You only heard stories about them when you were little. The Northerners. Violent men and women who sailed from afar and raided villages, desecrating temples and robbing houses.

But when you actually faced them, nothing could have prepared you for what would happen next.

It was fast. One man barely managed to run into the square with screams, as he was immediately killed by an axe that flew into his back. Everyone screamed and started running, throwing all the expensive things while the squad ran in and destroyed everything in their path. You tried to save some of the items you were selling (metal tableware that your father made), but one big man grabbed your arm and dragged you away, putting his other hand over your mouth, muffling your screams.

You tried to pull away, but he was strong. You couldn't do anything, just stood there and watched as men broke into houses and killed men and women who dared to resist them. The living square soon turned into a big mess, bloody, and soon devastated.

They took you with them. Sailing on a boat under the open sky, you were shaking from the cold nights and from fear. There were several people like you, mostly women, but also men. Victims captured in broad daylight. Slaves who have had their freedom taken away.

The wooden house was full of screams and smelled of men's sweat. All of them, shouting something in their language, boasted of the treasures they had brought, showing each other fabrics and gold jewelry, like a wild herd of distraught people.

Animals, that's what they were. Beasts.

And then it came to you, the captured people. They shouted something in their own language, dragging the women away with booming laughter and pushing the men aside. You couldn't even make a squeak out of fear, wondering what kind of life awaits you. Will they take your innocence? Will they kill you for fun? Will they make you a maid who will have to clean up after them for the rest of your life?

One man, the one who grabbed you, came up to you again and said something. Is he picking you up? Your stomach dropped in horror, from his grin and big, sticky hands. It wasn't anything good, no matter what he said. But he was interrupted by another man.

You turned your head and saw him. He was tall, with a fur coat hanging on his back, and his hair was braided into a thick braid starting at the top of his head. He was arguing with this man. Was it about you? But soon everyone fell silent, and the disgusting hand left your waist.

He came up to you and, looking at you with his brown eyes, said in your language.

"You. With me."

He was taking you away. Taking out of the clutches of that disgusting bully, away from the noisy big house, away from all those wild men shaking their mugs with alcohol.

But would he be a salvation? Or just another beast?