Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned

This is a short story by Wells Tower about bloodthirsty vikings and, strangely, the cost of love. Below is a colorful excerpt, or, if you found the title as interesting as I did, you can skip straight to reading here at Macmillan.

The clouds were spilling out low across the sky when we shoved off. Thirty of us on board, Gnut rowing with me at the bow and behind us a lot of other men I’d been in some shit with before. Some of their families came down to watch us go. ØrlStender fucked up the cadence waving to his son, who stood on the beach waving back. He was a tiny one, not four or five, standing there with no pants on, holding a baby pig on a hide leash. Some of the others on board weren’t a whole lot older, rash and violent children, so innocent about the world they would just as soon stick a knife in you as shake your hand.