Barrow Fields and all the world was devils

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death does not mind, says the other, and the boy delights in this - he is an angel veiled by a name of his own choosing much like ysengrin himself and oh! he brings such interest to the wolf from yonder lands! ah, scarlet, known as crimson, as sanguine fluid, as desire and war - death thinks to be ambitious and yet it is the truth, for the boy does sense truth in the words of the other. in the passage of death does the world burn but ah-ah-ah!
ysengrin has never been a creature born to safety; indeed it is the safe path that clouds the mind and leads to terrible, terrible stagnation.
"am i, oh, am i? this wolf here is but a weaver of words, seeking the finest tales and the sweetest songs - and here i am thinking i have found both at once! pilgrim indeed, yes; surely death has stories unshared before?"
he- ah, he is filled with wondrous purpose! go and tell the nations, they said to him, spread dreams and weave lifetimes through your voice! he is bound to them, and bound to his lord and lady through this calling. but he has enticed death to stop his carriage for just a-while, simply to hear a tale.

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