I’m having some fun introducing two characters to each other. Circumstance has them encountering each other as captives, both bound, one in possession of means to escape.
When she fished out the dagger from its hiding place in the folds of her many-layered dress, the Norseman grew very still. Would he shout? Would he bring a fate worse than death upon her? Her heart screamed possibilities as it thundered in her chest. What was it that glittered so dangerously in those unnaturally red eyes of his? Holding her breath, she approached him very, very slowly. The warmth of his breath bathed her neck in even streams as she leaned against him, cutting at his ropes. Now is not the time Eadlin, focus! she scolded herself and steadied the dagger in her hands. He smelled of leather, a musky hint of sweat, and tarred rope. She shivered. Get ahold of yourself, woman!