Small Realities

Inside the mind of Lance Schonberg

Thorvald’s Wyrd 044

His blood sang.  How he kept so many at bay was beyond Thorvald’s ken, yet surely the All Father’s hand steadied him, some tiny bit of His grace touching Thorvald’s heart.

Three of the beasts lay hurt on the ground.  Five more yapped and snarled at him, darting in and out at random to snap at his arms or legs or any bit of him they might find within reach.  He’d felt teeth, but none had yet done more than brush his flesh.

One wolf stayed at the fray’s edge.  Thorvald made certain to always know where that one stood.

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