Her hand, raw with coldness, grasped the hilt of the sword firmly. Flecks of snow flew about in the air, looking like white ash. She was cold, her clothes were meagre and ripped from places. As she stood there in battle-stance against the foe that she facing in the treacherous, unforgivingly freezing quarry in the midst of mountains, Fria looked the giant wyvern that she was facing. The wyvern sneered at her and shot red sparks from its nostrils. The ambers reflected in her green eyes yet she did not flinch in the face of fear and death.
för nord, she said and rushed towards the black beast from hell itself. Snow crunched underneath her feet as she ran and arched her sword backwards to strike the wyvern. The wyvern breathed fire at her, fire of unparalleled hatred burning with the intention of annihilation. Fria pulled her shield in front of her, and proceeded her advance, trusting in her shield, for after all, what good was a shield maiden without her faith in her armor.
The fire scorched the wooden shield and burnt it to a crisp but in that time, Fria had lunged at the wyvern. As its black slit-less eyes met her fierce green, she plunged her sword in its heart and wedged the flaming wooden shield in its open mouth. Its towering body turned into a carcass with her on top of it.