Hallerna fought every last urge she ever had, to keep her axe lowered, to keep from beating that infuriating grin from Harald's face. Her righteous fury took her far beyond worrying what this [i]nithskald[/i] might do, whatever retribution he or his men might take. Not when in her mind’s eye, she rained repeated blows with the haft of her axe in his smug face, until blood and teeth spattered the mud and snow scarlet and ivory. Oh yes, [i]that[/i] would be a reaction both entirely fair and eminently satisfying.

But any furious retort that might have formed on Hallerna's lips, any justifiable urge to strike the false thegn as he so richly deserved, was washed away like foul mud in clean rain water when the kindly monk Anndrais – Orran’s companion, the man who was such a comfort to poor Tora – emerged with the little child she would have sworn was dead. 

Vigi’s call sent her sprinting to the little girl, a mother’s instincts snapping instantly into place as she dropped beside that small, moaning body. She could not have seen any more than six summers, perhaps even less, just a slight little thing all buried beneath snarled lengths of dark brown hair. The black soot and pain on her thin pale face made those wide, frightened doe eyes seem larger still. 

The furious snarl she had for Harald melted as if it had never been, giving way to a gentle, comforting smile. As she knelt beside her, Hallerna looked over the girl as carefully as the seidrmadr had, but this time looking for ragged black edges of the cloth of her dress, and angry pink flesh and blisters. All the while, she spoke in the softest whisper to the child, taking special care to find and note her injuries. 

[b]“Hello sweetling,” [/b]she said with a genuine tenderness, carefully brushing all that dark hair from the little girl’s face, and then hiding the sympathetic wince when she found a swelling red welt, running from the hairline at the girl’s right temple to her jaw. [b]“I’m Hallerna… I just want to see where you’re hurt… “[/b]

It was not a difficult process really, to see where the flames had done their worst. If Hallerna had to guess, the child was likely thrown into a flaming, fallen beam while still agile enough to pull herself away. Red, hot flesh trailed in a more or less straight line down the right side of her face, with another streak of burn from shoulder to elbow, and then knee to ankle. Small blisters were already starting to rise.

[b]“You are a very brave little girl. Why, there are warriors who could not be so strong!”[/b] Hallerna knew very well much of the girl’s silence was born of trauma: her parents’ death, her escape from the draugr with that poor Pict thrall, and then being hurled back into the flames once more. Still, the older woman’s words of praise managed to earn just the faintest of smiles, though the girl’s wide, dark eyes spoke volumes of her true pain and fear. 

[b]“What is your name, sweetling?”[/b] 

[b]“Una.”[/b] Those two syllables came out not much more than a whisper, but it was enough.

[b]“That is a [i]beautiful[/i] name, Una. I’m going to wrap your hurts… “[/b]

Hallerna’s head twisted over her shoulder, waving for Svala to join her. Her eyes swept over the well-assembled men, come to bring some semblance of order to the chaos Harald’s unwelcome arrival caused. A wide smile brightened her face when she realized the tall man beneath the helm and aventail, with his great height and that grand beard, could only be the housekarl Loker, the man who made near as much an impression on Eyja as Orran had, and who generously offered all that was left of her family sanctuary in the Hall. His appearance could only mean that Eyja and Raudr had made it safely to the Hall as well, and Hallerna indulged in a sigh of genuine relief.

For the first time in this endless morning, Hallerna felt a measure of peace. She nodded a small, silent greeting to Loker, though she knew very well he would like not see, his attentions wrapped up in matters far more urgent. 

Hallerna tried not to seem impatient as Svala approached hesitantly, turning back a few times to the line of men and shields standing with Thegn Ragnar and Loker. Oh, she knew her daughter’s concern was for Ragnar’s man who’d been beaten so badly. But he had already risen to join the shield wall, and Hallerna needed her now.

For her part, Svala stepped back as Haakon began to stand, however unsteady he seemed. Even if she were a farmer’s daughter, the young woman knew it would be unseemly for her to protest a raider joining the shield wall - as if she had the least right to do so anyway. And so she joined her mother - perhaps not as swiftly as she ought, true enough - though her sense of urgency was kindled the moment she saw the little girl.

[b]“Una, this is Svala,”[/b] Hallerna explained patiently when her daughter finally arrived. [b]“Svala, I need you to get into our packs. I don’t know how many bandages the seidrmadr or the monk Anndrais might yet have, what with the rest of the rest of the bleeding and injured. Obviously the healing house and its supplies are a complete loss. Bring one of my shifts – “[/b]

Hallerna held one hand to Svala as she made to protest. [b]“No, I know. Just do it. There’s no help for it. There’s my girl… “[/b]