Where do I go from here? In her short years she had lived a lifetime. One of the girls in the house invited her to a party across the way. It was some...place to be so they went. The summer night was warm when they walked to the front door.The house was full but what she saw was men, big men in jeans and biker cut-offs sitting and standing around the front door. They checked the girls out as they made their way inside. The front room opened up in to the rest of the small place where she could see. It was something she admired. She probably admired it the most because her father would insist that she spend her time around the most pompous of men. Half of them hadn’t known the feeling of a hard day’s work, and their hands were even softer than hers. The Vikings though, be as they may the enemy, looked weathered and strong. She remembered the feel of Ivar’s hands, his palm was rough and his fingers calloused. She had felt like she weighed nothing more than just a feather when he had dragged. More

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