. . .

And eventually that day comes; it is a day when Vaenwode trusts the wolf too well. He gets too close to the creature that he keeps in chains. He loves it and he belongs to it and so he forgets that it is his enemy; and it bites his arm, snips it off, and swallows it; pins his chest with a delicate foot and whispers to him as blood drops fall from its mouth onto his face:

“Vaenwode, you are made not to keep me but to free me; this is perversion.”

He spits in its face.

“You are my son and my father,” says the wolf. “You are my devourer and you are my food. You will become one with me and later you will free me; I shall ripen my freedom through your children, from that line will my rescuer spring.”

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