Stone Circle hold your devil by his spoke and spin hi(m) to the ground

A howl sounded from the tree line and the young buck, alert to it also, turned and then fled. She watched it with a growing apprehension and when she too turned to leave, she saw the dark-faced man. His eyes were like blood.

He spoke with the same language as the commoners in this place, but his tone was almost mocking, and he had a lilt to his words that made things all that harder to understand.

Her fur bristled. It had thinned along her sides while her belly had grown; it was less intimidating and more sad, seeing her grow stiff-legged.

Hjarta? She murmurs. It is one of the few words he'd spoken that she could parse - heart. Sanja eyed him but did not run.

þú eltir dádýrin. Watching him for any recognition, assuming there would be none. dádýr! þar! Motioning to the arcing path the buck had taken. He did not follow through by running after it, so the intent was clear.

Now he was all the company she had left.