Warlord in love

Almost Zen

She could feel it from the distance, the smell that was traveling with the wind, fragments of fallen souls and danger warning her that something bad is just about to happen. She swallowed the fear and continued with her meditation.

Away from the running thoughts she could travel closer to her true self, self that was merely a pale shadow in the current reality. Lost in time, deafened by her strong emotions she didn't hear the horse and a set of wheels approaching her from behind.

He was boiling inside, aware that every moment is precious for his brother fate.

Floki was first to approach the girl, guided by the curiosity for he never seen such act in Christians. She was sitting with her legs crossed on the rock, right above the wild river, dressed in long white dress. Her hair was long black as the night and straight as an arrow.

Ivar's horse stopped in front of rocky terrain, refusing to take him closer to her. He felt his rage rising, her mystic ritual only contributing to its intensity. She was surrounded but still isolated, at first he thought maybe she is just paralyzed by fear, but her breathing was harmonious and peaceful. His voice broke the silence.

"Floki bring her to me!"

Imperative male voice brought her to reality again. She was back confused, curious she opened her eyes and the sight in front of her, was a face of a man, handsome face of an older man hidden under black makeup. Examining the sign on his forehead she got Goosebumps and a dose of fear, dose of memory.

He had wild eyes full of energy so alive, and in them she saw fascination still not aware about what. Closer to reality of her situation she realized, Heathens; ruthless demons came to her village, came to her, and she asked herself first, why she is still alive. They could have killed her, while she was in deep trance, and yet they were looking at her like she is some kind of wonder.

Floki caught her and started dragging her, amazed when he realized that she is not opposing to his will. She accepted the violent invitation, stepping alone forward into unknown, ready to face whatever stands her way. Still his grip was burning her flesh, her eyes wandered till she saw a white horse with the black armor, and unusual vehicle that she knew for only from Roman history books. Looking up she saw a man, his posture was authoritative, shoulders broad and strong, and his eyes captured her frozen unable to move further, leaving her without steady supplies of oxygen which made her head spin. His gaze locked on her was a strong force a serious threat to her Zen.