Berserker
Magnus' coming had been well-timed.
Brand scented the air around him and fought a shudder of desire. Ulfhild's delectable, one-of-a-kind scent suffused the air overlaying the stench of sweaty, unwashed males who were back to sparring as usual. Luckily, he was sparring with one of the younger men, so he did not have to concentrate very hard to make the boy work. His muscles swung his blade instinctively after years of practice. Though he had not fought on a regular basis in the last decades, the muscle memory had not been forgotten. It gave his mind the dangerous ability to roam back to his shieldmaiden's graceful movements, her sinewy muscles, her fierce gaze during their battle.