In the smouldering ruins of the warg camp Erika breathed a happy sigh, the stink of blood, faeces and fear filled the air but to her, it smelt of victory!

Erika breathed in deeply then coughed and pounded at her chest, nobody said victory smelled nice. Still, it was satisfying, she had led a group of fighters in a successful skirmish and, for a no name girl from the edge of a no name city, that was a Hel of a thing!

The last few stragglers were being finished off by the rangers, their much longer legs letting them easily outpace the fleeing monsters, short swords and hatchets finishing them off with surgical blows. The veteran delvers meanwhile were moving steadily through the warg camp kicking apart crude structures, cutting down any survivors and throwing lit torches into the piles of flammable filth the wargs had lived in.

Ironically those torches were lit from the wargs own bonfire, the flame uncaringly eager to devour its erstwhile masters. The only thing the veterans weren’t burning was the loot, as they pulled apart the filthy hovels, they towed out chests of food, moss and lichen mostly but also some dried meat that Erika had examined and pronounced definitely not human, she actually wasn't sure what it was but once she declared it not people meat the veterans had carted the small box away back towards their exit point.

Apart from the food and their worthless stone weaponry the wargs only had a few shiny trinkets amongst their entire tribe. The tiny pile of raw ore and uncut gemstones was now being argued over but Erika could tell it was all in… well not good fun but at least all in line with expectations. Even as she watched two of the claimants shook hands and ran off, apparently, they had agreed to a kills competition for the loot and had both decided to follow the rangers to up their scores.

Really in the end only one person was complaining.

“This is it! How I finally die… remember me for my dashing good looks and incredible skill!”

Of course, he was complaining enough for a whole army, Erika was nearly sure Bjorn was just joking around… but maybe not.

“Hold still old man!” Snapped Erika as she tried to thread bone and sinew back together, knees were very very complex things and she couldn’t get much done with him flexing the damn ligament every few seconds. The art of a flesh smith was incredibly complex and multi-layered and, even without the damn poison, this couldn’t be a rush job.

“With terrible barbs the vitki lays me low… now I am doomed to die… to Hel’s Hall I shall go!”

Based on the snickering of the rangers Erika was reasonably sure that Bjorn did this every time he was mildly injured, only when mildly injured though, he’d barely made a sound when his hand got cut off.

“You should be damn grateful to this vitki,” Erika snapped. “Without my galdr bolstering your life force the venom would have stopped your heart! And now all I get is complaints!” With a sigh Erika finished a final seam and twist then sat back on her haunches and patted the already regrown skin back into its proper place. She’d healed his skin as the second thing she did just after she’d filtered out the wargs poison and decanted it into a glass vial. Despite already being through one person’s bloodstream the poison was still hissing and spitting with hatred, Erika planned to lob it into a corner after the left and let it die on cold stone.

“Oh, I am but… the pain!” Bjorn howled rolling back and forth, Erika noticed him testing his knee as he kicked the stone, trying more and more pressure even as he feigned a tantrum… a few moments later and he still hadn’t gotten up, just as Erika was wondering if it wasn't feigned at all she was distracted by a quiet *thunk* sound.

Someone had dropped a chest next to her, in fact after a moment she saw it was the chest of shiny stuff that the veterans had been arguing over. As the argument moved over to them Erika sighed and tried to block it out.

Bjorn was back on his feet and, despite his dramatics, strong as ever. Which meant they were ready to fight again if it came to it but… it probably wouldn’t?

“Did the rangers really not see anymore?” Erika asked.

Bjorn gestured for the others to shut up and nodded at her when they did so. “Yup, just this lot…”

Erika frowned deeply. “This isn't right, theirs way too few of them.”

Bjorn looked around at the carnage before nodding. “You’re right but… this place might have winnowed them?”

“Winnowed?” Erika asked, she wasn't familiar with delver terminology.

Bjorn just shrugged. “Fancy word I heard a scribe say, but like… if this place is dangerous then they’d lose wargs quickly, maybe even faster than wargs could spawn?”

“So, you think they’re prey here?”

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The veterans shifted nervously and Erika found herself eyeing the shadows but she stopped when Bjorn shook his head. “No no no way, if they were then why was there a full camp? Wargs are smart enough to lay traps and coordinate hunts, if they were being constantly eaten, they’d have fought back enough that they’d either all be dead or have won… it probably multiple sources of danger, other tribes, or creatures… but not enough to wipe them all out.”

Erika relaxed, fractionally. “So… they’re around the middle of the food chain?”

Bjorn looked puzzled and Erika realised he wasn't familiar with vitki life smith terminology. “I mean theirs bigger things than them as well as smaller weaker things?”

“Yeah yeah!” He said snapping his fingers. “A few shieldmaidens or a huscarl could carve through this pace but us… we’ll wan to watch our step a bit… if the bosses find us then its all fine of course.”

Erika nodded, she remembered what it was like when a pair of silvers went all out, back in Elkhorn, most people didn’t survive seeing silvers do that.

“So… any idea where we are?”

Now that the immediate danger was over Erika couldn’t stop herself from asking, from Bjorn’s sigh of relief she wasn't the only curious one.

“The only thing I can think is that we made it to our objective, where else in the Fimbulwinter would you find a huge structure like this?” He asked gesturing around.

Erika conceded his point, also just following the logic of sagas and ballads what was more likely, that they had been magically transported into the weird temple they were aiming for… or they had been magically transported into a completely unrelated huge stone structure that just happened to be nearby?

“Did Sigurn or Alvis ever tell you anything about it? Layout? Dangers? Its name?”

Erika was honestly shocked that Bjorn was asking her, then she remembered that she had probably spent more time with the silvers than any other single member of the expedition, as a vitki she was a social equal, technically within the jarl class thanks to their raw power even if they held no halls or huscarls.

“Uh… no.” She admitted, slightly shame faced. She hadn't been expecting to be separated from the living legends who were leading them! Sure, she’d debated about it with Tathra but when Alvis made it clear he wouldn’t be telling them she’d just treated it as an intellectual exercise, not planning some sort of battle.

“Boss we’ve finished up.”

Erika saw the man out of the corner of her eye but, again, it took her a few seconds to realise they were addressing her I need to adapt she thought grimly as she looked up at his eyes This is just embarrassing “Yes, good… got all the clean food?”

“Yes ma’am.” Despite being a wild bearded ranger, he stood as proud as a huscarl returning with honour to his thane, maybe he was in a way?

“Right, then I'm fed up of this place, let’s get back.”

It all went wrong at the worst moment, of course.

The twisting organic looking tunnels had been flooded by their numbers causing a press of people that inexorably slowed their passage, the rangers who had so carefully scouted were now injured and exhausted and, worst of all, had to all go first. The short climb up into the caravan’s cavern needed extra ropes set up in order to drag the loot chests away and the rangers were the lightest and fasters letting them nimbly scurry up the single current rope and the rough stone walls laying pitons and pulleys behind them.

With the rangers all busy in the ceiling the veterans would be, technically, acting as rear-guard. But having just fought a full battle they were exhausted. They’d been chasing down survivors, burning huts and looting rather than resting after the battle and now they’d been spurred back into a march this time carrying heavy chests and unwieldy boxes.

Erika had fall back towards the rear of the procession, even with her knew found authority she was still a young woman, just out of her teenage years, and she had always been slight and small. The veterans around here were each tall enough that their heads scrapped the tunnel roof and their shoulders so broad they had to squeeze them against the sides. Erika didn’t fancy trying to force her way through that press so she was staying back with the injured.

The worst had been Bjorn with Loki’s-venom in his veins but he was far from the only one, thrown spears and sharp rocks aren’t much to look at but they hurt just the same. Erika had been helping a man named Kal, weaving his skin and flesh back together, he’d been boasting about the fight and his part in it, claiming he would use the silver to pay back a debt he owed in town, maybe even leave the kingdom and travel south after the expedition. Erika had barely paid attention apart from politely humming a few vague acknowledgements.

Then she’d heard it a faint and distant *pop* sound, followed by a closer *Spang* noise that echoed in a metallic way, followed by a surprisingly light thudding noise.

Just next to them, set into the wall, was a short shaft of bone jutting outwards, one of the delvers had brushed up against it with their heavy treasure chest, moving it aside… Erika could see something metallic behind it, something it had… triggered.

Another set of noises echoed down the corridor, metallic and clashing, like a rain of arrows… Erika sighed and made an executive decision.

“RUN!” She howled as, behind her, the rhythmic popping of the traps began to grow louder and louder, coming closer and closer.

The chests were half way up now, slung on ropes and pulleys, and now covered in men. The delvers climbing over their loot, grabbing the strings and hauling themselves upwards, fingers digging into the loose rock of the walls.

Bjorn hurled himself forwards grabbing Erika as he did so, pulling the much lighter girl along with his one remaining hand he lowered his shoulder and slammed into the scrum before them, hurling the men like rag dolls.

A heart beat later Erika was on the ladder, scrambling upwards hand over hand, below her was Bjorn climbing steadily and, around them both, were the others. Anything they could grab they did as they swarmed like squirrels for the sky.

Erupting out of the fake-cairn back in the ice-cold cavern Erika skidded along the frosted floor, coming to a stop a whole spear-throw away. Men, women, treasure chests, shields, anything and everything that emerged was flung backwards away from the hole to make room for more escapees.

Then it was over, as quickly as it had started, the metallic rhythm died and the cacophony was silenced.

Erika let herself lay there, panting in the darkness, she was cold, tired, hungry and hadn't seen her lover in half a day… but she’d lead a successful mission, gotten some loot and nobody had died.

Erika decided to caulk this up as a win, levering herself up to her feet, groaning the whole way, Erika stumbled off towards the distant glow of their campfire, her bed beckoned.