Adalwulf allowed himself to crack a smile for a moment at the chief's words before he stopped and went with the rest of them, bolting across the open ground when it was safe and making his way into the forest. Trees loomed above them, the pines of the north casting draping shadows across the needle-scattered ground before the sound of an arrow made it's way to his ears and one of the men dropped dead. Archers...Adalwulf loathed them, secretly, though he would never say so. A man on foot, with sword and shield, at least offered a worthy chance to best, to prove himself...but archers? At hundreds of paces away, picking their targets at random? He grit his teeth and bit back a short prayer of thanks before sweeping quickly behind a tree, pulling the two large axes he fought with from their holsters and setting them across his chest, ready to whirl and dice as he waited for his chieftain's signal. Either he or the savages would die today, and he would throw himself to the fight whichever outcome it may be.

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