Ga’s curiosity about the knocking had carried too far.

  Only after a long while did Ga realize just how far away the boys were—so far that their voices were gone, their footsteps swallowed by the trees.

  Lost.

  With no better choice, Ga kept following the sound, thinking that if it led to someone, maybe that someone could point the way back.

  Then—

  A whole line of crows swept low across the canopy.

  Their harsh, shrieking calls drowned out the knocking completely. Ga clapped hands over ears and crouched, flinching as shadow and noise rushed over.

  When the air finally settled, the forest went quiet again.

  And the knocking returned.

  Closer.

  Much closer.

  Ga lifted head slowly—

  and saw the source at arm’s length.

  A child? No.

  He was short—shorter than Ga—but he was not a child.

  Pale-skinned, thick-bearded—

  A dwarf.

  He stood at a workbench, hammering a fan-shaped shield. Beside him sat a small forge and a quenching trough, and scattered across the ground were tiny tools—bits and pieces like the leftovers of careful work.

  It looked like a craftsman’s corner forgotten by time.

  The dwarf seemed to feel Ga’s stare. His hammer stopped mid-air. He snapped his head up.

  Their eyes met.

  Ga fumbled for an apology—

  but the dwarf’s eyes widened even more. His mouth fell open. A trembling finger stabbed toward something behind Ga, and he spat out words that sounded almost like Viking speech—almost, but not quite.

  His voice scraped like shattered iron. The rhythm was wrong—inhuman. The sound didn’t merely enter Ga’s ears; it struck straight into Ga’s skull, as if a hammer were tapping on nerve.

  “—H?fue hyrr… draugr vakna……H?fj?t! H?fj?t! Valkyrja!”

  The syllables spread through Ga’s head like filthy water overflowing a cup. Ga winced and pressed palms to ears.

  The dwarf’s face twisted between terror and exhilaration, and Ga couldn’t understand which frightened him more—what he saw, or what he believed.

  Then a cold crawled up Ga’s back.

  As if someone were standing there.

  Ga started to turn—

  The dwarf moved first.

  Like yanking up a rug, he tore the ground open into a black hole, dropped into it, and it snapped shut again—seamless.

  Ga stood alone.

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  Ice ran through the body. Ga understood, with a clarity that made the throat tighten:

  There was something behind.

  And there was no choice but to turn and face it.

  A tall woman stood before Ga like a statue.

  Skin pale as bone. Armor carved with patterns that were not dead decoration—lines that flowed and shifted as if alive, like runes that breathed. This was not the work of human hands.

  She was three, four times taller than any person.

  Her presence was oppressive—solemn—like a sacred weight pressing down.

  Ga stared at a face that was beautiful and wrong.

  Ga knew it. In the animal cage—this was the woman who had stabbed Ga’s hand with a swan feather.

  A murky impression rose in Ga’s mind. It felt like an icy hand closed around the heart. The word that came to Ga’s lips was not a word Ga meant to say, and yet it spilled out anyway:

  “H?fj?t…”

  On a human tongue it sounded like Heyv-yot.

  The woman’s rigid expression cracked into a grin—sharp, delighted—like approval.

  In the next instant, her massive hands clamped around Ga’s waist and lifted Ga off the ground, drawing Ga closer and closer to a terrifying mouth lined with teeth.

  Ga kicked wildly, clawing at her fingers—useless.

  But even at the last moment, Ga refused to submit.

  Ga gathered strength and drove a small fist toward the woman’s forehead—

  “Ga-Ga! Finally found you!” Tallev shouted. “Holy shit! HAHAHA! Are you stuck in a tree? If you yelled, we would’ve come!”

  Reality snapped back.

  Ga’s fist was punching tree bark.

  Everything that had happened—forge, dwarf, woman—was gone, as if it had never existed at all. Ga was up in a tree, wedged between two branches, legs dangling. The tall woman was nowhere.

  Tallev climbed up with quick, careless ease. Without hesitation, Tallev grabbed the branch pinning Ga and snapped it off.

  Ga screamed and dropped. But Badji caught Ga solidly below.

  “We’re all filled up. We can head back,” Badji said, pointing to baskets packed with wild greens and fruit.

  “Yeah,” Sten added, looking at Tallev as Tallev hopped down from the tree. “And Tallev has to do all the chores.”

  “Hey! That’s not fair. Fruit up there is hard to pick,” Tallev pouted.

  “Then blame yourself for swinging around like a monkey and messing about.”

  “I had to. Otherwise it’s boring.”

  While Tallev argued with Sten and Badji, Ga’s eyes drifted sideways.

  A cracked furnace. A quenching trough. Rust-stained tools scattered across the ground, weeds growing through the gaps—as if the place had been sealed for a hundred years.

  “Looks like dwarves used to live here,” Sten said, noticing it too.

  “Hard to meet dwarves now. Don’t know why they always hide.”

  “Or they went extinct.”

  “I heard that a long time ago Vikings, dwarves, elves, and gods all lived together.”

  “But Ragnhild said she sees them all the time.”

  “Of course she does,” Badji said. “She’s a witch. They’d show themselves to her.”

  “Man, if I saw them, I’d grab one of those skulls in the plaza and use the toilet hay-paper...” Tallev started to say something stupid.

  “Get down!” Sten hissed suddenly.

  All four dropped into a crouch.

  From the trees ahead came voices—hostile, amused.

  “Pah! Brats. Don’t bother hiding. I know you’re here. Stop being pathetic and crawl out!”

  An adult Viking man.

  “Don’t stand up,” Sten whispered. “We back away slowly and...No! Tallev, What are you doing? damn it!”

  Sten tried to quietly lead them away, but Tallev couldn’t swallow the insult. Tallev stood up, fist clenched, and roared:

  “Who the hell are you calling pathetic? If you’ve got guts, come out here!”

  A low laugh answered.

  “Heh heh heh… stupid children.”

  Then the man stepped aside—

  and behind him surged two or three dozen adult Viking men, thick-bodied and heavily armed, shields raised, swords and axes glinting. Their killing intent pressed forward like heat.

  For a heartbeat, the difference in numbers felt hopeless—

  Then footsteps thundered behind Ga’s group.

  Two or three dozen Oslo Viking children poured in, forming up—wild-eyed, excited, furious.

  Lagertha was among them.

  “Thank the gods, Lagertha—you brought backup!” Tallev said brightly, slinging an arm around Lagertha’s neck.

  Lagertha gave a cold, satisfied laugh.

  “You’re lucky. I ran into them while I was resting under the cliff. So I brought them up. Didn’t think you idiots would be out here picking a fight with another tribe.”

  “Hasn’t started yet,” Sten said, craning neck to look past the children behind. “Are the older brothers and sisters coming too?”

  “Uh… I don’t know,” Lagertha admitted.

  The other children behind her shook their heads as well.

  Across from them, the adult Vikings noticed something—and their smiles sharpened.

  “So it’s all little ones,” one of them said, voice slick with threat. “Listen carefully. We’ve got war-spirits. Put down what you stole and run back to your dog-kennel.”

  “War-spirits, so what?” Tallev snapped back. “We don’t need mead to go berserk.”

  The adults scoffed.

  “Child berserkers don’t beat adult berserkers.”

  Lagertha fired back instantly. “Like you’d know, you old bastard!”

  The adult leader’s face darkened. “You want to die that badly? Solfki!”

  At the shout, the adult Vikings answered with a unified roar.

  It rolled like thunder. They hammered fists against shields—BOOM, BOOM—until the air itself seemed to tremble, and they began to advance in heavy, synchronized steps.

  “Don’t be scared!” Tallev yelled. “We go! Bru-tu-tu-tu!”

  Ga’s chest tightened.

  Tallev led the Oslo children forward, pounding shields as they pushed ahead. Their voices were young, but the rhythm was stubborn and hard—like a cluster of little mountain goats charging a bear pack..

  That childish defiance—it pulled at Ga’s legs. Before Ga could think, Ga stepped forward too.

  One step. Then another.

  Into the approaching wall of shield-sound.