Note: I don't own "Vikings" or it's characters. I receive no profits from this story.
Wolf's Run
The fur-cloaked warrior ran. His younger brother, braid bouncing, kept pace and screamed like a kid. A hatchet embedded itself in a tree near the warrior's head and branches shattered behind them. A shadow flashed at the edge of his vision and the brothers twisted over a fallen log.
Pew! Pew!
"Rollo Someone's-son! When I get my hands on y-"
Thwack! Thwack!
A thump followed with the whispering of a body dragging leaf-litter. Rollo peered over the rotting wood, coming face-to-blade with his former aggressor's axe. He cursed quietly and rose, while his brother snickered.
"Umm...thanks, Arne."
"That was quite impressive for a one-eyed eagle."
"Very funny, Ragnar." The Norseman muttered, adjusting his eyepatch. He nudged the corpse before looking back at the brothers. "Just what in Helheim did you do to incur his wrath?"
Rollo and Ragnar glanced sheepishly at each other. The elder shifted his cloak and began.
"I just might have slept with his sister and he may have figured it out, becoming somewhat less than pleased."
Arne blinked. "So, you fucked up?"
Rollo nodded. "Yeah..." He paused. "Wait! Why are you out here?"
"I was hunting, then I heard what sounded like a terrified baby goat." He murmured, raising eyebrow at Ragnar.
"Tell no-one!"
"Well, that's what you were petting when I had told you to keep watch!" Rollo growled.
"Hey! You told me that I could pet them if I helped you!"
"You two have serious issues." Arne sighed.
"Whatever," Rollo shrugged. "Let's go before he starts decaying."
"Fine by me."
"Sure..."
Rollo headed off, flanked by brother and mildly concerned acquaintance.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism and comments are welcome.
Best wishes!
- Gray Carolean