Stone Circle when the laurel grows heavy on your brow

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ᚦ — one wolf. two wolf. three wolf. four wolf.
each encroach upon his lands. each virile, bred with fight in them—each seeking to bring challenge to the fore of his land. draugr met it each time, crushed all threat but left spirit in tact, and now they aligned to his vision.
warriors to line his land. to hunt with him, to fight with him. each one a brother.
but the gods knew he would kill each one if they betrayed.
now, another wolf. this one does not trespass. but it will be seen if he seeks to challenge, to lay his own claim to cover up draugr's fresh inhabitance. he comes, puffing fur, a growl rumbling deep in his throat.
appearing from the brush that has grown thick with life since the fleeing of winter into the northern lands, and he draws first words: you. a grizzled voice. what er your name?