* * *
The Berserker captain lay bleeding on the ground when Thor found her, sprawled on the dirt not far from one of the overturned bulldozers. Her left leg was bent at an unnatural angle, and her clothing was streaked with dirt and blood. Rita tried to prop herself up on her elbows as Thor approached, but she fell back to the ground again with a painful groan.
“Berserker.” Thor stood over her, studying her ragged, pink tracksuit and the blood glistening on her dark skin. In Thor’s ancient legions of Berserkers, the few women in the ranks had been some of the fiercest and most cunning warriors he had ever seen. Thor took note of Rita’s lean muscles and hard jaw. Unlike the other fighters in Managarm’s pathetic crew, this one actually showed promise.
Rita scowled as she pulled open her pink terrycloth jacket to reveal the still red crescent moon carved into her chest.
“The mark of the Moon Dog.” Thor felt his face flush with anger. He very nearly plunged his hammer deep into her forehead, but then softened when he saw tears trickling down her cheeks.
“The mark of the Moon Witch.” She averted her eyes in shame. “We did not make this choice for ourselves. We were commanded by the one who called us.”
“Berserkers do not cry!” Thor glowered down at her. “A mortal warrior does not entreat a god for mercy!”
He narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on his hammer, but he couldn’t bring himself to destroy her. She was badly wounded and was no further threat in this battle. Thor turned his back and walked away.
Valhalla Page 63