Chapter Four: The Girl Emerging from the Mist

“Has your brother not returned yet? How long has it been since you last ate?” she asked with genuine concern. Though she had her suspicions, she still wanted to confirm.

Ralph shook his head but remained silent.

A wave of sorrow welled up in Annie’s heart. Ralph’s silence was like a knife cutting through her, reminding her painfully of the days when she lost her father.

But she knew that grief would change nothing. She had to be strong—for herself and to set an example for this child.

Her nostrils, once filled with the earthy scent of soil, musk, fresh dampness, and the faint aroma of plant oils, now recoiled at the smell wafting from Ralph as the wind shifted. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, her mind going blank.

The sharp, pungent odor was a potent mix of minerals and microbial compounds from sweat—a scent intensified by the overactive sweat glands common among white men, almost to the point of suffocation. It was why she had always been fastidious about cleanliness.

She bathed nearly every day; without regular washing, the stench would become unbearable. This was also why she disliked vigorous exercise that caused sweating.

Her father, Feld, had once detested bathing, much to young Annie’s disgust. Their frequent disputes on the matter often ended in cold wars, until Feld relented after several days of enduring the reek of smoked fish and dried seabird meat.

Ralph slowly lifted his head, tears mingling with runny nose marks upon his face. He shook his head but said nothing.

Suddenly, a loud rumbling sound came from his belly.

Annie touched her own stomach, puzzled. At first, she thought it was her hunger, but soon realized it was Ralph’s protesting hunger.

“Come with me!” she said without hesitation, reaching out to pull the “stinky kid” to his feet.

At that moment, she swore that not even a cat passing by her home would escape a forced bath.

Leading the shy, awkward Ralph back to her dwelling, she began preparing food and hot water for him.

After listening to the tale swelling in Ralph’s puffy cheeks, Annie made a decision. “From now on, you’ll live with me. But you must follow my rules—you have to bathe every day, understand?”

Ralph looked at her with puzzled eyes. After a moment’s thought, he met her gaze, his heart beating faster, and subtly nodded.

She was one step closer to forming her warband.

Annie took out a bar of soap made from animal fat and wood ash—imbued with a sulfurous scent reminiscent of rotten eggs, designed to kill bacteria and mites.

Warm water cascaded over Ralph’s thin shoulders as Annie carefully scrubbed away the grime with the sulfur soap.

Each stroke wiped away the pains of the past; each rinse was a baptism of hope for the future.

After the bath, Annie placed Ralph in her father’s room, where she was washing clothes with the sulfur soap and bathwater, hoping to breathe some vitality into the house.

The sorrow left by Feld’s departure seemed to ease, and she felt she might finally sleep well.

But gradually, the dreams began to shift.

In her dream, she stood at the prow of a ship, clutching the sail ropes. Thunderstorms raged nearby, rain mercilessly pelting her face, soaking her hair through.

The sails had long been furled, and the heavy armor on her chest made it hard to breathe.

“Conspiracy! It’s all a conspiracy! We cannot turn back—we should never have set sail!”

Behind her, two rows of Viking warriors rowed with all their might. Some cursed loudly, their voices sowing unrest among the crew.

The storm ahead could not stop their warship from cutting through the waves, but fate was cruel. The thunder and mighty waves forged by Thor’s hammer shattered their vessel.

Annie struggled in the water, the towering waves preventing her from surfacing to breathe. Death in the sea loomed.

“It’s her! Damned her! This is all a conspiracy! Loki has his eyes on her!”

Amid the accusations, Annie awoke with a start, sweat dampening her collar, sticky and unsettling.

The storm in her dream mirrored the confusion and fear within her. She knew she had to face them—whether the far-off trials of reality or the demons named Fear dwelling in her heart.

She wiped away the sweat, cleansing herself with cold water and soap before changing into fresh clothes.

She felt compelled not only to recruit a band of easily guided Viking children as future warriors but also to build a sturdier ship capable of braving the tempestuous seas.

She intended to sail—not to die! A small skiff daring to cross the vast Vorden Sea? That was madness, leaving life and death to the whims of fate.

Covering her head with a brown bear-skin blanket, she mapped out the tasks ahead in her mind.

Time slipped quietly by, and after a busy morning, Annie looked up.

“Ralph?” she called softly to the boy sitting by the hearth, baking barley cakes. “Can you do me a favor?”

Ralph turned his head in confusion.

With the morning mist still lingering, Annie and Ralph each carried a basket filled with fragrant barley cakes and smoked fish as they set out.

They paid close attention to the remote corners—places often sheltering vagrants and homeless children.

Annie’s mission was more than rescuing war orphans; it was a blueprint for her future. She knew these children were the key to her dream.

In that moment, a maternal radiance seemed to emanate from her.

The path was muddy. Annie tread carefully, choosing the driest spots to avoid soiling her boots.

Stopping near the livestock shed, a man and woman paused. Annie noticed a figure crouched beneath the thatch—a vagrant.

Ralph moved forward, but Annie gently pulled him back, shaking her head and leading him quietly around the man.

“Why?” Ralph asked, puzzled.

“Rule is always from the top down,” Annie whispered. “While we are still weak, it’s best not to recruit adults.”

Ralph half-understood.

At that moment, Annie spotted a “stinky kid” crouching under an eave. She approached, appearing like a mist-born maiden in his eyes.

She handed him a barley cake and some smoked fish. “Child, what’s your name?”

“Robert!” the boy’s voice was tender, seemingly younger than Ralph. His eyes fixed hungrily on the basket’s contents.

The aroma of food overwhelmed him; he was starving.

“All right, Robert, can you do me a favor?” Annie blinked, her voice muffled behind her face cloth, soft and gentle.

She felt like a wolf grandmother luring Little Red Riding Hood.

Robert looked up once, then took the food with his dirty little hands.

In that instant, an unspoken contract was forged.

Annie and Ralph’s group grew steadily, attracting six boys and two girls of varying ages, including Robert.

Though the food in the baskets wasn’t yet all handed out, Annie regretted that she could not satisfy every hungry child’s desire. She feared overeating might harm or even kill them.

The starving always eat quickly; by the time they feel somewhat full, they've already eaten too much.

Watching the children, Annie silently vowed to do whatever it took to ensure their survival in this harsh world.

Only when they thrived could she find peace.

“Miss Annie, what must we do?” Robert asked curiously during their journey, his eyes never leaving her basket.

“No, you must take care of yourselves. Even Freyr, the god of harvest, does not deliver food straight to people’s mouths. You must go out and fetch it yourselves, and then put it in your bellies!” Annie replied.

The group exchanged glances, seemingly unable to fully grasp Annie’s meaning. They clustered around her, as if proximity to the one who fed them could soothe their unease.

Back home, Annie meticulously taught the boys how to build an earthen furnace, detailing every step—from framing to mixing straw with clay to prevent cracking under the sun.

Knowing their memories might be poor, she divided the instructions so each boy could remember a portion.

She refrained from joining in; she disliked handling clay, which irritated her skin.

Once all was arranged, Annie took the two girls up the mountain.

Standing in the forest, the breeze lifting her skirt, she looked back over the settlement and the sea. Her vision expanded, and a surge of boldness filled her chest.

She was about to undertake something even she deemed mad.

Annie plucked a plant and held it out for the girls to see.