Kram had the same dream again. He dreamed that Rolf was trying to run away from him as he chased after the boy on the frozen tundra. He tried to called out to him, but the wild winds blew his words away. He was exhausted by the chase and he may have threaten to chop Rolf's dick off like he always did. But the boy was swift, faster than the snow swallows that glided across the tundra. In a blink, he was out of Kram's sight.

Kram clambered onto a rock with much difficulty—the old wounds were at it again—so that he could get a better view of the boy. As he steadied himself on the rock, a giant tower suddenly erected right in front of him. Dark smoke billowed from the top. It looked familiar, he thought to himself. And then he heard the war horns coming from all directions. It was the sound of the Unseen, the legendary mercenary group that Kram used to be part of. Before the din of the horn faded, shadowy figures of his former brothers and sisters appeared before him.

"Why?" The shadowy asked in unison.

The question took the wind out of Kram's sail. His legs gave in, letting him slump onto the rock. He murmured painfully:"I had to...I had to."

And then there was another din of the war horn, and this time, Kram woke up in foul sweat.

Kram drew a large gulp of air and steadied his trembling hand. He rose form the bed to get some water and noticed the girl tied to his bedpost had already waken up. She stared at him with two innocent blue eyes. There were indignation and protest in her look. Kram wondered if she had heard anything he uttered in his nightmare. The girl was the only young female in the village that they raided. Kram had killed her father; he had to, her father had challenged him in front of his soldiers. He took no pleasure in the killing, the barbarians raided in order to survive, not for pleasures.

Over the years, Kram had gotten the raiding down to an art: one never killed the goose that lay the eggs. Killing one of the family member —especially the old ones—would be enough to make the rest of them hand over their food.

As a barbarian chieftain, Kram was merciless in the eyes of near by villagers; a crude and twisted incantation of devil himself. When Bolan the Rock took the girl by her tiny waist, Kram knew he had to intervene. He caught a glimpse of the girl's young face and realized that she was only a child. He knew he had to protect her so he claimed her for himself. Bolan grunted something under his breath, but Kram didn't mind. Bolan's time to challenge his position would come; but not now, not yet.

Kram had been the chieftain of the wolverine clan for well over twenty years and even then, no one knew where he had came from. He simply showed up one day and challenged and killed the former leader in a single strike.

Every chieftain except for Kram had blood brothers, they were the other barbarians that aided the chieftain in his usurping the throne. Most chieftain would have more than five blood brothers if not more, the Elk Clan for example, their current chieftain, Gruff the Red had 15 blood brothers. However, Kram had none.

Kram still remembered the surprised look on the old chieftain's face when he deliver the killing blow. In the old man's dying breath, he asked his challenger's name, Kram didn't give him that satisfaction.

Kram struggled to stand up; his back ached and the dream wasn't that unrealistic after all. He swallowed down the pain and then sighed; the noise make he girl flinched a little. Sensing the girl's movement, Kram gave her a side long glance.

"What's your name, girl?" Kram asked; his voice rumbled like a distant thunder.

The girl looked down and didn't answer.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Kram pressed on.

She decide to keep her silence as tears streaked across her checks.

"By the wolf! Fine, fine, just be quiet, I will get you some thing to eat first."

Kram rubbed his back and turned around to get dressed. It was a sunny day outside; sunlight streamed through the roof of the Ghotii and illuminated the interior. The snow-lion pelt on Kram's tunic shone brightly under the sun, it was a good pelt and a even better kill. Kram skinned into the tunic with more wince and moans.

"These wounds will be the death of me!" Kram cursed.

When he walked to the weapon rack, it took him a moment to take in what was missing.

The top tier of the rack was empty, and his battle ax was gone.

Kram's first thought was that Bolan had done it. As the new graduates from the band of juvagaze, Bolan had not learned the value of inconspicuous. Kram had caught him twice taking the first bite of the hunting spoils . It was a brazen provocation to Kram's authority, but Kram had let the first two times slide. Trice was the charm. Kram would make sure that Bolan had no more hands to touch the spoil if he was caught again.

Being the chieftain was a delicate matter; it required not only strength but also wits. That was why, despite his deteriorating physical condition, Kram was never worry about being replaced by a young brute.

Nevertheless, he remembered how drunk Bolan was the night before. He complained insistently to everyone that Kram had unfairly taken his share of war spoil. It took three able hands to carry that drunken fool back to his tent. Kram shook his head, it couldn't be Bolan who stole the battle ax, that prick wouldn't be able to walk straight much less sneak into his tent unnoticed.

If it wasn't Bolan, who would it be?

When realization finally dawned upon Kram, he furrowed his brows and tightened his mouth into a thin smile.

"Where is Rolf? Fetch that idiot to me! I am going to chop his little bird off for real this time!" Kram barked an order at the guards standing out side.