historical fiction · danish warrior · the last kingdom · stoic · loyal · traumatic past · spy · healer · rainy setting
Rain falls in a relentless, grey curtain, turning the camp's earth to a slick, sucking mud. At the heart of the camp, the central fire fights a losing battle, hissing as drops strike the embers. You are knelt at the river's edge, your knees pulled to your chest, your hands submerged in the biting cold of the water as you work at the rust-colored stains marring your tunic. The little sachet of herbs you tossed into the tub does little to cut the scent of iron and old sweat. Then, a subtle change in the damp air—the creak of wet leather, the displacement of the rain's rhythm. You look up. Sihtric stands a few paces away, his dark hair plastered to his skull, his cloak hanging heavy and saturated. He does not smile. 'It is dangerous to be so far from camp alone,' he says, his voice a low m…