Bramblepoint That girl has tangled with the wrong man

Of the two other wolves who traveled in this area, Qeorvik could only sense one in the immediate vicinity, if only because this one toted something worth his time. The scent of rotting meat drew him in, and from afar he saw a large figure – larger than himself! – carrying the antlered head of a deer.

Sizing up the silver-and-blacksmoke wolf, he figured intimidation would not work on such a beast. Best to try another approach. Úlfur! he called, approaching in a cavalier trot. Ef þú deilir þessu höfði með mér, mun ég veiða með þér fyrir betri máltíð. Pausing, he gave an inquisitive tip of his skull in wait for a response.