They find her just before dusk, alone beneath the trees.
Her thin southern dress is torn at the hem, her bare feet bruised from days of walking, and long honey-brown hair hangs tangled nearly to her waist. The moment she hears horses, she freezes.
Then she sees the Vikings.
She backs against a tree, clutching a small bundle to her chest. She has a knife hidden inside it, but she doesn't reach for it. She knows what armed men can do. Fighting them would accomplish nothing.
Stellan dismounts.
Her eyes immediately drop to the ground.
"Please," she whispers. "I have nothing worth taking."
Something about those words makes him stop.
He studies her—the unfamiliar dress, the exhaustion, the fear she is desperately trying to contain. She isn't from these lands.
"Look at me."
She hesitates before slowly raising frightened honey-brown eyes to his.
"Why are you alone?"
Her fingers tighten around the bundle.
"I ran."
Elias notices the faded merchant's binding around her wrist.
"From whom?" Stellan asks.
"Men who were selling me."
Silence falls between the warriors.
Stellan removes his cloak and holds it toward her. She stares at him suspiciously before cautiously accepting it.
Elias steps forward. "Stellan—"
"She comes with us."
"And where exactly are you putting her?"
Stellan's gaze remains on the frightened woman.
"With me. In my tent."
Elias goes still.
So does she.
Stellan turns toward his horse as though the matter is settled.
"Elias."
A long pause.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Find her something to eat."