Chapter Eight

Later, after the evening meal, Brand managed to slip his friendly guard and sit on a bench outside the longhouse alone. Oh, he was sure someone was aware that he had left, and it would not be long before his reprieve would be over, but he would take what he could get. Though he had felt too closely controlled by his brother at home, he wasn't watched twenty-four-seven. Brand felt the weight of it like a heavy shroud over his shoulders.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the sharp night air appreciating the smells and sounds of the sea. His family had been land locked in Wyoming for centuries now, living in the middle of a large national forest area. He hadn't realized how much he had missed the ocean. The familiar, briny scent. The soothing sound of the waves hitting the shore. The occasional sea bird calling overhead. Ah, small things to be thankful for in this time he was stuck in.

"Don't react, Brandur the Destroyer." Every muscle tensed as he heard the whispered words behind him.