. . .

Raiders strike Vaenwode’s home; he goes into a blood-rage in the fight, he ravens out among them, he wakes and finds he has eaten part of one of them. He can’t get the taste out of his mouth, or its subtle sweetness. He can’t regurgitate at all.

He prays, wild-eyed with fear, into the night.

He sends his wife and children away from him. He lives alone. He is afraid that one day the wolf will come out of him; or take him over; and that will be their end.

He dreams it is a god-wolf, or a god-killing wolf, at least.

He dreams of it growing larger than the world; and hungry enough to gulp it like a snack.

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