King Elk Forest the reek of gods and men

when he spoke of gods and hall, she dipped her head once, deeply, paying reverence to the gods.

beneath a pine heavy with snow, she paused and set the bundle down. stones arranged. bark turned. a twist of herb placed with care. her paws moved in old patterns — circle, cross, stillness — the ways taught by fire and silence.

she pressed brow to earth. breath steadied. then rose and marked her chest with two fingers, ash-smudged, before turning that same sign toward the forest. all belong. gods first.

standing again, she waited at his side — volga of the old gods, listening for what the woods would answer next.