<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FF0000"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">Freya Ostergaard</span><br/><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;">Valkyr of Oferta</span></span></span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/ccaf9432-fce0-46a6-9413-fe8e3154daee_zps4ea8bea9.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Freya saw the grin splitting Sir Felix face, when she had growled at him. He was cute when he grinned, but she would wipe that smile of his face. And she scolded herself in her mind. She wasn’t looking for a man and even if she would be, then she needed a real man with some fierce character and the roughness of the nordish people and not some baby-faced boy who just learned to ride.<br/><span style="color: #80FF00"><br/>“Ah, Freya, you wound me deeply.”</span><br/><br/>Freya gave him a warning look, that he better kept his mouth shut, if he wanted to smile tomorrow too with a mouth full of white teeth. But then she thought it over and she whirled around, her fist connecting with his belly, all the power of her lean warrior body in the punch. Felix doubled over, coughing on the ground.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">“Boy, if I want to wound you deeply, then I will do. Stop this flirting game with me. I am not interested in your likes and I am way too much for you to handle. Go out into the winterstorms with only a tent and your weapons and when you return the next spring, clad in some new wolfskin and with five or ten pounds more on your ribs – then you may be worthy enough for me. But actually you are only some spoiled noble boy, who had the luck that me and my people saved your ass, when you had been with the back to your castlewall. <br/>Don’t ever believe that it makes you equal to me or Thyra. You are nothing, boy. And least of all, you are not even a man yet. Father some bastards, make the girls tremble of fear and lust when they hear your name. Then you are a man, baby-face. Now get up, what are you, a whiny little girl?”</span><br/><br/>Freya gripped his arm hard and pulled him up. Felix cocky grin was nowhere to be seen now. Good, at least she got rid of that one. Swinging herself on her horse, she galloped through the narrow roads. If Felix wanted to follow, he better speed up. On the market-square she reined her horse in and looked around. There was some money in this town, but she still didn’t like the place at all. A young boy peeked out of a door and Freya gave him an angry look. The boy answered her with some nasty gesture and Freya’s hand moved fast. The throwing axe dug itself deep into the wood of the doorstock and the boy tumbled backwards crying for his mom. Satisfied Freya moved her horse over and recovered the axe, putting it back in her belt. Felix appeared at her side with an angry look on his face. Freya shrugged it off.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">“Shouldn’t the pathfinder be in front and not in the back of the troops? Come on, boy, you wanted to be with your Queen.”</span></div>