Free Melt by Robbi McCoy Page B

tent. There was a cold fire pit in the center of the floor, a smoke hole at the top, and an opening in the side to crawl in and out of. She wasn’t bound, but she’d already discovered the doorway was guarded. When she had tried to crawl out, a savage with a spear hollered at her and threatened to poke her. He had a round, brown face, dark brown eyes and straight black hair. He had opened his mouth wide and laughed at her in a thick, mocking tone. She had immediately withdrawn into the tent.
    She sat huddled against a wall on a musk ox skin, wondering what had happened to the rest of her family and kinsmen. She could hear the voices of the Skrælings throughout the day. Their language was gibberish to her. It barely sounded human. She heard the barking of the sled dogs and smelled food cooking. Hours went by during which nothing happened. She was hungry and thirsty and had no idea how long she had been sitting there.
    Finally she lay down on the thick fur and fell asleep. She woke to the sound of scuffling at the tent entrance. She bolted to a sitting position. The flap opened and a woman came in holding a bowl. She looked like a female version of the man Asa had encountered guarding the tent, brown-skinned and black-haired. She moved cautiously toward Asa, as if she were afraid of her, her dark eyes wary, and put the bowl down just out of reach. Then she grinned nervously and backed out.
    Famished, Asa reached out and took the bowl, sniffing. She tasted it. Boiled whale meat. Was this the whale they had stolen from her village? She hesitated before taking a piece of the oily meat between her fingers and putting it on her tongue. She thought maybe she shouldn’t eat. Maybe she should let herself starve to death. She didn’t know what these horrible savages had in mind for her, but she knew there were limited possibilities. She would either be killed, enslaved or be forced to be some brute’s mistress. That would be worse than death.
    She had been taken as a prize of battle, she assumed, like the whale and whatever else they had found interesting. It was the way of war, as she had heard in tales of Viking raids on other lands. They raped the women, killed the men, enslaved some of the survivors, took their possessions and burned their villages, leaving total destruction behind. Had the Skrælings done the same to her village, she wondered, remembering the smoke from the burning chapel.
    When she had first been led through the camp to her prison, everyone had stared in amazement, men and women alike. She had shrunk back ineffectually when a brash young man approached and touched her hair as if he had no idea what it was. Then he had jumped back, whooping like he had felt something wondrous. This had been her first close-up look at these people. She wasn’t sure they were people. They were not people of God, that much was certain. For the first time in a long time, Asa prayed with a sincerity she had forgotten.
    She hoped she would be killed quickly. That’s what she prayed for. But if they were going to kill her, what were they waiting for? And why were they feeding her? For that matter, why had they brought her here at all? They could have killed her back in her village. More likely they were going to torment her in unspeakable ways. She would have to kill herself, she decided.
    Movement at the tent entrance drew her attention. The same woman, crawling in on her hands and knees, peered in, pushing a ball of fur through the opening ahead of her. The ball rolled over and revealed a face. Asa sat up and gasped, transfixed by the familiar bright blue eyes and blonde curls. That little pink face was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
    “Mama!” Gudny cried.
    They clung to one another with tears and kisses while the brown-faced woman rocked on her ankles across the room, smiling benignly.
    “My baby! My baby!” Asa said over and over, holding Gudny tight against her chest.
    They must have taken her from the house