A new beginning

A cool breeze gently tosses my curls over my face, brushing my cheek and making me stir. I feel wet earth beneath me, the blades of grass tickling the skin on my exposed arms and calves. Sunshine coaxes my closed eyes to flutter open. A bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds greet me.

Huh?

I sit up suddenly and my head swims. Slightly dizzy, I prop myself up with one hand while holding my head in the other, remembering my fall into the manhole in the city. This is definitely not the bottom of that manhole. Another cool breeze shifts the tall grass around me and brings crisp, clean air with a floral scent to my lungs, causing me to glance up. I gasp as I take in my surroundings.

To my left, a glittering, deep blue fjord carves between steep rock that rises several hundred feet on each side, adorned with lush greenery and snow capped peaks. A waterfall cuts through one of them, creating the shape of a veil draped over the green mountainside before it cascades into the fjord. Beyond, the jagged peaks of the mountains continue as far as I can see, their snow caps cutting a sharp contrast against vibrant blue sky. Around me, bright yellow and purple flowers dot the field I sit in, gently swaying in the breeze. The sight takes my break away.

Am I dead? Is this...some form of the afterlife? I wasn't exactly a believer in Heaven, but I always believed there was something meant for our souls once we passed on.

I look down at myself and see that I'm still wearing my work clothes; a navy pencil skirt, navy flats and a frilly white blouse with eyelet embroidery, but I no longer have my purse and phone. Must have dropped it in the fall? Oddly, my body looks uninjured. That's weird. I didn't even feel the impact of the fall.

I look to my right, and see that there are more jagged mountains with snow brushed peaks surrounding me. Beyond the field I sit in, a valley extends in the distance with what appears to be a natural path that leads through them, although it looks a bit rocky and uneven. I see no signs of civilization.

Suddenly, the thought of my potential demise starts to settle in, sending my heart into my stomach. I didn't survive that fall, did I? Oh my god...mom...my family.... I hug my knees into my chest tightly and drop my head, starting to shake. I try taking deep breaths to get my breathing under control and my heart rate down.

Isn't the afterlife supposed to be peaceful? Why do I feel this way? What's happening?

A sob breaks through my chest and I shut my eyes against it, hugging my knees even tighter. I stay that way for a while, before I gain control over my breathing and heart rate once again. It's a few minutes, or hours later, who knows, when I hear a baaaaaaa! that startles me enough to whip my head up. A scruffy, curly horned sheep with a matted grey coat stands a few feet away from me, chewing some tall grass in its mouth and staring at me with its beady eyes. It grumbles another baaaaaa at me as its jaws slowly chew. I glance around and see that he has a few friends scattered nearby, also grazing from the tall grass. I sigh, turn my gaze back on Scruffy and say, "you're right, I should get up and not wallow in my despair of my unexpected demise." Scruffy looks unmoved by my statement, and dips down his horned head to grab more grass. I snort and get up, brushing the back of my skirt in a futile attempt to remove the grass stains I know are on my ass right now. I take a deep breath of the fresh mountain air and make my way to the natural path I spotted earlier.

The afterlife is definitely not what I expected. Maybe this is some sort of test.

I walk for an hour or two when I start to feel the grumbles of hunger in my stomach. I put my hand on my stomach and look down with confusion. Hunger? In the afterlife? This doesn't make any sense. Despite this, I trudge on, stumbling on the rocks and uneven ground in my very non-hiking shoes, swearing occasionally in my frustration.

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Pain in the afterlife too huh, am I really dead? But what other explanation is there?

Confused as ever, I continue on my journey to who knows where. As I start to crest a hill that I already tripped and fell on the peat twice, muddying my knees and hands, I hear a rumbling behind me. I pause to listen closer. It sounds like....hoof beats? I whip my head around, searching for the source, and see a group of about 40 men on horseback galloping my way. They wear the pelts of animals, armor made from leather and metal, braids in their hair and beards and carry various blades and axes strapped to their hips and back. They are about 40 feet way and closing in fast.

Shit!

I start sprinting, but I know it's just a matter of time before they will catch up with me. My brain scrambles, trying to come up with some sort of plan when they will inevitably confront me. I have no weapons. I am outnumbered. Not to mention they are on horseback and I have no idea where I am or where to go. Excited shouts in a language I do not recognize sound close behind me. Too close. I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder while my treacherous foot trips on a rock and sends me tumbling down the other side of the hill.

"Argh!" I manage to get out as I tumble, each roll causing a new source of pain in my already sore and bruised body. Eventually, I come to a halt, in a heap on my side at the bottom of the hill. The sound of hoof beats slow as the men on horseback surround me. A few of them laugh at my sorry state, one in particular with vibrant red hair matching mine throwing his head back while he laughter booms above all others. Some of the men leer at me with hungry eyes, making comments to their neighbors in what sounds to be Old Norse, while the rest appear to scowl in disgust at my apparent weakness. The realization makes me glare back up at them. Fuck them.

Suddenly, they quiet and part a path on their horses for one man to ride up front. They way the move out of his way and look to him shows that they respect him greatly. Once I get a good look at him, I can see why. He is MASSIVE. Even on his spotted brown mare I can tell he must be about six and a half feet tall. He has dusty blonde hair that frames a handsome face in light waves, part of it tied to the back of his head. A few beaded strands clink in the breeze on his hair and beard. His ocean blue eyes focused and narrowed on me with a sign of intelligence I didn't see in the others. His large, muscled frame wore padded leather armor beneath a shirt of mail with a brown wolf pelt draped over his shoulders and leather bracers on both arms. A sheathed long sword is strapped across his back, the long hilt peaking above his bulky shoulder. The men surrounding us stay behind as he rides in front of them. They appear to be looking to him for his next move. He must be their leader then.

I stand up slowly, meeting his stare and lifting my chin. This doesn't look good for me, but I am not going to go down without a fight. Wasn't I already dead? This is so fucking weird. Are they guardians of the afterlife?

Not breaking eye contact, the apparent leader dismounts his mare and struts toward me. He stops a foot from me. In order to maintain eye contact, I have to tilt my head up at him.

"Frode, Hvað eigum við að gera með henni?" the man with red hair says to the leader, who appears to be named Frode and looks pointedly at me.

"Ég er að ákveða, Torsten," Frode says and steps even closer reaching his hand out to my face.

Muscle memory takes over. I assume a Wing Chun defense stance and pak da his hand away before it can reach me. Well, I try to. The guy is a fucking statue of muscle. I manage to at least change the trajectory. His eyes widen just slightly before the ghost of a smirk hits the corner of his mouth, hand still outstretched.

Torsten booms with laughter. "Bhaha! Frode, Hún er ákafr..." I wince and hiss as a sharp pain erupts in my temple "...woman. Watch yer back, she doesn't look so weak after all!"

Wait...I can understand them now? What is happening?

Frode continues to stare down at me, tilting his head dropping his hand.

"What is your name, fiery one?" Frode says.

If I can understand them, that means I can now speak and understand Old Norse. Can I speak it too?

"My name is..." I start, but it's not English coming from my mouth.

What the fuck?

My mind starts racing. I can suddenly speak Old Norse. I can feel pain and hunger. I can feel the breeze in the air and the wet earth beneath my soaked, muddy flats. I am not dead. I am alive! These are clearly vikings and I appear to be somewhere similar to Norway, as ridiculous as this all sounds.

"Holy shit," I whisper in disbelief. "I've actually been isekai'd."