“Very good Gunnar.” Brack nodded thoughtfully. “You may very well be in the lead right now.”

“What!” Robin shouted. “Mine is by far the best. His was…” Robin struggled to find a proper criticism. “The group or caravan or whatever felt underdeveloped. I felt like there was only the main guy and, like four other people.”

“Bah! It was fine. A good story with a good ending. I say well done Gunnar.” Bryan said graciously.

“Thank you, Bryan.” Gunnar glared at robin askance. “It, like Robin’s tale, is one that was passed down to me by my elders. It is highly significant to my people. An origin story of sorts.”

“So, it is true?” Miru asked.

“To my knowledge, yes. It would certainly explain the habitability of the Skogi Heartland compared to the rest of the country.”

Cob interrupted gently. “Anyway, I think that it is Trout’s turn now.”

“Me?” Trout looked up from the bare bone that he was chewing on. “No. I think I’ll pass.”

“Come on! Be a good sport, will you?” Bryan said imploringly.

“You wouldn’t want to hear the stories I’ve got.”

“You must realise that makes us want to hear them all the more?” Bryan said.

“The man doesn’t want to speak,” Cob said. “I’ll do mine and then we’ll rest up for the night.”

“That’s fine with me,” Gunnar added, yawning.

“As long as you’re ready to lose to me, that is.” Robin grinned.

Brack coughed loudly and gestured for Cob to begin.

**********

Charlotte laughed joyously as Rainulf twirled her around in the air by her arms. Her braided hair shone golden in the light of the setting sun.

Rainulf set her down gently after a while and gave her an affectionate pat on the head. “Now young lady, I believe that mother wants us back by now for supper.”

“Daddy no! Can’t we play for just a little longer?”

“Oh aye, I’ll show you a fun game girly.” Rainulf hauled Charlotte up and hung her over his back by her feet.

She squealed, “Stop it! I’ll fall!”

Rainulf took a big step towards the house. “Oh no. I think I may be tripping.” He swayed dramatically while swinging Charlotte from side to side. Charlotte giggled uncontrollably as Rainulf walked haphazardly down the hill towards their small log cottage.

Margery had a tasty stew going by the time that they arrived. The smell drew Rainulf and Charlotte as easy as gold drew a thief, or thieves. “Well, look who finally decided to come home.” She smiled and let Charlotte have a small taste. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Any for me?” Rainulf said hopefully.

“Set the table, you great big lout.” Margery gave Rainulf a peck on the check and shoed him and Charlotte out of the kitchen.

“It’s the hard life for me Charlotte. Why don’t you help out with the table?”

“No,” Charlotte stated and ran gleefully away.

“You’ll pay for this missy!” Rainulf shouted.

The family had a pleasant dinner and then went to bed. Once Charlotte was asleep Rainulf and Margery sat awake and talked peacefully before turning in.

“Wait, I have to piss. Be right back.”

“You say that every night darling.” Margery gave a tired smile and tucked herself in.

“So do you. Sleep tight.” Rainulf bent over and kissed Margery on her head one last time.

He walked out through the back door to the outhouse and relieved himself. As he was walking back through the darkness he heard something terrible. A desperate scream.

“Margery!” he shouted. When there was no response he started to run for the house. Before he could reach the door a pair of gloved hands wrapped around his neck from behind. He was pulled back harshly and thrown to the ground. A hard boot slammed into his face. He lost consciousness long before the assault ended.

The next morning, he awoke to a splitting headache. He writhed on the cold ground and groaned for many minutes before stumbling to his feet. He walked into the house and called desperately for his family. “Margery! Charlotte!” He saw furniture flipped over and broken, books ripped up and thrown into corners, his bed was covered in barely dry blood.

He stared at the wall in his bedroom. Drawn in dripping blood was a smiling face. A simple caricature, two dots and a curved smile. It looked to have been drawn by an unsteady hand.

Rage and grief washed over him, bringing him to his knees. Eventually, he made a decision. He was going to get them back, to save them. Whatever the cost.

Rainulf packed some provisions and left the house. He marched along the small dirt road that led to the village, nothing in his mind except the plan. The plan to get them away, to save them.

He barged into the near empty tavern and walked up to the bar.

“Rainulf! You look like shit, old boy.” The fat tavern keep said.

“Where is he?” Rainulf asked without emotion.

“Where is who?”

“Sedgwick.”

“Oh, he’s upstairs. Probably still asleep the lazy little-“

“Wake him up and bring him down here.”

“Sure.” The tavern keep eyed Rainulf sideways and hobbled up the stairs. A series of shouts could be heard before he and Sedgwick came back down.

“Sedgwick, I need your help.”

“Wha?” Sedgwick rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What for?” The tavern keep made himself seem busy with cleaning glasses and pretended not to listen.

“They took Margery and Charlotte.”

“Who?”

Rainulf’s hands sprang out suddenly towards Sedgwick and gripped his collar. The tavern keep yelped and knocked a glass to the floor. “Stop asking bloody questions and follow me.” Rainulf snarled.

“Far east, man!” Sedgwick raised his hands as if calming a wild beast. “I’m with you.”

“We will get weapons from Greynail. Follow.” They left the tavern and went over the street to the blacksmith. When they entered Greynail was admonishing his young apprentice, William.

“Greynail.” Rainulf spoke harshly, “I need you.”

Greynail looked at him and Sedgwick with a wary eye, his apprentice forgotten beside him. “And if I say I’m busy.”

“I can’t te-“ Rainulf’s voice clogged in his throat. An unacknowledged darkness threatened to take him over.

“Just come with us Greynail, I’ll explain later,” Sedgwick clapped Rainulf on the shoulder, “We’re with you. Let me handle it while you get the horses, alright?”

“Yeah,” Rainulf whispered distantly. He walked out of the building and prepared the horse Greynail used to transport his wares. He refused to think of anything but the horses, but his mind tormented him nonetheless.

Sedgwick and Greynail walked out of the building, carrying their blades and supplies in saddle packs. William, who was a scrawny young lad no older than fifteen, walked after them with his own blade.

Rainulf looked him up and down and said, “You sure you want to follow us boy? It’ll be a hard ride, and violence on the other end of it.”

“I’ll not stay here while heroes work goes on.” William’s voice was high and Rainulf saw that his hands were shaking. “And… I’m no coward neither. I’ll fight as well as any grown man, you’ll see.”

“Bloody idiot,” Greynail muttered under his breath as he hoisted up his pack and slung it over a horse. He placed his hands on his hips and grimaced at William. “It’s up to Rainulf if you come or stay. But if he decides to keep you, fetch the packhorse from Tally’s. You’ll not be riding with me; I can tell you that much.”

Rainulf nodded at William, who then ran off into the street.

“He might die Grey,” Rainulf said sombrely.

“Get your things. We’re leaving after he comes back.” Greynail responded without looking up.

Once everyone was ready they headed out of the village by the north road. They travelled in the forest for many hours without speaking. When darkness began to fall they found a clearing and set up camp. While William and Greynail were fetching woof for the fire, Sedgwick approached Rainulf.

“So, do you have a plan? And most importantly, are you sure it was them?”

“Yes and yes. Don’t ask how I’m sure.” Rainulf gave a tired warning glance.

“Ok. What’s the plan?”

Rainulf told him, and when the others got back he told them as well.

“This doesn’t sound very reasonable,” Greynail said, his brow was furrowed with concern.

“Yes it does,” Sedgwick replied.

“Aye, sounds easy enough to me,” William added optimistically.

Rainulf stared at Greynail. “Say what you want to say.”

“It’s just that… ” Greynail coughed and tried to avoid Rainulf’s unbroken eye contact. “I know you’re, uhm, in a bad spot. I’ve been able to piece that much together by now. I just don’t want this to become some kind of elaborate suicide, that’s all. I want to live a long life and-“

“Grey.” Rainulf shook his head and turned his gaze to the ground. “It’s not like that. They - the men I used to work with – took Margery and Charlotte and ransacked the house. I know why, and I mean to take them back. I wouldn’t have brought you lot had I any intention of failing.”

“Aye, ok.” Greynail nodded and chewed his lip. “But, if they’re… not.”

Silence. And then a small voice, almost a whisper. “I can feel it. If they were dead I would never have woken up. I know it. I know it as well as I know the pain I feel in my soul for them.”

There was not much anyone could say after that, and so each made an excuse to get to bed. Rainulf did not sleep.

The next day they packed up their scant belongings and headed further north, following Rainulf’s memory and intuition.

It was midday by the time they were able to see the encampment. Although it was difficult to see through the thick brush, Rainulf could just about discern a makeshift wooden palisade and the top of a large canvas tent. He could faintly hear the sound of men laughing.

He turned around to address the others. “You know the plan, but I’ll repeat it. Grey and Will, find the back entrance and sneak through. Take out anyone if you can do it safely and without detection, then wait for us as near to the big tent as you can.” He pointed towards the top of the tent that he could see, “If you’re not sure it’s the one with gold all over it.” Greynail and William nodded and headed in the direction of the encampment.

As they left, Rainulf started to count his fingers. Once he’d counted them all four times, he and Sedgwick walked up to the main entrance.

Two guards stood in front of a sturdy gate. One of them had a heavily dented helmet and the other wore a hat made of what appeared to be the skin of a badger. The helmeted one spotted them first and held out his hand to stop them. “Hey. You’ve gone the wrong way fellas; this is private land.”

Sedgwick and Rainulf stopped obediently and raised their hands. Sedgwick began speaking in charming tones, “We know. We want to join you.”

Helmet looked at them suspiciously and Badger placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Badger spoke in a voice like a dry frog, “Can ye use a sword?”

“Aye, both of us are handy with one. And knives too.”

“Can ye shut up when yer told and follow orders?”

“Yes.”

Helmet took a wary step towards them, his eyes fixed on Rainulf. “You’re friend, not a speaker, is he?”

“I can speak. Just not very good at it.” Rainulf said raspingly, it took all he was worth not to stab them and run into the camp then and there.

“Give us yer blades then,” Badger held out his filthy hands and took their swords

“Follow me.” Helmut gestured for Badger to open the gate and led them inside.

The encampment was a chaotic jumble of vulgar looking men and vulgar looking structures. Men sliced callouses into buckets next to mud covered tents and horses defecated wherever they happened to be tied. Although the unorganised nature of the camp suggested a large force, Rainulf counted only thirteen men, not including those who were stationed outside.

“Where do you keep the prisoners,” Sedgwick asked casually.

“Uhm,” Helmet scratched his eye tiredly before responding, “being as we only take women alive they mainly stay in the commander's tent. Why?”

“I could use one of them right about now.”

“Couldn’t we all?” Helmet grinned as he led them further towards the large, gilded tent in the heart of the camp. Next to the tent sat a large bonfire. The logs were carefully placed so as to allow a roughly human sized hole in the centre. The bonfire was unlit, but lazy tendrils of smoke still crept from it.

Before they reached the tent, a commotion began to stir further into the camp. Rainulf’s stomach dropped when he saw a large bald man drag Greynail out from under a cart.

“Oy, what’s this fatty doing ere!” The bald man shouted in the voice of a dull child who enjoys hurting animals. “You’re not supposed to be there little man!”

The man lifted his booted foot and slammed it into Greynail’s side. At that, scrawny William leapt out from his hiding spot and charged at the man with a small sword, shouting, “Get off him you bastard!”

As William charged, Rainulf swore and whispered to Sedgwick, “Go to Will, I’ll take care of Helmet.”

Before Sedgwick could reach him the large man swatted William’s blade out of his hand and grabbed his head. Almost gracefully, he snapped William’s neck.

“No!” Greynail wailed right as Sedgwick picked up William’s sword and thrusted it at the large man. Sedgwick missed and was forced to leap back as the man swung at his head with a meaty fist.

A crowd had begun to form around the scene, borne of both curiosity and mild amusement. Only as the fighting really started did someone raise the alarm.

Helmet, whose real name was Paul, shouted, “Captain,” before being attacked from behind by Rainulf. Two thickly muscled arms wrapped around his neck and dragged him nearly off his feet.

As Helmet squirmed in Rainulf’s grip, the Captain waltzed out of his tent, bare from the waist up. He was an attractive man, and strong.

The Captain looked over the scene calmly, seeming to weigh the clouds overhead as much as the three intruders – two of which who were directly threatening his men – in front of him. Sedgwick and the large man slowly reduced their fighting to the occasional snarl and barely concealed feint, their attention both focused on the imposing figure before them.

Finally, he spoke, “Let's calm down and figure this all out. And give him some air.” The Captain gestured casually towards Helmet, who was bug eyed and struggling frantically for breath.

Rainulf lowered Helmet a little and eased his grip, though only enough to open his airways.

“That’s better. Now, Rainulf, I assume you’re here for your wife and daughter?”

“Yes, damn you!” Rainulf snarled acidly, “You promised you’d leave us alone, after all I’ve done for you.”

The Captain nodded regretfully, “Yes. Yes I did promise. Unfortunately, when we passed near to your village, I couldn’t help but remember how Margery used to-“

“Shut up!” Rainulf barked, his face was red with hate. “Give them back to me and I’ll let him live,” he shook Helmet roughly.

“Of course, of course.” The Captain pursed his lips and gave Rainulf an apologetic look, “It’s just that, Margery turned out to be a bit more of a cu-, handful than I had anticipated. And you’re little one wasn’t exactly helping matters, what with her squealing and all.” He placed his hands on his hips and sighed. “I’ll be frank with you Rainulf, my old friend. I fucking burned ‘em both in that bonfire.”

Rainulf’s face went slack and pale. His mind struggled to comprehend, refused to.

“I sort of regret it now that you’re here if that makes any difference.” The Captain stood there awkwardly for a few moments and seeing that no one was adding anything else to the conversation continued on. “I can let you lot go if you’d like. I know there’s not enough fighting men in that town to send a decent force against us, and we’ll be moving on soon anyway.”

Rainulf let go of Helmet and placed his head in his hands. Sedgwick threw his sword down warily and pulled Greynail up off the ground. As the group stumbled their way toward the entrance, the Captain called out, “I’ll bury your friend.”

“Thanks.” Sedgwick croaked, sincerely.

Rainulf stared at the ground, slack-jawed, as he was led to his horse.

Nobody spoke for a long time.

The campfire was deathly silent as Cob finished his story. After an uncomfortable silence, Cob coughed and spoke with forced enthusiasm, “Funny story, I actually got that tale from a dream I had a while back.”

“Nightmare, you mean.” Robin’s eyes were puffy with tears that she was trying to hide. “You should ‘ave warned us, I’ll not be able to sleep now.”

“I thought it was great.” Gunnar said, “It was quite compelling.”

“I agree. I enjoy that In a story.” Miru added.

“Just because it was… compelling. Doesn’t mean it’s good.” Bryan added emphatically. “I’m sorry Cob, but it just wasn’t enjoyable.”

Robbin nodded in support, “I like stories that have a message, and a good ending, like mine for example. That story was just…sad. I don’t understand why anything happened, why there was no closure.”

“The message is that there was no closure. That sometimes terrible things happen that we have no control over.” Miru said defensively. “Just because you cannot comprehend this, does not mean it was a bad story. In fact, it proves its depth of complexity.”

“Bah!” Robin aimed a dismissive wave her hand at Miru, “I’m going to sleep. Tell me who wins tomorrow.”

“Me too, my mind needs to recover.”

They both got up from their seats and fetched their blankets before laying down on the ground further away from the fire.

“I think that I’ll retire as well,” Gunnar said, “an afternoon well spent.”

Now there was just Miru, Cob, Brack, and Trout, who was fast asleep already.

“So, Brack, who won?” Miru asked eagerly.

Brack stood up and walked to Cob. Softly, he said, “I’m sorry Cob. I still miss her as well.” Brack handed Cob the knife and patted him on the shoulder. Cob nodded, his face strained between gratitude and suppressed grief.

“Every day Brack, every day,” Cob whispered.

The group slowly gathered their things and went to sleep.