I’m going to tell you a long-forgotten story. But first, I need to introduce a teenage girl who became something more fantastic than just a legend. Her name was Zjenika. She grew up in a tiny, insignificant village, hidden from the outside world by a magnificent deep-green forest. She had green eyes and auburn hair bleached by the sun.

It is also essential to know that it was a full day’s walk to a large river connected to the ocean.

Zjenika looked up at the fading stars of the early morning. Like most young ladies, Zjenika occasionally thought about a handsome, charming stranger falling in love with her. One who would be adventurous and strong enough to sweep her off her feet on a magical adventure far away from the doldrums of her simple, boring life.

Her shoulders dropped as she returned to reality. Fairy tales for children did not match real life, so she always rolled her eyes at them. She had one rule for her man: He must respect her as an equal. That complicates things. She bit her lower lip as she completed her thoughts: “And the man must be gentle enough to appreciate the beauty in a flower.” But her longing for adventure and living an exciting life outside her tiny, sheltered village burned deep within her. We all want a deeper purpose in life, and Zjenika was no different. She wanted an exciting destiny.

Zjenika was respected as a “woman” for almost three years but still without a husband. People were beginning to talk. Virtually all girls her age had found their chosen lovers. Of men, she had little knowledge, only a curious interest. All she knew was that senseless hormones ruled boys. The forest with Gaia was what she was interested in. Zjenika was soon to be old enough to be forced into marriage by the elders. She feared this because if the elders paired her, there would be no love, no companionship, just a teammate, and she was not a woman willing to be a toy to a husband.

***

A romantic adventure also needs the young man.

To the north was a sturdy wooden ship, a karvi. A small longboat designed to travel far up rivers. The ship wore a single, vast, wide oxblood sail that weighed heavily on the vessel. Hiding behind the sail was the tiny sliver of the moon, trying quietly not to draw attention. Ennobling the bow was an ornately carved dragon head with a long, forked tongue like a snake. Aboard were thirty hungry, irritated, ill-tempered Viking warriors. Toruk was the youngest among the crew. They had been baking in the hot, sticky heat, traveling south and looking at the shallow shore for hours. Now that summer was upon them, the soldiers felt their chances for success and fortune were slipping away. Yesterday, these Norsemen were melting on a mirror of water. They cursed the wind gods for their misfortune.