Sunlight woke Halfdan. Blinking, he looked at his companions, both sleeping. His limbs stiff, he got on his feet and stretched. He did not feel particularly refreshed; on the other hand, hunger and thirst had returned. No matter. He could ignore the demands of the body. The same could not be expected of Sif, but she did not need to be ready for battle. As long as she could march on, and if she could not, Halfdan would carry her as he done once before. He could not offer the same to Freydis; the priestess would have to keep up on her own.

  “Wake up. It’s time we get going.”

  Both the others stirred, unwrapping their cloaks that served as bed and blanket. “The bird is still alive, I hope,” Freydis remarked dryly. A croak came from above in response. “Marvellous.”

  The sound of another animal reached them as well, but far different in nature. The deep and drawn-out howl of a canine. “What’s that?” Sif asked. “Was that wolves?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Halfdan told her, his eyes skimming across the horizon. “They look for easy prey, not humans.” He hoped his words were true for this realm as they would be at home; there was no guarantee that animals acted the same here as in Midgard. “Let’s move.”

  Breaking camp took mere moments; the sun had barely risen in full before they were underway.

  *

  For a while as they marched, all seemed well; then they heard the wolf howling again. Halfdan did his best to ignore it, picking up the pace instead, but when he finally saw it on the horizon, his instincts called out in alarm. Even from a distance, the creature looked far bigger than any wolf should be. Furthermore, it was alone. While that might seem like less of a threat, it confirmed something was wrong. Ordinary wolves were pack animals. Halfdan remembered the enormous bear he had killed upon his first arrival to this realm, which turned out to be a shapeshifted J?tun. He exchanged a worried glance with Freydis, but neither of them spoke, and the animal ran off.

  When they heard the howling again, it came from a different side. Halfdan wondered if he had been wrong; if so, they were done for, should the creatures be hostile. They might be able to defeat one of these dreaded beasts, but not a whole pack.

  The third time he heard the mournful cry of the canine, Halfdan noticed that it was never answered. That returned a glimmer of hope to him; that supported his initial assessment of a single predator on the prowl. For whatever reason, it was encircling them. Perhaps to give off the impression of greater numbers, or maybe simply to strike dread into them. It was obvious that they could never hope to escape such a creature, able to run circles around them.

  When a while had passed in silence, Halfdan dared to hope that perhaps they were not its prey after all. A look over his shoulder proved that hope to be folly. The wolf was behind them; not yet in a sprint, but still moving at a pace that allowed it to catch up to them. The same flat moor that gave Halfdan full vision of his enemy also provided no place to hide or otherwise use the terrain for his benefit.

  None of his companions spoke, but they had seen and understood the same as him. They kept a quick pace, but they all knew it would not help. Whether the wolf caught up to them in a little while or half an hour, the result would be the same.

  Halfdan considered his options. If he fought the beast alone, he could use his rage without concern for their safety and perhaps win the fight. Or at least buy them time to flee, especially if he managed to injure the wolf. On the other hand, if he separated from them, the wolf could simply run around him and catch up to them. For all her prowess, Freydis did not have a warrior’s gift; without Halfdan, she and Sif would be slaughtered.

  Releasing his axe from his back, Halfdan stopped. “Better we stand our ground.”

  Freydis took hold of her spear with both hands. “As you deem best.” Sif did not respond, but she placed a stone in her sling.

  Halfdan took two steps forward. “I’ll draw its attention. Attack when it’s distracted.” Behind him, Freydis nodded, her weapon ready. “If I give the signal, both of you, you run,” he impressed upon them. “And you don’t look back. You keep running.” Freydis repeated her gesture; Sif only stared with wide eyes.

  The wolf increased its pace now that its prey had decided to take up the fight. Swiftly, it closed the distance between them. Any hope that it might forego aggression, seeing them at the ready, was quickly dispelled by its sneer. Up close, Halfdan could see it possessed twice his size if not more. Its fur was black, its eyes yellow, and the sharp teeth shone white in the sunlight. A glance at the claws showed them more than capable of ripping a man’s throat out with ease. Halfdan had heard tales of Fenrir the great wolf; he could well imagine he faced such a mythical beast.

  Barring its fangs, the monstrous creature leapt forward to attack. A stone came flying to strike its snout, which caused no change in its charge. Guided by [Wielder of Weapons], Halfdan knew exactly when to strike. His axe came down to split the wolf’s skull. Just as against the bear, the bite of his steel did not punch through; [Deeper the Cut] could not penetrate the thick fur. But fuelled by [Strength of Body], it arrested the beast’s momentum, holding it back for a moment.

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  From the side, Freydis appeared and stabbed her spear against a hind leg, meant to hobble their enemy. The hide proved just as strong in that place, and her attack fared no better than Halfdan’s.

  Recovered from his first swing, the berserker struck another, still aiming at the head. From this angle, facing it head on, he could not reach any other part of the beast, great in size as it was. Again the edge of his axe did not avail, and he had to leap backwards to evade claws that threatened to rip his chest open.

  To Hel with this beast! Halfdan thought. Perhaps the belly is more vulnerable, but I can’t hit that with my axe. I have to get under with my dagger, and if it fails, it will crush me. Or I go berserk and hope my strength can prove mightier than its skull… and that the others get away fast enough.

  Just as he meant to shout for his companions to run, the wolf made its move. Seeing Halfdan’s axe proved impotent, it made a great leap to land on top of him, forcing him to the ground. Fending off snapping jaws with the haft, Halfdan tried to make the wolf expose its flank to Freydis’ spear.

  The wolf reacted faster. With quick movements, it leapt away once again, this time attacking Freydis. Her spear was swept aside by the sheer momentum of its massive body, and a swipe of its claws tore her arm open and threw her entire body aside.

  Another stone flew to hit the wolf, which only made it turned towards the slinger with a sneer. His heart pumping with a spike of concern, Halfdan pushed himself off the ground. As the beast jumped towards the young skáld, Halfdan launched himself forward to intercept it. He fell upon it and found himself on its back, trying to choke it out. But his arms could not reach around the neck, and the wolf thrashed around to throw him off.

  “Freydis! Get ready to strike!” he shouted, dearly hoping she was still in the fight. Abandoning his attempt of a chokehold, Halfdan grabbed the wolf’s upper and lower jaw and pulled them open. Employing all the strength that [Strength of Body] gave him, he held the mouth of the beast open. The exertion made his vision darken, and he saw the fangs sharp as blades that would tear him to pieces if he faltered.

  Behind him, Freydis was back on her feet. Her right arm hanging limp, she locked her spear under her left shoulder and ran forward, like a charging rider with lance but no horse. Her aim was true; the spearpoint penetrated the creature’s mouth and went deep inside its head. With a sudden convulsion, it fell to the ground; panting, Halfdan allowed himself to join it.

  *

  Once he had regained his breath, Halfdan got back up. Only then did he notice the state of Freydis. Pale, she leaned against her spear held in her left hand; the fabric of her right sleeve was bloody and torn to shreds. The pain had to be excruciating; Halfdan would know. “You must be attended to.”

  The priestess nodded, gritting her teeth. “I have bandages in my bag.” Like twisted rope suddenly released, Sif bolted towards the aforementioned item and began looking through its content.

  “We don’t have water to clean it with,” Halfdan remarked as he carefully took Freydis’ hand to hold it still while his dagger cut apart the ruined sleeve. He winced seeing the claw marks beneath.

  “Just bind it for now,” Freydis told him. “I may not have your gift, but it shall heal well enough, by the grace of my lady.”

  “We’ll cleanse it properly when next we come across water,” he promised, troubled by the lifeless touch of her soft fingers against his. As much as he wanted to maintain a distance, as much as he told himself that the priestess of Freya was responsible for her own survival, it bothered him to see her hurt.

  Sif gave Halfdan the bandage before surprise coloured her face. “Look! The wolf!”

  Before their eyes, the massive creature shrunk in size. The fur fell away, the head changed form, the fangs shrank, and claws became nails until a young man remained, naked on the ground. Less than twenty years old, Halfdan estimated, as he wrapped cloth around Freydis’ wounded arm.

  “Another J?tun,” the berserker muttered.

  “I’m not sure,” Sif interjected. “I read his gift before he died. It said he had the curse of Aesir. What does that mean?”

  Next to her, Freydis clenched her good hand with a pained expression. “A lone wolf of monstrous size, so close to Loki’s prison. I think this was his son, Váli.”

  Halfdan thought back on what he had been told. “The one transformed by the gods into a wolf that he would kill his brother, so they might use the sinews from his brother’s corpse to bind the father?” The very rope tied around his waist even now.

  “The very one.” Freydis stared at the corpse with a countenance that seemed to change; anger, pity, both, or something else entirely.

  “He’s just a lad. Did no wrong, yet they made him a monster and the killer of his brother.” Halfdan looked at the slain body. He was not sure if the gods were just, but they were certainly vindictive. “That’s not right,” he mumbled to himself, finishing the bandage. “He did nothing to deserve this punishment.”

  Freydis turned her gaze from the corpse to Halfdan. “Do you truly believe so?”

  He met her green eyes, staring into them longer than he had intended. “Yes. Argue if you wish, priestess, but it feels wrong to me.”

  Her expression changed, becoming softer – maybe because nothing disturbed her wound anymore. “There’s nothing to argue, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Sif picked up the stones she had used during the fight. “It’s still early in the day. Lots of daylight left. Should we get going?” Despite her casual tone, the girl seemed tense.

  Halfdan did not blame her; the presence of a corpse rarely improved the mood. “Yes. We go.” Above, the raven cried, flying in circles.