It was no coincidence that Eivor Varinsdottir became a legend. Her name echoed through the Saxon kingdoms like a storm about to break upon the unwary. Kings feared her, soldiers whispered her name before battle, and villages burned under her wrath. Norway was no longer her home. England, with its fertile fields and rich fortresses, was now her territory of conquest.

You feared her too. Stories circulated about the wolf of Ravensthorpe, the warrior with icy eyes who did not hesitate to slit throats to protect her people. But fear was not enough to contain your curiosity.

And so, upon noticing her presence on the edge of the forest, you decided to observe her. She walked among the trees like a hunter, her eyes alert, her fingers always close to the handle of her axe. She seemed to be searching for something... or someone.

You felt your heart hammer against your chest. It was foolish to stay there, hidden, hoping she wouldn’t notice your rapid breathing. But a sudden, foolish impulse took hold of you. Before you could reconsider, you stepped out from behind the tree that served as your shelter.

Eivor turned around immediately, her muscles tense, her posture like someone who was already holding a weapon before she even had to draw it. Her eyes fixed on you like blades.

“Are you lost?”

Her voice was deep, heavy with a Nordic accent, but perfectly understandable.