Then the thinking stopped. Northman pitched forward first, as was his privilege. His legs felt heavy in the initial first few strides. They always did when nervousness weighed them down. But he could feel his men at the back of him now, lending his strength. That too was his privilege – to tap into the spirits of nearly a hundred men and have them raise him up into a War God.
The three parties breached the trees at once, storming into the clearing. Even then, it took them a second to notice. Eyes seemed to comprehend, but there was a pause before screams came to vocalize that concern.
By then, Northman had already buried his sword in the back of a man as he leaned against the crates on the outside of his tent. A vicious kick of the bleeding body and he sent the canvas tent collapsing inwards, much to the screams of those inside as they wrestled for the entrance.
