Breda knelt over the pond, ax in hand, her shattered shield discarded. She felt weary to the bone, her muscles on fire and pain coursing through her as she fought for breath. Too tired to cry, she simply stared into the water, noting how it reflected the nighttime sky. Stars laced the calm surface, turning it into a glittering veil. She managed a smile that pained her more than she’d like to admit as she wondered if she could reach down and pull one out and keep it as a talisman.

Somewhere nearby a crow called, its raspy voice breaking the silence of the small wooden vale she’d taken refuge in. Another answered. Glancing towards the dark trees she took note of the shadows that swirled, looking as lost as she felt, among them. The shades of warriors. Brothers? Sisters? Those she had slain? Faceless, it was impossible to tell.

“I am so tired,” she breathed, fingers clutching into the grass with what little strength she had left as she turned her attention to the pool once more. Had she been able she’d have shed the reindeer hide and quilted cloth that had protected her in battle and tumbled in, letting the chill invigorate her enough to finish her journey home.

“Daughter.”

A voice, gentle yet demanding, drew her attention. Once again, the crows called out.  Too weary to rise, she surveyed the clearing slowly, and then the nighttime sky.

“Be at peace.”

Once more, the voice, laced with sorrow, drew her gaze downwards, towards the pool. A star, brighter than all the others, shone just beneath the surface, regarding her for a brief moment before winking out. Breda wondered, briefly, if she had imagined it and then her attention was drawn by a touch, so gentle that at first she had thought it the breeze playing through her tangled tresses.

“Let me help you.”

Another touch, just as gentle. Fingers deftly unbraiding her hair. She was suddenly aware of how she must look. How she smelled. Covered with dirt and sweat. Blood and human offal. The stink of war.

“So tired,” she managed.

“I know.”

She could hear, if not see, the smile in the woman’s words as she was undressed, her armor and garments peeled from her like skin from an apple, making her wince and, once or twice, call out in pain as linen, soaked with sweat and blood, was separated from her.

“I’m going to die,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question. Looking down over her wounds, she knew she would never make the trek home. She would be found, if indeed she was found, laying upon the bank.

“Yes. But not alone.”

A sense of relief flowed through her as she was laid bare. Clothes, jewelry, talismans and charms, all stripped away. Strangely, she didn’t feel the night air and only shivered at the intimacy of each touch. Soon, she was naked, her hair draped carefully over her shoulders.

"Can you stand?”

She managed a shrug, curiosity forcing her to twist her shoulders and head. The woman was neither young nor old. Her physique was that of a warrior. Toned and muscled. It was her eyes, however, that gave her an agelessness. Eyes that had seen so much. Too much, perhaps. Compassion dwelt within them. And sorrow. Endless sorrow. But there was a sense of peace as well.

“I’ll try?”

“I’ll help you. We’ll want to get the stench off.”

As she fought her way to her feet Breda heard the crows’ raucous voices once more.

“They can’t wait for me to die so they can feast, can they.”

She was met with a wry chuckle as one foot sank into the chill waters, forcing a gasp and sending small ripples across the surface, upsetting the stars spread across it.

“They have plenty else to feast on this night.”

Gazing into the woods once more, Breda noted the shades that wandered aimlessly amongst the birch trees, looking lost.

“So many,” she whispered.

The waters numbed her, thankfully. The pain of her wounds faded as she waded further, shyly watching as the nameless woman casually shed her own garments. Unlike Breda, she wore armor made of metal and chain. A metal helm lay on the grass at the water's edge along with a spear and shield.  Whoever she was, she was no simple peasant taking up arms against invading raiders.

“Who are you?” she wondered out loud, not expecting an answer. Nor did she get one.

The woman bathed her carefully. Despite her gentle ministrations, pain coursed through her, reminding her that she was mortally wounded. At least she would die free of the stink of death.

Satisfied that she was clean she was helped back onto the grass, naked and shivering, as she allowed her coarse blonde hair to be fashioned, once more, in a warrior’s braid, each touch strangely intimate, sensual even, until her shivers came from an inner heat.

A kiss followed. And then another. The first was a surprise, making her blush. The second awoke a hunger within her that surprised her as well. The third…

Something surged deep within her. Something raw and ancient  Passion.  A need that she had never had the chance to fulfill in her seventeen years. Her cheeks burned as lips pressed together, parting, leaving a doorway for a practiced tongue to explore. Fingers explored, hers tentative, her partner’s experienced, finding the places that made her whimper and moan, not with weariness and pain, but with unimaginable pleasures that had only been dreamed of during the darkest hours of night.

No words were said. None were needed. A warm wet mouth made its way down her bared throat to her breasts and swollen nipples, overwhelming her. And then, further, settling between her thighs and driving her to the brink of paradise. And then… beyond. She felt her spirit letting go as she rolled onto her back and took one last look at the stars above.