The Viking Decision
Battle-ragged steel spliced through another warrior’s skull, wetting the smattering of freshly fallen snow. Ulf whipped his sword back, throwing another line of red upon the earth. It was his thirtieth kill or so, though he wasn’t counting; only brash young warriors did that. At a certain point the kill count doesn’t matter anymore, just that you’ve survived as long as you have. The battle had been raging for just more than two hours now. Fewer and fewer opponents appeared through the smoke and mist of winter war. Good , Ulf felt, he could use the rest. Maybe it was time to walk off the battlefield whether it was over or not. It was difficult to know when a battle was over so who would blame him if he left now? I thought I’d killed everyone , he would excuse himself if he had to. Ulf’s broad, wolf-furred shoulders began to drop, a sign that he was losing his focus. No one came for him anyway. This likely meant his own brother was dead, killed in this very battle, f...