[CHAPTER NINE]

Sloane woke up in her shelter. Her shoulder and neck ached and something heavy was across her torso. She rubbed her eyes and sat up weakly. Regal was laying on the ground next to her, neck and head stretched across her body. She pushed him aside as gently as she could, he still grumbled and snorted at the disturbance, and pulled the neck of her thermal underwear to the side to examine her shoulder. The bruise was distinctly teeth shaped. Specifically horse teeth. Regal must have bitten her to drag her back to the shelter. She knew he was a smart horse, and was grateful for it now.

With shaking hands she added fuel to the stove, then unequipped the wet clothing and swapped to a dry set. She would have to go get her clothes from outside. Sloane halted and looked at her hands and arms, a distinct green glow shrouded them. It faded away after a few minutes, Sloane examined her hands closely. No signs of the burns remained. Intense relief washed over her, because if the burns had remained she would have lost her ability to use the bow.

Sloane pushed the shelter door open. The sun was going down, she would have to be quick to retrieve her gear. She rushed along the path, this set of clothing was thinner than what she had been wearing this morning. The air seemed to cling to her rather than flowing past as she moved. It took her longer than she would have liked but she managed to collect all of her equipment and even managed to retrieve the fish she had caught. It was frozen solid, and she had no idea how to clean it in that state. But in her inventory it would remain frozen until she brought it out again.

Gratefully she returned to the shelter and collapsed within. Regal snorted at her disapprovingly and stomped a foot. Sloane rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself up to her knees. She reached out and stroked Regal's nose. She had become very fond of the horse, and was reassured that he was also fond of her. 

"I'm going to eat," she told the horse, "and when I'm positive I wont die of hypothermia I will go to sleep. How does that sound?"

Regal snorted and butted his head against her chest. She smiled and rubbed his cheek.

The next morning.

Sloane woke early, but decided to stay in the cozy comfort of her sleeping bag as long as possible. Which was only until Regal decided she had slept enough and it was time to give him breakfast. Sloane slipped on her boots and began her morning routine of heating water, and feeding Regal a breakfast of mixed grains and a feed net of hay. 

It was a comfort to sip the hot liquid before deciding whether she wanted to dig out a dehydrated ration, or jerky, or a different dehydrated ration. She settled on a dehydrated ration and sat near the stove, feeding it some more sticks. After she finished eating she sent Regal out so she could clean up.

She had tossed out the old straw, and hung up her sleeping bag to air out. She was about to reenter the shelter when a sound grabbed her attention. She spun on her heel, all senses alert, eyes scanning the surroundings, ears straining for further clues. Then she saw it.

The barrier was down.

Sloane let the tarp door drop and walked cautiously toward the village. The snow crunched beneath her feet obliterating all sound except the beating of her own heart. She had no idea what she was walking into, but she knew she needed to make them understand what had happened and that the travelers were their only hope of long term survival in this dimension.

When Sloane approached the village there was already quite a crowd in the village center. Sharp looks and stern faces were everywhere she looked, probing her face for signs of intent. The crowd parted and she fought to remain calm as she walked the narrow lane. The smell of mud, sweat, leather and fur filled her nose. Murmuring voices, squelching mud, and the rattle of sheathed weapons filled her ears.

"Welcome to Steinnthorpe," a tall man with broad shoulders and a neatly trimmed gray beard greeted Sloane, "what is your purpose here?"

"Greetings," Sloane bowed slightly, she felt awkward with so many eyes on her, "I am Sloane, I've come here to assist and explain what has happened here to the best of my abilities." She studied the man's wrinkled face. His blue eyes were frosty and stern as he appraised her.

"I am Toke, leader of this village. Tell me, how is it that our village has been moved across midgard?"

Sloane studied his face; the village had spawned here nearly two weeks ago. There must have been much unrest and fear in the village. The fact that he remained as leader was a testament to his people's trust and his leadership skills. "This is not midgard," she replied simply, a shocked murmur flashed across the crowd, "or any other realm you know of. This realm is newly formed by the standards of its creators, and ancient by our own standards. I do not know why your home was pulled here, but I do know that you cannot return. I am a traveler, I was also called from my world, but my task is to assist and protect the inhabitants of this place. I've not been in this realm long, but I will do all in my power to assist you."

"Help?" a nasal male voice rose above the crowd, "assist?! What meaning does this have? You have called us here! You have come to conquer this village!"

The man stumbled forward, shoving people aside as he plowed through the audience. The reek of alcohol reached Sloane before the man did. He came close, and bent down to be eye level with her.

"If I wished any of you harm I would not have plunged into a frozen river to save one of your children."

"Bah," he spat and rocked unsteadily. "A trick to lower our guards."

Sloane sighed and ran her left hand through her hair. "Please step back," she turned her face away, "you reek of alcohol and piss."

"Sig." Toke's tone was sharp, "Step back."

"Why?" Sig challenged, "she is a threat. We should get rid of her to warn others away."

"I am unarmed," Sloane responded flatly, holding her arms out and turning to show she didn't have any hidden weapons. "I am here to talk and educate, not to fight. But, if you want to attack me I will defend myself. I recommend you don't."

Sig swung, Sloane sidestepped, turning her body, and let him pass by. She looked to Toke, "Shall I sober him up?"

Toke nodded, his face revealed a tiredness that went beyond lack of sleep. With impassive eyes he watched as Sig picked himself up and took another swing. He had drawn a dagger from his belt.

Drunk as he was, he still managed to strike accurately. Unfortunately for him.

Sloane caught his wrist, trapping his arm, she stepped close and pushed him off balance. A flash of light and a sharp crackle. Sig collapsed to the ground unconscious.

Excitement rippled through the crowd. Sloane caught the words, "Thor's daughter," repeated several times. The crowd moved away slightly, opening the space around Sloane and Toke.

"Why did you not say you were a daughter of Thor?" Toke spoke in admiration, excitement and fear in his eyes.

Sloane sighed. She had a lot of explaining to do.