Prompt: Vacation
Characters: Sigrun
Last day of troll hunting season was finally, finally here.
The start of summer was always a time of good cheer and camaraderie, when all of the new recruits first came in and soldiers who'd spent the winter cooped up on sentry duty finally got a chance to get out and do something. There was drinking, running contests to see who could make the most kills, and much friendly teasing of the new recruits.
As the season went on, however, the general enthusiasm always began to wear out. Their numbers were stretched ever thinner as more and more soldiers sustained wounds that wouldn't allow them to stay in the field—to lose someone to death or permanent injury was especially hard on a team. Thankfully that hadn't happened to Sigrun's team this year, but they were short a scout who couldn't be replaced, and two of their cats were young and inexperienced, barely out of kittenhood and couldn't be relied on to help in a fight. Sigrun herself was covered in bruises, and woke every day feeling all of the strains of the previous week.
Yep, she'd say that she was ready for a break. All she had to do was get through this one last day with everyone alive.
Of course, keeping her team alive was no excuse to slack.
Sigrun wanted to start the off-season with the knowledge of a job well-completed, and pushed them hard to cover the ground they'd been assigned to sweep. So far, she'd succeeded: sure, they were all covered in mud and troll guts and sporting a multitude of bruises and strains, but no one had died, and they'd had no injuries that couldn't be fixed with a Band-Aid or a bit of tight wrapping. Personally, Sigrun considered that to be a very good sign.
It was nearly sunset when they came to the last spot they were assigned to clear, a small cottage in the middle of the wilderness, owned by some Old Worlder who'd apparently loved the solitude, back when loving solitude was still a safe thing to do. The walls were made of sturdy brick, the roof only just beginning to cave: not a crap building. There was a chance it might be a nest.
"Hans. Valda." Her best lieutenants stood up a bit straighter. "You're with me. And…" she scanned the cats, "…we'll take Loki too. The rest of you, wait out here."
Of course it turned out to be a nest. Of course. There were no trolls in the first room, but the moment they reached the door of the second Loki puffed up and hissed, and when they shone their torches inside of the doorway the light reflected off of countless eyes that were staring back at them.
It was not a big nest. Their tactic of choice was tried-and-true, and they'd done it so many times it came automatically: run back out the door, forcing the trolls to come out after them a few at a time so they'd be easy targets for the soldiers still waiting outside.
Nevertheless, the unexpected could always happen.
Sigrun had just turned to run, making the others had gotten out, when she saw a clawed hand shoot out at her from the corner of her eye. Immediately her knife flashed out, chopping the offending appendage from the hideous body it was attached to, but now there was another, and another, and she had to get to the door if she wanted to have any sort of fighting chance…
Loki streaked past her, hissing and spitting, to sink his claws directly into the eyes of one of her attackers. "Good cat!" she yelled as the troll reeled back, shrieking in pain. "Now let's get out of—"
The light was suddenly blocked as a rather large troll moved in between her and the door, and Sigrun let out a sigh of disappointment. Really?
Nevertheless she charged, aware that she was surrounded, yet not willing to give in without a fight.
The troll drew first blood, a claw biting into her cheek as she moved in for the kill. Sigrun drew last when her knife sank straight and true into its brain. Everything after that, however, was a blur, all gaping mouths, grabbing hands, the flashing of steel against rotting, corrupted flesh, and one very angry feline who sounded about as annoyed as she felt. This was not how Sigrun had wanted to end her last mission of the season, but she was starting to think that she might manage to win this after all when something got its claws on the collar of her uniform, and yanked her backward with such force that she was thrown off her feet. She fell backward, smashed shoulders-first into something that had far too many sharp edges, and finally came to a rest facedown on the dusty floor.
She was going to die staring at a bunch of paint splatters on half-rotted wood. A groan escaped her lips as she tried to work out how she was going to explain that one to her friends in Valhalla, assuming they even let her in at this point.
Then, however, from above her there came the sounds of a scuffle, and Sigrun recognized the voices of her teammates and the dying screams of a few trolls: she must have killed more than she'd thought. She did feel hot breath on her neck and get a whiff of rancid meat, but thrust her dagger up without looking, and was rewarded with a shriek of pain that was quickly cut short when one of her crew dispatched it for good.
The battle was followed by silence, the intense silence of people waiting to see whether something else was going to jump out at them, but there was no sign of further troll activity. Now that the fight was over Sigrun was finally beginning to feel her injuries; her cheek stung, her back would be covered with bruises, and the ache in her neck said that it wouldn't be a good idea to move until the medic got her butt in here and made sure she didn't end up paralyzed. So she continued to stare at the floor as she slowly lowered the hand that still gripped her dagger, wiped the blade on the side of her uniform, and re-sheathed it by feel. "Is everyone okay?"
"We're fine," Hans confirmed. "Minor injuries only."
"The building's clear?"
"We're sending the cats through now." Valda's voice came from her other side. Then: "Captain, are you okay?"
Well, 'okay' might be stretching it at this point. Sigrun settled for letting out a groan. "I think I need a vacation."
A/N: It is now my official headcanon that all of the cats in the Norwegian army are named after figures from Norse mythology.