In the rush, Wilfred had fallen far behind the Norse warriors even without any armour weighing down his steps. Months on little food to sustain himself while being cramped behind an oar or tied down to a deck had drained him of all his God-given stamina, at least where jogging was concerned it would seem. It was only as he slowed to a stop, looking around for any sign of where he would be best placed to help, that he felt the pain from Harald's last gift. Now that the Healing House was nothing but charred timbers and ashes recovery would come ever more slowly for his injuries. Images of Robbie's wound flooded his memory but the huge Saxon pushed them out of his mind; he could hear the sounds of Draugr and their victims all around him and pining after a damned Pict would only get him killed.

Hefting his woodcutter's axe, Wilfred stood in the centre of the pathway, well away from any shadows where one of the satan-spawn might creep up on him. Slow crunching in the snow close by had him whirl around, axe poised for a crushing blow, and if it were not for the stabbing pain in his back he may have swung the weapon before he even saw those approaching. The girl he recognised instantly with a flash of fury, leaning on one he remembered as another of the Ragnars' slaves.

[b]"It's not Christian to sneak up on an injured man like that."[/b] Wilfred muttered as he approached them, axe lowered enough to not be threatening. [b]"Where are you headed? An extra blade might be of use to you, what with these creatures seemingly in every damn shadow."[/b] He grestured to where a corpse lay still near a pile of barrels, a spear still stuck fast through the left eye socket to pin the entire creature against the wall. Whether it was actually dead for good or not was something Wilfred had no intention of finding out; if it was stuck in place then dead or alive it was no threat to them.

[b]"I can take her if it will speed our passing, you look to be in better shape to be fighting these beasts anyway, if we come upon any."[/b]

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Harald watched with disdain as his men dragged corpses out from another infested house, some of them half torn to pieces by the Draugr. He nodded and two of his largest men wielding blacksmith hammers set about crushing the corpses' heads, just to be sure. One of the corpses moved slightly but was swiftly held down by nearby men.

[b]"I'm not Draugr! Please, believe me! Thegn Harald, please, let me prove I am not bitten."[/b] Harald waved his hand in boredom and the two men cut short the man's pleas with a succession of blows to his cranium. Other armed men were beheading nearby corpses, moving from house to house and removing all inside, none of the few and fortunate survivors making it past the entrance to their own homes. The street was littered with bodies but Harald's slaves were moving most of the corpses from the organised piles back into homes, especially the mauled ones, to disguise the slaughter being inflicted.

[b]"This house has no dead or wounded, my Thegn."[/b] Harald turned and gestured wide with his arms to the nervous family herded before him. He greeted them with a wide smile, intended as a comfort.

[b]"You are lucky to have survived this ordeal. The Gods must favour you. Come, my men will show you to my longhouse where it is safe until this is all past us. Make sure they have something warm to sustain them until they can return."[/b] He ordered one of the slaves who bowed, scuttling back towards the longhouse ahead of the fortunate family. Harald turned away from them, his false mask dropping back into a scowl as he returned to the grueling work of overseeing the sorting of those who were safe to live, and those who were not.