Battle Ready

Perched upon the edge of the cliff, she overlooks the vast open waters. The mist of the crashing waves dampens her alabaster skin, as locks of deep copper hair whip wildly around her head. There is a quickening in her chest before the deep gurgling croak of her familar echos from the distance. Badb swoops up the cliff face and lands on her shoulder, making direct eye contact for a moment. The day has come. Northmen have made their way around England. They are on route to make land fall on the north most part of the island, where they will ravage the small farming villages unopposed for many furlongs. She looks up to the billowing gray clouds, hoping, praying for a strong storm to push the northern heathens further south. The corner of her mouth rises into a sly smirk as the thought of facing the nortorious plunderers crosses her mind.