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Scandinavians were not only a problem for France. Over the last few generations, Danes had taken over more than half of an island called England.
    If Kannujaq had known anything at all about these Scandinavians, he would have been as terrified of them as the Europeans were. A tribe of them had already founded Russia. The Nordic kingdoms of Denmark and Norway were vying for supremacy. Scandinavians had already discovered Iceland, and completely dominated the Irish coastline. An exile called Eric had recently used Iceland to hop all the way across the ocean, founding a colony in a place he liked to think of as “Greenland.”
    Kannujaq would have been most startled to learn that these were the End Times. A Catholic church was telling all of its flock to expect judgment; for, by their calendar, it was 1000 AD.
    And their world was in the grip of the Viking.
    Kannujaq was regretting having taken this detour. It had led him away from the coast, and his dog team was having a rough time among the rocks.
    He sighed and started back down to his sled as a low howl began to make its way over the wind. In a moment, it was joined by another, thenseveral more, until there was a mad cacophony rising and falling among the hills.
    Not wolves
, he thought.
Tunit. Driving the caribou by imitating wolves
.
    The Tunit were hunting here. He tried to suppress the creeping nausea that ran through him at their howls, comforting himself with the thought that the Tunit—while immensely strong—were supposedly cowards, running whenever they saw real people. They might resemble humans, albeit shorter, more squat, but they were little more than beasts.
    Kannujaq decided not to bother them, slipping and sliding his way back down to where his dogs awaited.
    Soon the sled was again making its tortuous way back toward the coast, rushing ahead on the occasional patch of snow, sticking, rushing ahead, sticking again.
    Despite the tongues lolling from their heads with overexertion, Kannujaq began to notice that his dogs were growing excited, and it took him a moment to realize that this meant they were smelling a community ahead—a potential source of food. Kannujaq was fond of the idea as well.
    The timing was perfect, for a storm was moving in and the light snowfall interfered with his distance vision. Fortunately, the days were growing long, so there was still enough light for Kannujaq to spot twisting lines of smoke in the distance, where the ground levelled out.
    Kannujaq grinned as several figures came into sight. Camp dwellers. He began to urge his dogs forward, but paused. Something bothered him about this place.
    Where are the dogs?
he wondered.
    Then he spotted one loose dog out of the corner of his eye, and felt a bit better.
    Where is that thing running to?
he thought. It disappeared into the haze of thickening snowfall.
    He was startled by an odd noise, a thin cry. He turned back toward the approaching figures and realized they were running at him.
    There was no time to reach his bow. He could think only to fumble about for his spear. But the figures did not attack. Instead, they turned outto be a mixed group of Tunit men, women, and children, dark faces twisted up in fear. Some were carrying babies, awkwardly, in their arms. The men and women among them were marked by odd hairstyles. Both had great lengths of it twisted up tightly, but the men wore theirs in a peculiar ball atop their heads, while the women wore clusters over each temple. All they shared was their shabby, sooty tops, their bear-fur pants, and their short, squat frames.
    No wonder there are so few dogs here
, Kannujaq thought.
I’ve stumbled into a Tunit camp
. He, like his dogs, no doubt, had assumed that this was a human encampment. What a mistake. Now he would be ripped apart by Tunit.
    Yet the Tunit did not attack. They caught sight of Kannujaq and ground to a halt. Then they turned and ran in a different direction.
    Not attacking. Running. From what?
    Only