Dad trails twin plumes of nose-born smoke, his arms full with Eric''s body as he walks. Wrapped in Dad''s cloak, Eric is spared the bite of spring as I trudge along in Dad''s wake. The largest of the sheep shuffles behind us all, guided by a length of leather ending in my hand. Tied to its back is the wolf''s fire-scorched remains.


    A fire-emptied eye socket drills holes in my back as I walk in silence. W-wolves aren''t like us humans, any death is final. And yet...


    Shame burns in my chest as I bow my head, eyes locking to the freshly-trodden grass. I should''ve done something, anything, to save Eric. His spear was right there, I had it in hand! I could have slain the beast, then and there!


    B-but... But I didn''t. I-I failed him. I froze, fear won.


    I was weak, I hesitated, and Eric died because of it.


    With every step, I draw closer to home, and my heart beats that much harder. My shoulders stiffen as I stand up straight, my brows pressing tight upon my head. Fingers curl into fists as teeth grind together.


    I failed because I froze. I froze because I was weak, untested, untrained. Of course I froze, of course I was weak. How could I not be when I forgot a rule all men must obey?


    Power Requires Sacrifice, one of the three Laws of Life.


    I sacrificed nothing, so I had no power.


    Today, that changes. Today, I sacrifice my hesitation. Never again will I freeze, never again will I let inaction take the lives of my loved ones.


    My fiery heart beats in agreement, its flames warming my soul.


    <hr>


    Home commands a powerful presence at the top of a lonely hill. Good, fertile land lies empty in the new year, soon to be plowed and made seed-sown in the coming weeks. A fence of sharpened stakes and flat boards encircles the hill, the sole entrance a stone-paved gate left open in its master''s absence.


    A small herd of cows linger around the hill, kept close by the watchful eye of my older sister, Asva. Brown hair cascades down her shoulders as she turns her head in greeting, only for her warm smile to freeze as horror dawns in brown eyes.


    Asva''s jaw trembles as slender, nimble fingers work themselves into knots. "I-is that...?"


    "Dead in body alone," Dad answers as he steps through the gate with me and the sheep close behind.


    "Oh, thank the Gods," Asva is quick to offer a bowed head to the skies, her horror vanishing as quickly as it came.


    "We will soon," Dad mutters before his tone rises into a command, "Get your mother and Randi, and bring me the bleeding bowl. Halla," he turns to me, his back straight and voice firm, as Asva nods and runs off, "unload the wolf at the butcher''s block, I''ll be there soon."


    I offer a nod just as the house''s front door swings open, revealing an older copy of Asva. Crows'' feet border narrow eyes beneath a canopy of furrowed brows. Her gaze locks on Dad as she erupts into motion, her strides long and swift. Randi, Dad''s house-thrall, follows close behind with a cloth-wrapped bundle under arm.


    "Steinarr!" Mother shouts, her voice wobbling ever-so-slightly as she slows before Dad. Hissing, she closes what remains of the gap in an instant, "What have you done to my baby boy?"


    Dad hesitates, shoulders slumping as his eyes moisten, "I... I wasn-" He shakes his head, stopping his words as he screws eyes shut, "Later, please."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Mother''s lips thin, but she respects Dad''s wishes as she sighs. Holding out her arms, she says, "Give him here, Randi and I will see to him."


    Dad nods, gently depositing Eric into Mother''s waiting arms. She struggles under the weight for a moment before taking a deep breath and righting herself. With Randi in tow, she returns to the house.


    Dad watches them go, eyes lingering on darkness as they disappear into the house, before letting his head hang limp.


    "Halla," I startle as he speaks, "don''t you have somewhere to be?"


    My eyes widen as I let out a very manly and warrior-like squeak and, on swift feet, quickly drag the sheep to the butcher''s block.


    <hr>


    Asva and I stand as Dad crouches before the wolf''s remains, the sheep tethered to a nearby hitching post. The ground here is bare and flat, the sole adornment a thick, red-stained stump bearing hundreds of axe-bites.


    Asva holds a polished bowl of silver-trimmed wood. Runes cover the inside, carving a spell into the wood. Uncolored as they are, no magic can be wrought.


    I hold nothing, nothing save for the rising determination in my heart. All animals have their flaws, their weaknesses, so I shall learn that which wounds the wolf best. No beast-wolf will escape my wrath, this I promise.


    "Wolves," Dad begins, his work-knife''s iron gleaming in the early evening light, "are like any monster." With a smooth, practiced motion, he opens the wolf from chest to hips, revealing its insides to all who deign to look, "They have what''s called a ''frenzy-fast''," reaching his hand inside the wolf, he roots around for a moment before cracking a small grin. With a sharp wrench, his red-slick hand emerges holding a bloody mass of sack-like flesh, "Shapecrafters and Seers always pay good prices for monster organs, but frenzy-fasts and..." he pauses for a moment before inclining his head toward Asva and I, "Can you guess what else would interest a magic-man?"


    It doesn''t take much thinking to come up with an answer—before Asva, might I add! "The heart!"


    "Very good," Dad smiles, his clean hand ruffling my hair as Asva scowls, "Frenzy-fasts and hearts are the most valuable. Eyes are also up there, same with brains, but," he taps his knife against the wolf''s flattened head, "those aren''t exactly on the menu for us, so to speak."


    "Dad?" I speak up, a question on my lips, "How do you kill a wolf? Eric," the modicum of levity vanishes when my brother''s name takes to the air, "hurt it bad, but it didn''t die."


    Dad''s small grin fades, but he doesn''t hesitate to answer my question, "Wolves will die like any creature, human or otherwise. You hit it hard enough, quick enough, to send it into shock and then finish it."


    "So why didn''t it die when Eric hit it?"


    Dad''s lips thin as he sighs, "The frenzy-fast," he wiggles the hand holding said organ, "was too small for a wolf this size, which means its frenzy overwhelmed its senses. Frenzy dulls pain and sharpens the killer instinct, turning anything with it into death-on-legs. Depending on how the Lord of Frenzy is feeling, of course." Dad shrugs as he gestures for Asva, who hands him the bowl, "Speaking of the Gods."


    Reaching into the wolf''s chest, Dad removes the heart with a sharp flick of the wrist. Holding the heart above the silver-trimmed bowl, he squeezes, filling the bowl to the brim with deep red blood.


    "All-Father Odin, Lord of Frenzy," Dad begins as he kneels on the ground, his head bowed and the bowl held up high, "we offer you the heart''s blood of a wolf as thanks for limiting its frenzy."


    Glowing light erupts from within the bowl as the runes receive color. The blood churns as its level lowers, the runes swallowing the bowl''s contents with every passing moment.


    The wolf''s frenzy... was limited? Heart pounding, I swallow the fear building inside. No matter. Frenzy or not, limited or not, every wolf will feel the bite of my blade.


    ...When I get one, that is.


    The bowl empties, cleaning itself as it does, but Dad does not rise from his pose. His hand reaches out, drifting to where the sheep, the largest of the flock, calmly nibbles on weeds.


    A sharp crack fills the air. One moment, the sheep lives. The next, it doesn''t; its neck snapped by Dad''s hand.


    The sheep collapses and I swallow, Asva''s hand meeting mine in a quiet show of sisterly support.


    In a smooth motion, Dad splits the sheep''s neck and fills the bowl anew. Returning to his kneel, he bows his head and raises the bowl once more to the heavens.


    "Vitharr, Wolf-Foe," Dad begins, his voice solemn and bearing something the previous sacrifice lacked, "I offer you the biggest of my sheep as t-thanks," he pauses, gathering his strength, "as thanks for granting Halla the strength to slay the wolf. I-it," he swallows, "it was stronger than I expected, and I fell further than I thought."


    Light erupts, blood drains, and the sacrifice is complete.


    A warm wind fills the air.