It wasn’t the odds that frightened her. They were against her, but not insurmountable.
It was the cold. Her fingers were becoming stiff, despite her efforts to keep them warm and limber. If she stayed in place any longer the odds would be much tougher… but she would not fail her kin.
The raider’s attack had been swift, leaving her the last living soul as she’d fled. She remembered it all, every gasp of ash and smoke choking out her village’s soundless screams. The image of the smoldering heap that had once been her whole world was burned in her mind’s eye.