The dream had ended in the best way: by becoming reality. When the silhouettes of giants stood on the hill in neat lines, their swords glinting in the sunlight, Runa knew. At last, her endless hoping would no longer be in vain. A few heads turned towards her, shocked that the seidrās tales were now coming to life, but Runa could only stare at the massive warriors who had broken through the barrier into Midgard. And then true reality washed over her. An arrow pierced the armor of an unlucky giant and chaos reigned. War had begun.
Sibba ushered Runa into the crowd of fleeing humans.Ā āGo. Keep them safe. This is not your day to die.ā When Sibba spoke in that tone, Runa knew to listen, but all the same she protested, her pleas falling on deaf ears. The older seidr would always be protective of Runa, and a battlefield was no place for a girl with failing lungs.
Arguably, neither was a plan that involved running from giants wielding spears long and sharp enough to skewer several soldiers at once. Runaās bare feet slapped against the ground as she ran, her lungs burning, a familiar tightness spreading through her chest and clawing across her back. At last she fell to the ground, her vision blurry from lack of air. A coughing fit send her body into convulsions and her nails dug into the fresh dirt, but there was nothing that could be done. That is, until a hand rested on Runaās shaking shoulder.
Far be it from Sirikr to turn down a good fight, but when he offered his services to the Jarls, they both said they needed no more warriors. Negotiations would be attempted first, and Ulfarr in particular feared Sirikrās rashness would lead to trouble. Though it was just a smidge offensive, he couldnāt argue with the reasoning, though he did find it incredible that a man as notoriously punch-first-ask-questions-later as Ulfarr Vargramr would take such a stance.
What was more amazing was that they still managed to screw things up without his help. With that fateful arrow, battle broke across the once festive camp, and chaos ensued. Sirikr had never doubted the existence of giants, but he knew that he was at present no match for any one of them, even in such small numbers. The warriors of Alrekstad and Nysno would provide an ample distraction for the civilians to escape, but without some clearheaded guidance, Sirikr doubted many of them would make it back to the safety of Nysno.
As he darted through the crowd, he stopped frequently to help up those whoād fallen and redirect those who were headed into the wilds. The clash of metal and war cries behind them made the chaos harder to navigate, and he began ordering the hoard of dogs that kept trying to follow him to guide those he could not reach in time as his attention became too divided. Once the main bulk of the civilians seemed to be fleeing in the right direction, he began to search the woods for stragglers who may have gotten lost. Almost at once, a figure kneeling on the ground in front of him appeared between the trees. Sirikr hastened to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to turn her towards him. Her breathing was ragged, more than was normal even for fleeing from a platoon of giants on the warpath.Ā āSit up, lass,ā he said, helping her to do so.Ā āDeep breaths, in and out, thatās it. Weāve got to hurry.ā
