Read Catla and the Vikings for Free Online Page A

this part of the heath.”
    â€œAt Covehithe? I never saw them,” Catla said. “When did they come?”
    â€œAfter dark.”
    With that blunt statement, the discussion about smuggling seemed to be over, but Catla intended to ask more questions if they could ever think beyond Norsemen.
    As the sun climbed higher in the sky, her footsteps dragged and her leg pounded with short jabs of pain. She’d forgotten her walking stick at the stone circle but didn’t tell Sven about her injury for fear he might slow down. She dropped back and trudged after him, thinking of the dreadful stories she’d heard about the way captured women were treated. Her heart ached for her mother. What was happening back home? The elder bushes rose over her head and the path narrowed. She rounded a bend scarcely looking ahead and didn’t see Sven’s legs sprawled on the ground. She tripped and fell flat on top of him. A shock of pain ran the length of her leg. She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t yell.
    â€œSven, are you hurt?”
    He snorted out a laugh and rolled her off. “No. I tripped into this little rill. It’s so narrow and silent, I didn’t see it or hear it. Have a drink. It’s good. My beer has been gone for some time.”
    Catla flopped down and looked down into a shine of clear cool water almost hidden by long sedges on both sides. She put her mouth close to the water, scooped it up with both hands, drank and then filled her drinking horn. She doused her head and ran her wet hands over her neck and arms. She stayed bent over for an instant and caught a glimpse of herself. Her tangled hair was still red—funny that her eyebrows were darker. She stirred her image into ripples and sat up. Her skin tingled and her wet hair cooled her back.
    As she wrung some of the water from it, she scanned the bushes across the brook. “Blackberries!” They shouted in unison and leaped across the rivulet. Soon their mouths were jammed full. The thorns, sturdy and sharp, drew blood and plucked at their skin and clothing if their hands were too eager. The berries were purple-black with juice and as round as the knob on the top of Catla’s spindle at home. Occasionally a tart one puckered the insides of her mouth and her lips squeezed as tight as a purse string.
    Purple juice dripped down Sven’s lips and chin.
    Catla grinned at him, knowing she looked the same. Her tongue shriveled with the sweet, tart taste. She felt less hollow. The morning sun was warm. “I feel better,” she said. “Do you?”
    Sven grinned, showing purple teeth, and nodded. They walked on with renewed energy.
    When their shadows were about half the length they had been after their blackberry feast, Catla said, “Shouldn’t we be there by now? Are we close?”
    â€œI’ve never been this far, so I’m not sure where we are. Let’s just keep going.” Sven’s tone was abrupt and distracted.
    Catla felt the sting of his tone. She opened her mouth to tell him to keep his bad temper to himself, but said instead, “All right. You didn’t tell me you were lost!” She kept her voice light even though she was annoyed. “You needn’t growl at me. Maybe we should separate. I could go down closer toward the river and you could go farther inland, but toward the river too. We’ll meet later.” She’d show him she could make a plan, too, and look after herself. Did he think just because he was older that he was in charge?
    â€œOh, yes, that’s a fine idea.” Sarcasm dripped off his tongue. “Two of us alone up here and neither knowing where the other is or if we going in the same direction? What if there were more Norsemen? Oh yes, good idea.”
    â€œYou didn’t hear it all,” Catla shouted, “and don’t talk to me like that. It was a decent idea!”
    Sven stopped walking. “By the goat’s