Blackfoot Forest blood magic

"Where are we going?"

Two balls of fluff - the youngest of the troop by far - had managed to sneak out of the bushes with the goal of batting at Ragnar's raised tail. They squealed and scattered when he spoke, spooked and delighted by his deep, rumbling timbre. They scurried into the bushes, tailing the pretty, blood-red girl that had summoned the Viking wolf in the first place. That same voice floated back to him from the deepening gloom, its source obscured by rough shrubs and hardy ferns. "Nanna calls you!"