A young Viking woman, her body covered in bruises, is on the floor, screaming and fighting off her massive Viking husband as he beats her. Outside, it is dark and cold; freezing rain slicks the ground.
As he winds up a blow, she pivots sharply and moves aside. His fist slams into the floor, leaving a dent. His knuckles bloody, he bellows, "Bitch!" and strikes her across the face.
She spits blood into his face, pulls a knife from beneath a rug, and plunges it into his chest. The man smiles, leans in, and like a loaded racket, slams his forehead into hers. The woman is knocked unconscious and collapses to the ground.
The man looks at her with contempt and spits blood. Nearby, a small child is crying.
He pulls the knife out of his chest. Looking at her, the muscular Viking with a bull-like neck smirks: "Are you even capable of anything?"
A little girl, tears in her eyes, stands in front of her mother, shielding her with her body. The father spits blood on the ground. He approaches the place where a baby is sleeping and holds the knife to the infant's throat.
The girl remains in her protective stance, breathing heavily, fists clenched. Her eyes have become like those of a predator. A smile appears on the man's face.
"She takes after me."
He flings the knife into the wall; the blade whistles over the girl's head, clipping a few hairs. The man turns his back on the girl and begins walking into another room.
The girl clings to her mother, trying to help her. Several hours later, she falls asleep right on top of her mother, hugging her and crying. When she wakes up, her mother is gone. Beneath her is only a pool of blood. Touching her own forehead, she feels a wound from which blood still flows. Her hands begin to tremble, her heart pounds wildly; she feels dizzy, her vision narrowing. It is night outside.
Her brother is sleeping peacefully in his cradle. She begins to run through the house, searching for her mother. But she can find neither her mother nor her father. The girl runs outside and starts knocking on the neighbors' doors.
An old Viking opens the door. "Where is my mother!" the little girl screams. The old Viking only looks down with a sorrowful gaze. The girl begins to cry even harder, staring at the ground and clenching her fists. The Viking tries to hug her, but she pushes him away so hard that he falls.
She approaches the old man. "Where is he?!" The Viking is silent. "Where is he?!!" She begins to strike the old Viking in the face. "I said, where is he!"
A Viking runs up from the street and grabs her in his arms; she struggles and screams, trying to hit him. "Where is he!" His face bears a sad expression, but he says nothing, taking her blows as if he deserves them.
The little girl's name is Anna; she is the older sister of Agrave.