Stian aimed the arrow at the bird and in a swift, soundless move let the arrow go. It landed right in the bird’s massive chest, and the creature fell to the forest floor. He moved over the brush and thick roots of the spruce trees that littered these parts of the forest.
After picking up the carcass, he turned to head back to his hut, which was far away from the other villagers.
He was already too close to the village for his comfort. But it was necessary, as he had to hunt and eat, and stocking up on provisions meant he needed to go anywhere and everywhere that was necessary.
He was about to leave, but the sight of a motionless body on the ground, of brightly colored clothing covering the form atop the fallen leaves, had him stilling.
He crouched once more and waited for movement, knowing it was a human. Seeing the strange coloring of the clothing it wore led Stian to believe it was not someone from this area.
When no movement occurred for several moments, he stood, grabbed the ax at his side, and walked toward the form. He stopped a few feet from it and stared down at what he realized was a young female. Her skin was a pale, creamy color, and her long blonde hair was matted with dirt and leaves.
She lay right in the middle of a mud patch, and her clothing was torn and dirty. He looked at her, stared at the strange, colorful things she wore, and the small satchel-type bag that lay just a few feet from her.
Stian should have left her, but she would surely die, especially when the sun set and the temperature dropped. It was frigid at night, especially with no fire to heat her. But something inside Stian wouldn’t move away, wouldn’t forget about this stranger that was not from the neighboring village.
He glanced up, could see the very tops of the huts in the village just a short distance away, and told himself someone would surely come out hunting and find her. He turned, took a step away from her, but stopped. Stian turned around again and crouched before her. He sheathed his ax at his hip once more, reached out, and pushed a strand of her hair away.
She had a nasty wound on her forehead, dried blood on her flesh and hair, and a bruise starting to form. He scanned the rest of her body, took in the garments she had on, and picked at the material.
The fabric was like nothing he’d ever felt or seen, seemingly to be poorly made. She wore no leathers and had no weapons. Who was this woman? Surely the gods had not dropped her here to die?
He looked at her face again. She was a beautiful woman, even if she was hurt, filthy, and clearly not of his people. But maybe that was a good thing. His people shunned him, forced him out because they feared him. Stian welcomed that fear in them though. It made them wary, made them smarter.
She ate well—that he could tell by the thickness of her body and the curves he could see through her filthy, wet clothing.
He lifted her easily into his arms. She was small, much shorter than his towering height. He could have left her to die, but instead, he’d bring her back to his hut and make her his. He was in need of a wife, a bed partner, and what a perfect gift from the gods for a monster like him. Whoever she was didn’t matter anymore, because now she was the wife of Stian Dagmar.
4
Agata opened her eyes. The lighting was dim and not painful as she looked at the ceiling. Her head throbbed, but the feeling of a warm, wet cloth on her forehead was pleasing. How had she gotten back to the hotel?
She closed her eyes again, lifted her hand to rub her aching head, and breathed out. She couldn’t remember much, didn’t think she even had any alcohol at the festival, but she had to have gotten drunk to be feeling this way, right?
Opening her eyes again, she blinked at the ceiling and then knitted her brows. That wasn’t the ceiling in her hotel room, not with those crude wooden beams, and what was that? Hay? When she pushed herself up, a wince and gasp left her as her arm gave out from her weight.
Looking down, she noticed a white bandage wrapped around her forearm, but it was the thick animal hides and fur she was on that had her confused. Was she still at the festival, maybe in one of the novelty huts?
The sound of metal on metal had her snapping her head to the right. She felt her eyes widen at the sight of a very naked male back in her view. The man who was crouched before a fire set in the center of the hut was monstrously big, with wide shoulders, and muscles layered upon each other.