That Dael had golden hair was not completely odd - the men in the north were paler, like him. But most people in the village paid more attention to Dael's gift than his hair.
One of the others spoke in a strange, rolling tongue that made Ma flinch.
"What does the color of my hair matter? What of our fathers, brothers, friends?"
"They were defeated -" the soldier began, but the other soldier - Dael noticed he wore a different plume on his helmet - interrupted. An argument ensued, and then the other soldier dismounted, tugged off his helmet.
"Did the Vikings land here?"
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