Morning sun shone on a small field where white geese grazed. A brown cow raised its large black eyes to stare into hers. It moved toward a wattle-and-daub house painted blue. Smoke seeped from its thatched roof. A walnut tree shaded the house.

Rotaida pushed the gate open and edged inside. The geese set up a loud gabbling. A gander ran at her with his neck outstretched and his beak poised for attack. 

She shouted in Frankish, “Gan aweg! Go away!”

A woman ran from the house, flapping her apron, and shouting in Saxish, “Hlif nik min ganzen! Don’t steal my geese!”

Rotaida rushed toward her and pleaded in tense, low Saxish, “I’m no thief. Help me! Please!”

The woman shooed the geese aside. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

“I’m called Rotaida.”

“Why do you bother my geese? Why?”

“I fled from two captors, and they’re looking for me! Oh, gud ganzquan, please,” Rotaida pleaded, “will you hide me?”

The woman put her hands on her hips. Rotaida thought she was about send her back to her pursuers. Instead, she smiled and said, “You wear the Sign of the Goose’s Foot. Ja, I will help you.”

Rotaida glanced down and saw that her two pendants had escaped from her shift. The rune had won her a friend.