The Night Crow

Ingrid backed away, knife up, while the swordsman fought to pull his weapon out of the tree it was stuck in. The tree groaned as he finally got it out, the base covered in sap that was wiped onto the ground. He was taking his time. No need to rush.

She was hopelessly over matched. One skinny 13 year old girl with a knife against a huge, muscled adult with a broadsword, in a Norwegian forest in the middle of winter.

They came to fighting again, for the last time. He shoved her against a tree with his brute strength, before breaking her arm. She screamed at the break of bone, hearing the crack as snow fell around her, indifferent, like the tree she was leaning on, too stunned by the agony do do anything as the man pushed her onto the ground. As his sword was raised above his head, ready to come down, she pushed herself away through the snowdrift as the wrapping around his face fell down to reveal a woman's face gazing down at her. She shoved one last time, dragging her injured arm.

And woke up.