(Evening, outside of Trelleborg)

The draugr seemed to melt out of the trees, shambling in the icy rain toward the warm living beings that stood on the trail near the river. Einnar cursed under his breath for not posting a guard, that he had allowed the men to huddle in a bunch to stay out of the weather. He was unused to commanding a group and normally only had himself to look after. He drew back on his bow, firing an arrow at an approaching draugr, hitting it in the neck. The shot would have dropped a living man but it hardly made the creature flinch as it lurched forward. 

The young trapper pulled his bow and his father held out a spear, as his eyesight had faded to where he could not use the ranged weapon anymore. They followed Einnar’s command and attacked. Arrows rained down at the draugr but it did little to impede their progress. The younger trapper managed to hit one through the eye and the creature dropped to it’s knees, collapsing in the mud. His father slashed the neck of another and it grabbed the shaft of the spear, hauling itsself towards the older man. He managed to get away from it as it clawed at him but lost his spear in the process. His son shot another arrow at it, hitting it in the forehead and it stumbled to the ground. 

“We’re wasting arrows,” Einnar growled as they backed up, drawing back another arrow, targeting a draugr that looked vaguely familiar. The thing that looked like a fisherman who had a distinctive scar and a missing ear from a drunken brawl. 

His squinted in the cold misting rain, “Aim for their faces.”

Vigi’s heart was beating rapidly inside of his chest as he tried to push the walking corpses back. He called upon the long buried memories of combat practice when he was young to help him.

“We can’t kill all of them!” Vigi grunted, driving his spear into the head of a draugr that lunged at him. “We have to cross the river!”

“Do you see any bloody way to cross it!?” The older trapper shouted at him.

“We have to go through the water!”

“You’re mad!”

“It’s either that or be eaten alive by these demons!” Vigi said, backing up to the river and entering into the water. The near freezing water instantly chilled his feet to their very bones, but he ignored the needle like pain of the cold to more further into the water.

Einnar nocked another arrow, covering the hesitant retreat to the river’s edge. He could feel his bowstring starting to become slack in the rain. His arrow lacked the punch it should have when he released it, clattering into a tree trunk harmlessly. The draugr howled and gnashed their teeth, the one that looked like the scarred fisherman lunged at him and Einnar struck him across the face with his bow before turning to run toward the rest. 

“Do it, cross the river!” he shouted at them, sliding in the mud as he went down the embankment, “There’s too many...shit.”

He felt his ankle turn, a sharp pain shooting up his leg. He stumbled and limped down to the water, plunging into the river. He waded forward, holding his bow above his head until he was thigh deep in the swift moving current.

“Freya’s cunt!” He shouted as the cold hit him and he grit his teeth. “Those things better not be able to swim.” 

Vigi hung toward the back of the group in case anyone needed help, the others were trudging through the water as best they could. The current was fast and the water colder than an ice giants heart but they dug their feet into the sand and rocks to make their way through.

The draugr followed them without hesitation, but when they got up to thigh deep water they started to stumble and falter. The current was too great for their rotting limbs and one of them even fell, being swept away quickly by the raging river.

Einnar sucked in a breath, the cold searing into him like knives of ice and it felt as if his balls had jumped into his stomach. The party trudged across the river, the two trappers bringing up the rear. Once across they could see a few draugr left on the shore but most had been carried away. They paced back and forth but made no move to cross. The hunter picked up his bow, looking wearily at the soaked string that rendered it useless. 

"Let's get some shelter, we need a fire and to try out or we won't make it back ourselves," he said, heading toward a mixed stand of pine and beech trees. 

The younger trapper crouched and pulled some of the branches out from beneath the pines. His teeth chattering he said, "There is always dry kindling under the pine tree."

He snapped a few more branches free and began to build a fire as the others shivered. Einnar moved around despite the pain in his ankle, debating whether or not to take his wet pants off. While he stalked around he noticed the older trapper gripping his arm. 

"You...what is your name again? What is with your arm?" he asked, squatting down. 

The man's face was pale and drawn under his greying beard, "Ulfr, and nothing's wrong with my arm. Just pulled it when I threw the spear."

He cast his glance away from the hunter's gaze and at the fire pit his son was building. 

"Vigi, could you come look at it?" Einnar asked after a pause. He was not good with people, but even he could see the old man was reluctant to tell the truth. 

His son struck his flint iron and sparked a flame, blowing on it to give it life. "Father, if you have been hurt, let the seidrmadr tend to it." 

Ulfr frowned and snapped at him, "I said I'm fine, I'm not an old woman needing to be coddled. Go back to your firemaking, Leifr."

Vigi approached the stubborn man, willing to take any distraction from the cold he could get. "If you're injured, show me." Vigi demanded, giving him a look that showed he would not allow any argument. 

Ulfr looked away from him, clearly trying to ignore him but Vigi did not waver in his gaze. "Freya's tit." He grumbled, moving his hand aside to reveal the large bloody wound on his arm. "One of the demons took a bite out of me." He said in a low voice so his son would not hear him. "Say nothing of it, I don't need my boy nagging me over it."

Vigi nodded in understanding. "I'll work quickly then." He said, moving aside his soaking coat to dig out the sopping wet bandages from his bag.