– 2 –

It is bad to break free, for clarity, and raven across the world, if you are an eat-anything wolf. It might be OK if you are actually a raven. I don’t know. But if you are a wolf, then this thing is bad.

That is all that is left, I think, all that remains to bind it.

That you shouldn’t do that, Fenris.

That that thing is bad.

The Agency is ready, I think, if the wolf should get loose. They’ve bought weaponry from the svart-elves and consulted the House of Dreams. They’ve studied the corpse of the wolf named Skoll, the sun-eater, and they’ve searched for a similar wolf — Hati — whom they think must exist. A wolf that must be out there, somewhere, to eat such things as onions and the moon. A girl, they figure, since Skoll was a boy; they’re terrified that it’ll get out there and breed.

They’re ready, anyway, if giant wolves get loose.

There are armies that will strike, if the wolf breaks free of the constraints upon it.

There are forces of reason, and unreason, that will hunt it down.

It is bad, because such wolves are not allowed to have such freedom; it is bad, because it makes its wounds ooze and the wolf sicken and bleed; it is bad, because the world and its people ought not be eaten.

It is bad! The wolf shouldn’t!

But Fenris still strains and struggles against its blood-caked, svart-made cord.

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