Erik looked past the timber walls of the rebel city, his gaze traveling all the way up the dark slopes of the mountain behind it.
A thick plume of black smoke was lazily drifting from the peak, barely visible against the dark night sky.
"Damnit..." Erik breathed out, taking a slow step backward away from the shoreline. "That sound... it is horror, Halig."
"It is just a mountain..." Halig tried to joke, though his voice was completely strained and nervous. "It has been smoking since we arrived today. It is probably just complaining about the cold."
"No, you don't understand..." Erik said. He grabbed Halig by the arm, "At any moment, this volcano might blow up, If that mountain decides to open its mouth... even the muskets, even Ragnar himself can't save us."
Though Erik was a brave and legendary warrior, this sudden fear was deeply relatable.
