

"And you," he said to me. "Know that you are welcome here. I see that my wife holds you in esteem. That means I hold you in esteem. Anything you need, anything that can be done to sooth your sadness, I will see to it that it's done."

"Thank you," I responded quietly, because I wasn't sure what else to say and I was too awed by being treated with such respect by Jarl Eirik.

After he was gone I just sat there for a little while, taking it all in. It hadn't even been six months since I saw Paige, and I could see that she was still Paige, still the girl who basically raised herself. But she was different now, too – very different, and in such a short time. It was a lot to take in.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked when she saw my expression.

"It's just so strange seeing you," I replied. "Here, I mean. You still look and sound like yourself, you still have the same mannerisms, all of the things that make you, you. But you're so – I don't know the right word – you seem so grown up now. And not just because you have a husband and a baby. Wait – is he your husband now?"

Paige nodded. "Yes. We got married soon after I returned."

"And the way he talks to you!" I continued. "The way he looks at you! I swear if I wasn't so mind-blown by this entire situation I would be dying of jealousy right now."

I meant the things I said to Paige. It's not like I'd made a habit of dating men who didn't respect me, but there was something profoundly adult about the vibe between Paige and her husband, a vibe I knew I hadn't experienced before with a man. The men I knew back at Grand Northeastern were hardly that much younger than Eirik – but they seemed so different that they might almost have been a different species.

Maybe it wasn't just the men who we different? Maybe the women were, too? Paige had a child now, and a husband. And she lived in a place where I suspected that the knife-edge between survival and any number of catastrophes – starvation, conquest by a hostile force, disease – was sharper, and much closer than it was to anyone living in the western world in 2017.

My friend and I talked through the afternoon, filling each other in on our respective situations.

"So you're sleeping with him?" She asked bluntly at one point when I tried to finesse my way through describing the night in the longhouse with Jarl Ragnar.

I laughed. "Um. Yes. It doesn't mean I'm not going home – I have to go home, you understand that better than anyone. But he's not a brute, you know. He's actually –"

"Emma," Paige cut in, "you don't have to defend yourself to me! I know these people now – I know how they are. Plus, you know – he's hot as hell."

"Who?" I asked, even though I knew damn well who she was talking about.

"Ragnar, who else?"

"Don't call him that to his face," I grinned. "He gets tetchy."

"Jarl Ragnar, I mean," Paige corrected herself. "Yeah, it's not too difficult to see why you may have ended up in his bed."

It wasn't all gossip that afternoon, though. We sprinkled those lighter moments, the ones that almost let both of us believe that if we closed our eyes we could be back in the kitchen of our flat, gossiping about hot guys before heading to class, throughout the conversation. But make no mistake, the conversation was serious.

"No one knows?" Paige asked, when I emphasized, for what must have been the tenth time, that I not only needed to get home – I needed to get home soon. "You didn't tell anyone about this place? You didn't tell anyone you were coming here?"

"Who would I tell?" I asked, shrugging. "I thought about telling my lawyer – I mean, not seriously – but yeah, no one would have believed me. And I know that because I didn't even believe my best friend!"

Paige gave my hand a squeeze to let me know she understood how sorry I was about that as we pondered what to do.

"Well you're going to be here for a few weeks," she said. "Maybe a little less? But maybe I could come south with you when you go? Eirik might allow it if –"

"A few weeks?!" I burst in. "What? I thought this was just a meeting! I thought we would be going south again by tomorrow! Why would it be weeks?"

"You don't know Vikings," Paige replied, unsmiling because she knew I was right when I told her my parents and sister and the rest of my family and friends would be completely out of their minds with panic and worry. "There's no such thing as a brief social visit with these people. The raids have gone easily and well, we're stuffed to the rafters with food and goods, and Eirik intends for Ragnar and his people to stay here for Yule."

"Yule? What, like Christmas? That's not a 'few weeks' – it's just over a week until Christmas, right?"

Baby Eirik, sitting on his mother's lap, reached out for a lock of my hair that hung close to his little hand. Paige handed him to me and gave me a knowing smile. "They don't do things by a calendar here, Em. This is my first Yule too, the first year since setting up this camp that Eirik has seen fit to hold it in full. So I can't even tell you what it really means. What I can say is that from the way Eirik talks about it, it isn't just one day. It starts with one day – the darkest day, he says, but then there's days of 'quiet' – don't even ask me what that means because I don't know – and then, after the quiet, there are days of feasting and drinking. He says there are many rituals as well."

"The darkest day?" I asked. "So, like, the solstice? The 21st? That has to be less than a week away. Then a couple of days of quiet and then Christmas dinner? Is that how it'll go? I still don't see how that's going to take weeks."

Paige and I watched as her son gummed one of my fingers. "I don't know," she said, obviously troubled. "I wish I knew, because I understand how important it is to get you home as soon as possible, but you have to know, Emma, that trying to go back on your own is a bad idea. It's freezing outside, you would die the first night. And if you didn't die the first night, you'd run into outlaws or the King's men – and you really don't want to do either of those things. Please don't think you'll be able to –"

"Oh I'm not an idiot," I told her. "Paige, seriously? You think I'd try to get south again, on foot, in this weather? No. If it's two weeks, it's two weeks. If it's three, it's three. I'll wait, because the only thing I care about is getting home in one piece, so my parents can –" I broke off as my lower lip wobbled and then finished in a whisper. "I just mean I won't try to go anywhere by myself. I won't do anything without telling you about it first, OK? All I care about is getting home."

"I know," she said, coming to me and wrapping her arms around me once again. "I know, Em. And we'll get you home. It just – it takes a certain kind of patience to get anything done here, that's all."