[i]Healing House[/i]

[b]"I'll try."[/b] Wilfred murmured to Anndrais as he passed the monk, noticing the skill with which he wielded a bow. Thankfully the girl was slight, barely a burden in one arm let alone two for the giant Saxon as he pressed through the mayhem without apparent care for anything in his way. Between them the monk and Faolan kept the Draugr away from him but it was clear that more in the house were turning as they retreated and their escape route became more tenuous by the second.

[b]"Come, quickly. Lest we be trapped in here for good and afterwards."[/b] Wilfred growled over the noise just as one of the deceased looked up from the mangled corpse of their former loved one at Wilfred and his charge, a base hunger the only expression on their grisly face and dark eyes. The creature, for they could no longer be called human, leapt at him but the Saxon approached fearlessly and backhanded the deceased, his clenched fist nearly the size of its skull. Before it could regain any semblance of balance Wilfred wrapped his hand around its head, carefully avoiding the mouth as only moments before the pagan priest had called out his warning, and dragged the kick and struggling corpse to the door where a stouter log formed the frame. The Draugr's head split open like an egg shell after being smashed against the post thrice and Wilfred let the near-headless creature drop to the floor.

[b]"Out!"[/b] He called before he ducked out, making sure that Tora was secure and safe in his arms. A crowd was gathering outside, drawn by the screams and inhuman cries of hunger from inside the Healing House. Over their heads, Wilfred's immense size allowed him to see an approaching column of well-organised and armoured men, all carrying torches with a grim-looking Harald at their head.

[b]"The damn imp."[/b]

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Robbie stumbled, his wounded body not obeying him as he avoided combat but try as he might he simply could not keep up with the retreating party. More than once he had nearly fallen prey to the Draugr only to be rescued by an arrow sent from God Almighty, via Anndrais, or by a brief struggle which sent the creature off in search of weaker prey. A still smoldering log was in his hand, an effective weapon for bludgeoning the head of one of the undead which seemed to be the most effective manner to truly dispatch them.

He could ignore the cries of those around him, there was no help to be found here and every one of them had to fight for their own survival; but the cries of a helpless child who was unable to protect herself stopped the Pict in his limping retreat. Not understanding the language made little difference to him, the tone was enough to inform him, making Robbie turn back and grab the helpless child before their deceased parents could descend upon him and reunite them.

[b]"God Damned Devilspawn!"[/b] The Pict growled as he pounded at them with his makeshift club while retreating with the small child, no more than five years of age, clutched in one arm. [b]"First the Saxons and now Satan himself. No rest for wicked Pict."[/b]