The first rays of dawn spilled over the snow-laden hills, painting the world in hues of pale gold and icy white. Skjoldheim, the village that had borne witness to both the barbarian horde and its defeat, was now quiet, its breath heavy with the aftermath of celebration. Embers from the night's bonfires glowed faintly in the morning chill, their smoke curling upward like whispered prayers to the gods.
In the village center, Bjorn Thunderclaw stood with his warriors, his hands gripping the reins of his steed. He exchanged firm handshakes with Eirik of Varhold, the two chiefs sharing a look that spoke volumes of respect.
"Safe journey back, Bjorn," Eirik said, adjusting the fur cloak draped over his shoulders. His voice carried a mixture of warmth and pride. "And thank you—for reminding us what it means to fight as brothers."
Bjorn smirked. "Just don't get too comfortable, Eirik. The next time you hear my name, it might be because I've taken your best warriors to join me."
Eirik laughed a deep and hearty sound that echoed in the cold air. "I'd call that an honor."
Beside them, Thrain of Skjoldheim crossed his arms, his grin half-hidden by his beard. "Bjorn, if your village ever grows too peaceful for you, you know Skjoldheim could always use another axe."
Bjorn clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll remember that, Thrain. And if either of you ever need help, send for me."
With that, Eirik and his warriors mounted their horses, their banners snapping sharply in the brisk wind. As the Varhold warriors rode out, disappearing over the snowy hills, Bjorn turned to his own. His warriors stood ready, their gear packed, the horses stamping impatiently against the icy ground.
Thrain lingered for a moment longer, watching as Bjorn's group prepared to leave. "You know," he said, his voice quieter now, "what happened here will be told for years. You've set something in motion, Bjorn. Something none of us fully understand."
Bjorn glanced at him, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe. But for now, I'm just taking my people home."
Thrain nodded a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. "Safe travels, Thunderclaw."
With that, Bjorn mounted his horse, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the snow. He gave a sharp whistle, and his warriors began their trek back to their village.
The journey home was peaceful, the tension of recent battles replaced by the rhythmic sound of hooves crunching through the snow. The towering pines of the forest swayed gently in the breeze, their needles dusted with frost. Gabriel, ever the quiet observer, walked alongside the group, his wings folded close to his back. His ethereal presence drew glances from the warriors, though most had grown accustomed to his otherworldly demeanor.
As they rode, Bjorn kept his gaze forward, his mind occupied with thoughts of what lay ahead. Behind him, his daughters—Astrid, Liv, and Eira—rode side by side, their laughter breaking through the stillness as they exchanged stories.
Gabriel walked at their pace, his pale eyes reflecting the light as he listened to the sisters' chatter. Astrid leaned forward in her saddle, her voice carrying a playful edge. "So, Gabriel," she began, "what now? Do you plan to keep following us around, or do you have grander plans in mind?"
Gabriel glanced at her, his lips curving into a faint smile. "I suppose I'll stay for a while. This world is… fascinating. There's much I still need to understand."
Liv tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "What is there to understand? It's cold, it's full of dangers, and most of the time, people are either fighting or preparing to fight."
Gabriel chuckled softly, his tone light. "Perhaps that's true. But even in a world of battles, there's more to see. I'll figure it out as I go."
Eira grinned, leaning forward in her saddle. "Figure it out, huh? That sounds suspiciously vague, Gabriel. Are you sure you're not just stalling?"
Gabriel's pale eyes flicked to her, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening into amusement. "Or perhaps I'm just waiting for the right moment."
Astrid raised an eyebrow, her tone playful. "And what exactly are you waiting for?"
Gabriel's smile turned faintly mischievous. "Maybe I'll settle down one day. Who knows? I might even consider finding… companions."
The subtle shift in his tone didn't go unnoticed. His gaze swept over the three sisters briefly, the faintest hint of warmth in his eyes. The pause that followed was just long enough for the meaning to sink in.
Astrid looked away quickly, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. Liv rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched with a smile. Eira, ever the bold one, grinned openly. "Companions, huh? Well, good luck with that, Gabriel. I'm sure you'll have no shortage of volunteers."
Riding a few paces ahead, Bjorn overheard the exchange. His sharp ears caught the teasing tone in Gabriel's voice, and his green eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced back. Watching his daughters' reactions, he couldn't help but shake his head with a wry grin.
"That man," Bjorn muttered to himself, "is going to give me more trouble than any barbarian ever did."
One of Bjorn's warriors, riding beside him, noticed the chief's expression. "Everything all right, Chief?"
Bjorn snorted, adjusting his grip on the reins. "As long as Gabriel doesn't forget his manners, everything will be fine."
The sun was beginning its slow descent when Bjorn's village came into view, the sturdy wooden walls standing tall against the winter landscape. Smoke curled from the chimneys, a sign of life and warmth waiting within. The sight stirred a sense of relief among the returning warriors, their tired bodies yearning for rest.
As they approached the gates, the sentries called out, their voices filled with excitement. "The chief has returned! Open the gates!"
The heavy wooden gates creaked open, revealing the bustling village within. Villagers rushed to greet them, their faces alight with joy and relief. Children ran alongside the horses, their laughter ringing through the crisp air. Women embraced their husbands, tears of happiness glistening in their eyes.
Gabriel followed quietly, his pale eyes taking in the scene. Though he had seen battle and victory, the simple joy of these people stirred something in him. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel at home among them.
As Bjorn dismounted, he was immediately surrounded by villagers eager to hear about the battle. He raised a hand to calm them, his voice steady. "We're home," he said simply. "And the stories can wait. For now, let's enjoy this moment."
The warriors dismounted as well, their greetings mingling with the laughter and chatter of the villagers. Gabriel remained at the edge of the gathering, his presence a quiet but steady comfort to those who noticed him.
As the sun dipped lower, casting the village in hues of orange and gold, Bjorn turned to his people with a faint smile. For now, the battles were behind them, and the warmth of home awaited.