The retreating caravan was ambushed a second time on their way back. Yri did not allow any second guessing. She rode straight into the crowd of Wolves blocking their path. In all the tumult, one arrow was fired with striking precision. It lodged in Kaija’s throat. Yri spotted a dark figure crouching on a branch near the road, bow and arrow in hand. She let a bolt fly and the archer fell from her perch.

Yri turned her head to see Oskar pressing on into the mass ahead of them. Tone came to his side and passed him, shielding him from the Wolves. A horn sounded nearby and the Wolves turned on their heels, dispersing among the trees. Swinging her axe at the nearest Wolf, Yri caught him by the shoulder and then aimed a second strike at his skull, which gave a satisfying crack. Blood seeped out among his hair and he fell to the ground.

No longer under attack, the soldiers shifted and pulled back to form a ring once more. Bothilder cried out in shock. Seeing Kaija’s body as well, Yri roared in anger.

“What is going on?!”, Oskar called.

“Go on! To Fristad!”, Yri ordered.

The last two hours of the ride passed without further incident.

Yri rode in last, herding the slowest riders in front of her. She dismounted and pulled her helmet off, shoving into a stablehand’s arms. “Close the gates! Passage between the districts will only be granted on foot! Man the walls!”

The high metal gate stuttered shut behind her. Guards rushed up the steps and spread out along each outer wall, bows and arbalests at the ready and eyes peeled for enemies.

Yri grabbed a hold of Bothilder’s reins and stopped him from dismounting. “Take four. Ride out to the surrounding farms and warn them. Tell them to retreat into the city at once. No carts. No animals. Anyone who runs only when the Wolves are upon us is on their own.”

Bothilder nodded. Pointing and shouting, he gathered four well rested guards from the city and headed back out though a small wicket in the gate. The thick metal bars holding the wicket closed were slid back into place behind them.

Una came running up to Yri. “Where is Thorun?”

Yri met her eyes with cold detachment. She shook her head.

“No, she was right behind us. Where is she?”, Una insisted.

“Una”, Yri said firmly. “Thorun is dead.”

Una froze. She shook her head in disbelief, but the truth slowly sank in. She eyed the closed gate. She looked around the yard. There was no sign of Thorun. She was not here. She was gone. Una’s breathing grew short and shallow. She shook her head again and her face contorted into a grimace before the first tears made it down her cheeks.

“There you are!” Ida embraced Una in a stormy hug.

Una snapped out of her shock only to find a new worry. She grabbed a hold of Ida’s face, inspecting the cut on her cheek. “Are you okay?!”

“M’ fine”, Ida ensured her.

“Where is Oskar?”, Yri asked.

With Una’s hands still squeezing her cheeks, Ida pointed over her shoulder in answer. Yri took a measured breath and turned away from the reunited sisters. Walking further into the yard, she scanned the area to get an overview of the situation. There were many faces she was relieved to see, and many she pointedly did not feel sad about missing. The second attack had not done as much damage as the first, but it definitively shook morale more. There was a buzzing of talk and crying. Shock and sorrow was catching up with those who had escaped, and the locals fared no better. Plenty of inhabitants searched for loved ones in the chaos. After a while they either ran to someone and embraced them, or slowly realised the same thing Una just had. Souls were cracking all around the city. Spotting Oskar at the steps of the library with Tone and Dana, Yri walked over to them.

“Yri! How bad is it?”, Dana wondered.

“Bad”, Yri stated curtly.

“Is Balder…?”, Dana asked.

Yri just sighed.

Dana nodded to himself. “I see.”

“Where is Thorun?”, Oskar wondered, his eyes darting around.

“Dead”, Yri stated again.

Oskar’s eyes went wide. “Dead? Thorun is dead?”

“Yes.”

Oskar clasped a hand over his mouth. His words were barely a whisper. “Oh no.”

Ida joined them as well and placed a hand on her father's arm. “Una is unharmed. I sent her to the Harbour Inn. A drink for the nerves”, she reported.

Tone placed his hand on hers and exhaled in relief. “Thank you.”

“Where is Theo?”, Ida asked. “I have not seen him since the clearing.”

Tone’s eyebrows furrowed and his gaze was drawn to the closed gate. “He was hurt. I doubt we will see him again.”

Ida let her shoulders fall. “Fuck. I rather liked that creep.”

“What about Sylvia and her sworn?”, Dana asked.

Tone shook his head. He turned to Oskar. “What do we do now?”

Oskar stood still, looking out over the yard. Those who had managed to get away dismounted and left their horses to the stablehands. The workers washed the mounts and checked them for injuries. People checked each other in the same fashion, rubbing off blood to see how much of it was their own. Time seemed to have slowed down. People waddled around between the stables and gates in a disoriented heap.

“Everyone! Stop!”, Yri called.

Everyone close enough to hear turned to her. Some froze like they had been caught red handed. Others fidgeted impatiently.

“All who were on the road, get to the Harbour Inn! Right now!”, Yri yelled her order. “Get a fucking move on!”, she demanded sternly, raising her entire arm toward the harbour, and they finally moved.

When most of the remaining force had walked past the first row of houses, Yri took a hold of Oskar's wrist and turned him around to face her. Her expression was that of a mother scolding her child. “You do not have time to stare into space. You have to lead us now. Right now is when you make your stand. Do you understand that? If you do not make it clear who is in charge right now, you might as well hand the crown to Gramr yourself.”

“It is not like that matters any more”, Oskar sighed. The cause was lost the moment Thorun fell off her horse.

Yri slapped him across the face and his eyes went wide. His cheek flushed deep red. He caught Tone’s wrist just in time to stop Tone from retaliating. Tone stood tense but still, his sword half drawn and his expression one of fury.

“Does not matter?!”, Yri chastised. “I may not have agreed with this plan, but it matters now! It mattered to Thorun, and she died for it! Whether you like it or not, this is happening! You are going to be a king, so act like one! Go and lead your people!”

“How?!”, Oskar demanded. “How am I supposed to finish this? I was never the leader of this army. Thorun was. I do not know military strategy. I do not know—”

“So what?!”, Yri cut him off. “You have me for that. All you need is your name. Nordborg is behind you because of your name. You can have Fristad as well. We may have relied on Thorun’s word, but we were never her sworn army. Fri are their own. A woman sharing the Fri name does not leave because her leader dies. She leaves if she no longer believes in the cause. Every single person from this city who has risked a single hair for you, did so because they choose to. So make sure their sacrifice was not in vein! Grow some balls and go reassure your soldiers!”, she all but ordered, pointing in the general direction of the harbour again.

As if in trance, Oskar turned around and began walking along the main road. His mind was racing. What could be possibly say to them? He had to reassure them, make them believe in him. But how? He did not even believe in himself! How?!

Oskar stalled in front of the inn, but Yri pushed him to keep him in motion. He walked inside and everyone turned to him.

Oskar shied back a step. Yri nudged him and motioned to a table. He climbed onto it so the entire crowd could see him. Faced with all those expectant and insecure eyes, Oskar swallowed hard. He closed his eyes and searched his mind for something to say.

What could he offer these people? What could possibly justify what had occurred? Nothing had been gained. All their supplies were lost. So many had died. Thorun. Theodorus. Sylvia. They were gone, and for what? The first thing that found its way to Oskar’s lips was an echo from beyond the grave.

“Wolves do not leave anything.”

Oskar looked around. Everyone was dead quiet. Ritva stood tense, twisting a towel between her fingers. Kjell and Even were at her side, all jest and play gone from their faces. Yri frowned at Oskar.

“Sylvia Fri told me that, and she was right. She faced Wolves on multiple occasions. She was their captive. She was their worst nightmare. She even took one of them as her sworn. She knew exactly what Wolves are and what they do, how they operate.” Oskar raised his voice in agitation and anger as he spoke. “They are not going to stop at an ambush! They think they have us cornered, but they are wrong! Wolves ravage the lands. They strike fear into the hearts of good people. But in reality, they are cowards. They cannot stand an honest fight. They scheme and hide, howl in the night, but run at the first sign of danger. They have exactly as much power over us as we allow them to have. They have nothing on us, because we will not stand down. We will not abandon hope because of their little tricks. We will finish what Thorun set out to do. We will unite Sev and make damn sure that this country is safe for every man and woman within its borders. We will have our peace, and if it means ripping it out of Gramr’s cold dead hands!”

Oskar was surprised when a roar of approval met him. First when he had quieted did he notice a tear running down his cheek. It was just as well. He wiped it away and straightened his back before hopping down from the table.

“Well done, Little Prince”, Yri teased. The hint of a smirk curved her lips.

Oskar shook his head in disbelief. “I cannot understand how you remain so calm when your sister is dead.”

The smirk fell from Yri’s face. She fixed Oskar with a stern look. “The presence of tears does nothing to ease this loss for me”, she stated flatly. She walked past him, bumping into him on purpose, and left the inn.

“You are one to talk. Your creepy fella is gone as well, is he not?”, Ritva spat.

“Sorry”, Oskar whispered.

“Shame on you”, Ritva scoffed.

Kjell and Even both gave him withering glares over Ritva’s shoulder.

Oskar felt dizzy all of a sudden. He hurried outside and braced himself against the nearest wall. He gasped for breath. His soul ached in his chest. He felt like it was being squeezed too hard.

“Oskar?”, Tone asked softly.

Oskar turned away and puked.