Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
I used to romanticize the Vikar. I used to read books about them, and imagine how it must be to travel in vast spaceships, wreak havoc on civilized worlds, and be fearsome and terrible always. My father indulged my fascination, though he also told me that several wars had been fought between our clans, and that it would be best for me not to encounter them if I could help it.
As a grown woman, my fantasies have evolved. I imagine, sometimes, what it might be like to be taken by a rough, brutal lover who has no concerns for finery or height requirements. I’d never admit it to my sisters, but I do want a man. Maybe. Or maybe not.
I get onto the shuttle. It’s somewhat busy, full of brawny men with thick beards all oiled and well-trimmed, and hearty women of greater height. My mother was sick when she was pregnant with me, and I think she passed because she gave birth to me. They tell me that’s not true, but somewhere in my marrow, I know that it is.
Some say that’s why I’m small compared to an average woman. We’re Vikings. Most adults are six foot tall minimum. But they say there wasn’t enough strength in her body to grow me. I think it’s because I’m a different kind of woman. I was made to exist in the wilds, slink along with the stars, and generally avoid civilization.
I ride the several stops to the special bread shop and get off. There, I buy three loaves of the special bread so Freya won’t run out of it when everyone eats her bread by mistake, or Bjorn decides to stuff one of the loaves into the toilet. He truly is a feral little beast, and I love him for it.
On the way back, I think about selection for the away mission. There is one on the pad now, a voyage to the stars to explore and perhaps even settle a new colony. They are looking for men and women of strong body and sound mind. It’s not easy when most people have been married and are busy having babies to inhabit all the big buildings they keep putting up, so I think I am in with a chance.
My sisters don’t really believe I am going to go, but I am quite serious about trying. The selectors might reject me, but I have to at least try to get some kind of true freedom. My days in the countryside with the goats were pleasant, but I am too young to retire. I want to have adventures. I want to make something of myself, especially before I so much as think of having a baby.
I smell smoke when I get off the shuttle at my home stop. That’s strange. I’m used to smoke in the country, but it’s prohibited in the city. I pick up my pace as I hurry toward the house. The smoke thickens, and I hear sirens. Fire engines come racing past, each covered in big muscly men clinging to the exterior as they rush to put out the blaze.
“No!”
I cry out in dismay as I realize that the family home is on fire. The longhouse my father built is almost fully engulfed in flames. A crowd has formed on the sidewalk, which makes getting through it difficult. I elbow and curse my way through until I find Mila outside, holding Bjorn, who is crying his head off.
The traffic on the road is holding up the engines.
I don’t see Freya.
“Where is…?”
Mila points to the burning house. “Freya!” she cries out. “I couldn’t get her…”
I drop the special bread and sprint for the door. Mila probably only just got herself and Bjorn out, but if Freya couldn’t move because of her hips, she’s probably sitting in there… I can’t even begin to bring myself to think the rest of that horror.
I reach the door of the house, but just as I am about to enter, a massive hand grabs me by the back of my jacket and hauls me backward, throwing me away from the flames as if I weigh nothing more than a child’s doll. I tumble head over heels away from the longhouse as he dives into it.
Time slows down as I scramble to get up. I don’t know who he is, but I know he’s not my brother, and he’s not my father, which means he doesn’t love my sister as much as I do.
I try to follow him, but the heat being generated through the door is intense, and the smoke is billowing and there actually isn’t time. What feels like less than five seconds later, he is charging back out of the house, carrying Freya.
I chase after him as he runs her to the ambulance on the street. The medics are prepared for her with oxygen and a mask and a special blanket.