Thorvald’s Wyrd 046
Gungnir tore through the breast of another wolf, spraying blood and fur steaming into the cold air. After so many blows, even the All Father’s spear felt heavy in Thorvald’s hand. The song in his blood faded to a distant chorus. Three wolves still circled him, though one with a strong limp.
And the lead wolf remained, still fresh and vigilant, waiting for him to fade and weaken. It must come soon. Thorvald’s breath rasped from his lips and all the muscles of his body ached. He wasn’t yet ready to die, but could see his death in yellow eyes.