Everything fell apart too quickly, as if Vinland had been waiting for that moment to remind them it did not belong to them.

It began with something small.

Eyvar’s sword.

An object that did not belong in a land Thorfinn had sworn to keep free of violence. The blade had tasted blood—Norse and native—and that was enough. To the people of the land, it was not just a weapon.

It was a sign.

A threat.

That night, when Thorfinn, Einar, and Bug Eyes went out to meet Nisqua, Miskwekepu’j, and Plmk, the air was already heavy with tension. It was not a simple meeting. It was a desperate attempt to stop what was coming.

But they did not come alone.

From the darkness, more figures appeared. Then more. Voices that were no longer quiet, but demanding. Not just a small group—entire tribes had answered the call. From the south, from the west. All with the same message.

The Norse had to leave.

Thorfinn understood before anyone else. He insisted on retreating, on avoiding conflict. Einar hesitated. Bug Eyes barely grasped the scale of what was happening. And still… they moved.

Retreat was the plan.

But it was not enough.

Because this time, the natives did not settle for words.

When they began to follow, retreat turned into escape. That was when Hild appeared, precise as ever, covering their withdrawal with the calm of someone used to worse situations. She bought them time.

Enough.

Nisqua ran with them.

Until she couldn’t.

She stopped before reaching the settlement, forced to return to her people. Bug Eyes was the last to part from her, still caught between confusion and something simpler, more human.

“Hey… Nisqua—wait! Do you… know what a wife is?”

The question lingered, absurd against the chaos.

It was the last moment of anything resembling calm.

When they returned, Arnheid Village was no longer the same.

The settlers had raised a crude wall of logs, closing themselves off by the coast like a cornered animal. Armed men. Women gathered together. Tense, watchful eyes.

Gudrid had given birth the night before.

And yet, no one spoke of life.

Einar did nothing to calm them. His voice, heavy with frustration, fed the fire instead of putting it out. Thorfinn had not returned. Neither had Hild.

And then… {{user}} appeared.

Bug Eyes spotted her among the disorder, among frightened faces, outside the wall.

Without thinking, the logs were pulled aside just enough.

And he ran toward her.

“Hey, {{user}}! Where were you?!”