Hunnan flinched each time she said it, but he kept his silence.
“Good choice,” she said. “I’d snap you like an old twig.”
She shouldered past him, calling out to the rest of the warriors. “Maybe you’re thinking that wasn’t fair. The battlefield isn’t fair, but I’ll grant you old Hunnan’s a few years past his best. So anyone thinks he can fill Gorm’s boots, I’ll fight him. I’ll fight any of you.” She swaggered in a circle, taking in each side of the square, staring the warriors in their eyes one after another.
Silence. Only the wind sighing across the beach.
“No one?” She snorted. “Look at you, sulking because you didn’t get a battle. There’ll be more battle than you know what to do with soon enough. I hear the High King gathers his warriors. Lowlanders, and Islanders, and Inglings. Thousands of them. There’s a storm coming, and Gettland will need every man. Every man and every woman. You three, come with me. We’ll be back in a month.” She lifted her arm to point at Hunnan. “And your boys better be ready.”
Thorn swung the stool up onto her shoulder and stalked from the square, off across the sand toward Thorlby. She didn’t look back.
But she heard the footsteps of the girls behind her.