Thorvald’s Wyrd 008
One howl. Then two more.
The axe in his hand felt good, a comforting old friend, but would it be enough? Even one bite, clean of infection, might ruin the rest of his winter. Retreat would be best, let the pack pass him by, but the wolves sounded close, so close. The time to squeeze back through the door might cost him a leg.
Thorvald grabbed for the spear, intent on bending the bronze head enough to ease his passage back inside. He wrapped his hand around the haft and the weapon came free of the door at his touch.