[right][h2]Åse Ingolfsdatter [/h2][/right]
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Dried mud and blood flaked off of Åse‘s arms and body as she steered their vessel down river using her weight to maneuver the oar she managed. Taking a quick glance behind her, the young woman saw no signs of a pursuit behind them. Perhaps the Saxon’s decided to celebrate the victory of taking back Thetford rather than chase them completely out of their land. Åse had the mindset to call them fools, but she rather not curse their good luck. The enemy’s lack of the drive to hunt them allowed the Danes to escape, recover, and plan their next move before their enemy could decide it for them. The talk on the boat was a welcomed distraction as her arms worked to keep the boat in her control though it was not necessarily a taxing task as they moved with the current. Many spoke of retaliation as they were not accustomed to the taste of defeat, others spoke of their carelessness, and some did not speak at all, probably wrestling with their own opinions on what happened and what to do next. 

The young shield maiden had no such internal struggles, for she had already decided to move on from her life of battle. Feeling the boat settle nicely in the flow of the river along with the remaining ships of their division, Åse took the opportunity to relax next to her place by the steering oar and investigated herself. Save for some scratches and bruises, she had no serious injury to concern herself with and the blood that covered her body was not her own. Åse noticed that another had taken charge of Arne once he was shoved onto the boat and had made quick work of his injury. The arrow had since been removed from his shoulder, an endeavor that resulted in many curses towards the thankless healer, and a bandage now laid in it’s place. The man was expected to recover, though it is too soon to tell for certain.

The fourteen remaining ships of their division were slowly making their way back to Lynn, a decently sized river town that was conquered and inhabited prior to the Dane’s attempt on Thetford. It was there that Åse planned to stock up and head out to world’s unknown. They would reach the town before nightfall so the young women settled into the oar to rest, chuckling with the rest of their troupe as they joked about being to busy playing with themselves to pay attention to their surroundings. 

The shores at Lynn burst into life when their approach was discovered by their kin whom had occupied the town and took notice of their colors in the light of the setting sun. Many came to their aid, working to anchor their boats at the river’s edge and carry their wounded to tents were they could be tended to. Åse was glad for this as it meant she wasn’t needed for this labor and her mind could focus on other tasks. She was eager for a bath and a warm bed to sleep in but knew that a meeting amongst the lords on their next course of action was unavoidable given their current circumstances, a responsibility she inherited with the death of her beloved. It would be then that she would declare her intentions to take her vessel and leave, taking whomever wanted out of this venture. The rest would be dealt with in the morning she thought as the heaved herself over the boat and landed softly upon the sandy beach. 

Passing by Kjartan on the shore, she placed her right hand upon his left shoulder, squeezing it gently in greeting. She didn’t have a chance to say anything sooner to the man as they both had duties to attend to in order to get their people to safety here in Lynn. Åse thought to ask him to join her, but decided against the notion.

“If anything, I’ll see you in the morning Kjartan.” She said softly while releasing her grip on him.

Her weary legs carried her into the weathered town, trading the soft sand for moist grass that licked away at any mineral particles that stuck to her leather boots.