Wolves Watching

Fenrir watched the party as they made their way through the frozen forest. He ran his fingers across the surface of the pool distorting the vision and shifting his focus to observe the Ice Giants. He had thought them extinct, destroyed in the Ragnarok. The nine worlds were just full of surprises.

Out in the garden the wolves were worrying over the body of Heimdall, pulling him this way and that in the macabre play. The lump of meat they now dragged back and forth had lost any resemblance to the god it had once been. The watcher... a low growl formed in Fenrirs throat as he relived the moment he had killed the Aesir. The bastard traitor, what were these humans to him.

"Miles." Fenrir called over towards the wolves and one of the larger males stopped his sport and padded over. A huge grey beast, covered in the scars of battle. Clumps of fur torn away to reveal badly healed scars. The air around the creature shifted and where the wolf had once stood there now stood a man. The one time companion of these murderous fool he was watching.

"Master?" Miles cocked his head to one side, his eyes glistening gold.

"Gather your weapons and armour. Choose several from amongst the pack and stalk these murderers."

"Will you follow my lord?" Miles asked.

"No. The time is not yet right. There are matters that must come to fruition before my thirst for vengeance can be sated. Matter of import."

"As you say master. We will stalk your prey until you are ready."