The Fur Trader
Once upon a time, a beautiful little baby girl, named Allexandar, was born in Ireland. She was born into a loving and healthy
family, and all her life growing up she had been happy.
The village was small, yet met the needs of its' people. Allexandar grew up on a small farm, like most people in the area. Her young life in this small place was peaceful. Quiet, predictable, and comforting.
But then the raids started.
When Allexandar was six, her village became a target for fierce raids. More and more people died each time the Norsemen came. Each time, however, Allexandar escaped. Her home was burned to the ground, and her father and brother were killed, their bodies impaled and burned by the evil men. They had died trying to fight the Norsemen off.
Allexandar would never forget the way the townspeople screamed as their homes burned, and their family members were slaughtered mercilessly in the night. It was terrible. Each time a raid happened, the Irish village took a very long time to recover. To stop mourning.
As if all this wasn't enough – The loss of her brother and father – When Allexandar was eight, the Norsemen came again. Even though the villagers had been training to fight off the evil men, they were beaten again. Even worse. This time, every building in the village was burned. Everyone was killed. Woman, children, men, babies even. All of them dead. Except for a small few. Allexandar being one of them.
The survivors were captured as slaves, and forced to come back to what we now call Norway with the Norsemen.
The conditions were poor. There was very little heat in the freezing nights. In the first week back to the Norsemen's land, a captive died. It was a little boy – Only a few years younger than Allexandar. She watched on as the boy died slowly of starvation and hypothermia. His cold, blue body dumped off of the side of the longboat, left to drift until the birds picked his bones clean.
By the time they reached Norway, one more slave had died since the boy had, and two were sold off at slave markets along the way, leaving three captives remaining.
Allexandar was sold for a high price to a huge man covered in scars. They called him Arnor The Great. He was famous for his great fighting skills in battle.
Allexandar was his slave for a year until she was sold off to another person, this one crueler.
The girl was sold and traded here and there until she was sold for the last time when she was thirteen. Her new owner was a man by the name of Thorir. He was cruel, and merciless. If Allexandar did not do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted, and how he wanted, she would be beaten severely. And then, Allexandar snapped. When Thorir and the other slaves were sleeping, she escaped into the dark forests around the dwelling.
But she knew she couldn't stay there. So, Allexandar ran for days, having nothing with her but a small dagger she had stolen, and the faded and patched dress she wore.
Four years later…
Allexandar now lived in the forests around a fjord. Her family now were large, grey wolves. The kind that would rip your throat out in seconds. But she loved them, and they loved her.
Allexandar was now a fur trader often going to trading markets and trading her goods for things such as bread and honey. She was famous for her furs, but never revealed her face – Always shrouding herself in a long grey cloak with a pointed hood. This was so she was not recognized by someone who had once owned her, in case they were in the market. But always, she carried with her a crossbow which she strapped across her back, and the dagger she had gotten so long ago.