The longships appear down the hill, set row after row in the sand. A soft sea breeze rolls over me, and I close my eyes. The familiar sound of lapping waves fills me, and for a moment my mind drifts from the fire and screams. Yesterday I was so happy to finally set sail. I was going to become a warrior. A man. Just like Father and his father before him. But I don’t feel any different. Any better. There is a chill inside me, and I shiver. Maybe I really am a coward.

“Kasten,” Einer nudges my arm. “We need to get your wound tended to.”

I look down at the tear in my leather cuirass. In the commotion, I forgot someone nicked me with a spear. Strange though. It doesn’t hurt. “Alright.”

Warriors dot the beach, some with torches out, others brandishing axes and hammers. Most are older, those trusted with guarding the boats while the younger men raid. But several are around my age or even a bit older, deemed not ready for open combat yet. I catch Briar staring at me as we approach. He’s been out with the men a few times but hasn’t been allowed to take part in the fighting. A year my elder and yet I’ll be named warrior before him. That seemed so important when the sun rose this morning. Now I just absently stare back.

“Where are the others?” Gunnar asks, his wrinkled face a patchwork of scars.

“Feasting.” Einer nudges me toward the elder.

Gunnar clicks his tongue. “They should know better. Losing themselves like that. In my time—”

“Spare us another tale from the glory days,” Bear-sister Ryka says, approaching with a satchel thrown over one shoulder. She frowns when she sees me. “Little Kasten,” she says. “I thought I told you to be careful.”

“I was,” I mumble.

“Not careful enough.” She lowers the satchel and motions for me to come sit beside her.

“I’ll take that lad.” Gunnar points at my sword. I didn’t even realize I was still holding it.

Taking it, the elder smiles. “The blood of the enemy?” I nod. “And not taken from some corpse, I hope?” He glares at some of the other boys who’ve drifted closer.

“He still has much to learn,” Einer says. “But I trust that he wet his blade on the living. He is a man now.” He glares at me.

I small part of me wants to glare back, but Einer didn’t tell them about the boy or the old man. I will have to thank him later.

“Fire is really going now,” Gunnar says staring up the path. “Hope none of the loot burns.”

Watching the line of red on the horizon, Ryka has me remove my armor and long wool overshirt. She dabs something onto the wound, ground up blood leaf most likely. As she wraps the bandage around my ribs, I look down at her. “Bear-sister.”

“If you’re about to complain about it stinging then you shouldn’t have let them hit you.”

“No not that,” I say looking around to make sure no one else can hear me. “Is it…is it always like this?”

She tilts her head, a dark strand of braided hair falling across her face. “What do you mean?”

“Father used to tell me about his raids,” I say, the chill within me growing. “But he never talked about…” my mind trails to the streets filled with corpses, the gore drenched soil, the ash in the air.

“I used to go on raids, before I swore an oath to the Great Bear.” She squats with my shirt in her lap, then retrieves a needle and thread from her satchel. “Fought in probably a dozen of them before I realized it wasn’t for me.”

A flash of heat strikes my chest. “I’m not saying I didn’t like it,” I snap. “I was just curious.”

She looks me in the eyes. “Then to answer your question, no they aren’t all like this.”

I fight the urge to smile at such wonderful news.

“Some are worse.”

My heart dops like a stone.

“Some are so chaotic you can’t tell friend from foe, and you end up skewering one of your brothers.” She jabs with the needle in her hand. “And sometimes it’s your brothers that get slaughtered. Cut down young and old. And worse yet are the nights that leave you drenched in so much blood, you’ll never be clean. Not ever. Because Kasten,” Her eyes latch onto mine. “Memories don’t wash off. Here.” She thrusts the shirt into my hands.

“Thank you,” I say, admiring her quick stitching. “Please don’t tell the others what I asked.”

“You know I won’t.” She rises with a grunt. “But Kasten, there’s more to life than being a warrior. There’s no shame in following the Bear and not the Wolf.”

“If you’re a woman,” I say, the words slipping out before I can catch them.

Ryka’s brow furrows. “That may be true, but men join Mother Bear too. It might not be many, but there is honor in being a healer and caretaker.” She gives my dirty hair a ruffle. “In any case, you’ve got one more year to decide.” She smiles at me and for a moment I’m lost in the warmth of it.

Screams drag me back.

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“Over here!” Someone shouts down the shore.

“We’ve caught one!”

A group of the other boys are circled around something, jabbing at it, jumping back with fierce smiles on their faces.

“What’s going on!” Gunner and Einer push to the front, Einer’s great sword slung across one shoulder.

“Caught one of the rats coming for our boats,” Briar says.

Closer, I can make out the shape of a person thrashing in the sand.

“I didn’t come for no boats!” the shape rises. A boy, around my age, with tears streaming down his face. “I promise. I was just trying to get away!”

Einer sets his jaw, face grim. “What should be do with him?”

Gunnar chuckles. “Kill him of course.”

“No! Please!” The boy falls to his knees, hands reaching out, begging.

“On your feet!” Briar kicks him in the chest.

My heart pounds and a pit forms in my stomach. I find Ryka staring at me from just outside the circle, her face wreathed in shadow.

“I’ve got an idea!” Briar looks around, making sure all the attention is on him. “Let’s have a bit of fun.” He tosses his blade down at the sniveling boy’s feet. “A duel! How about it? Give this rat a chance to show his teeth.”

The other boys cheer.

“An excellent idea!” Gunnar chimes in. “Wolf-brother Einer, you are the senior warrior here. What do you say?”

Say no. This boy isn’t a threat. He’s just scared. Let him go.

Einer takes in the crowd, face tightened around a sneer. “I say fine.” He strides forward and the crowd parts, forming a wider circle. He stares down at the boy. “Pick it up.”

“I…I…” With a shaking hand, the boy grips the sword’s handle.

“No, hold a moment,” Briar walks into the circle, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “This wouldn’t be a proper duel. No, it’d be a slaughter. And while that’s fun, why don’t we have the newest warrior in the clan give it a go?”

I look around wondering who Briar is talking about. My throat tightens as I realize everyone is looking at me.

“There is no need for that,” Einer says glaring down at Briar.

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Gunnar says, striding up to Einer’s side. “Why not let the youth have some fun, eh old wolf?”

Einer locks eyes with me. Please don’t make me do it. Please.

A moment of silence settles in. The other boys look at me expectantly, some with admiration and others with disdain. Brair in particular is eyeing me up, a jealous glint in his amber eyes.

Einer’s deep sigh breaks the silence. “Very well. Kasten shall fight.”

Cheers. Then someone is handing me a sword.

“Didn’t get it clean yet, but that’s probably for the best!” Gunnar says, backing away from me, smiling ear to ear.

A man once visited the village in early summer, arriving just before a raid. He had these little men on string that he called puppets. I remember watching them jerk to life. The way they moved, their jerking limbs and empty eyes—it terrified me. But my body seems to move on its own now. I take to the circle, my legs moving as if commanded by another. The bloodstained blade held in my hands almost seems to hover, frozen in place by a body that isn’t mine. The boy across from me stares back with hollow eyes, the sword he wields held by stiff arms. We are two puppets, our strings held by the same puppeteer. And now one puppet must cut the strings of the other, for that is the way of the world.

I’ve killed two men already. Why do I hesitate? Why does my blood rush away from the battle and not toward it? Am I a coward? No. My body loosens, and I set my stance. This is our people's way. My way. I will not shame us with cowardice.

“What is your name boy?” Einer asks my opponent. “It’s customary for warriors in a duel to know each other’s names.”

“Why give this rat such honor?” Briar scoffs. “We should—” A hard glance from Einer shuts him up.

“My name is Alden,” the boy says, sucking back his tears.

Alden. So that is the name of the boy I’m about to kill. “And I am Kasten.”

He looks at me, eyes bloodshot. “Please…” he mumbles as if one final plea will save him. “Please.”

There is no getting out of this. Not for either of us. I tilt my head in a show of respect, hardening my heart for what's about to come.

Einer gives me a parting glance before he and the others step further back. Now it’s just me and Alden, the faces around us blurring.

Rubbing the wet from his face, Alden frowns and his features shift from despair to rage. He comes at me with a wild overhand strike. I parry it easily, then step out of range as Alden comes at me with a slash.

Cheers erupt as I dance around Adlen, deflecting blow after blow.

“Yeah, make him work for it!” Someone shouts.

“Give us a show!”

But I’m not trying to give them a show. I could have killed him three times by now. But each time I think about a counterattack, my body stalls. I can’t do it.

“You bastards!” Alden’s next attack is wild, but it catches my blade at an off angle, knocking me off balance. “You killed everyone!” His next strike clangs against my sword and my footing slips. “Die!”

As Alden’s sword comes down, the world seems to slow. Countless drills in Swordfather’s hall take over, and my body moves on its own. I widen my stance, feet finding purchase in the sand. I bring my blade up, knocking Alden’s blow wide. As he tries to regain his balance, the edge of my sword arcs around and slices his throat open from the front. Blood spews out, spraying my face, soaking my shirt through. Alden grasps the wound but it’s too deep. He falls to his side, eyes wide and wet. I want to look away, but when his eyes find mine, I remain frozen there, watching, listening to his life gurgle into the sand. After what feels like an eternity, his body jerks one last time, then lays still.

Briar plucks his sword from Alden’s grip, wiping the handle down with a cloth. “Congratulations, Kasten. You really are a man now.”

Cheers erupt and someone slaps me on the back. I’m jostled about but I still can’t take my eyes off Alden. Laying there, he looks so young, probably three or four summers behind me. But he at least died with a weapon in his hands, didn’t he? Isn’t that worth something?

Bear-sister Ryka crosses in front of me, blocking my view. “Kasten, I think it’s time for you to rest.” She pries the sword from my iron grip.

I follow her back to the boats, laughter and cheer still resounding behind me. With the fires in the village dying down, the stars have come out of hiding. They twinkle down, lighting the beach. At the water’s edge, I stare into the gentle tide.

“Kasten, we need to wash the blood off.” Ryka hands me a rag.

Tossing my shirt to the side, I lean down to the water.

“Ryka,” I say, wiping away the blood. “Are you sure there are nights worse than this?”