BLODUNDR

 All of his life, Blodundr gives of himself. He is the younger brother of Ruunar, the speaker-wolf of a pack that worships the sun. He is bigger and stronger than Ruunar, and he is more faithful; he prays, he stands beneath the beams that burn his dark coat, he leads the songs. 

He finds a mate, a dispersal from another pack, and with the help of a surrogate, they have children; life is beautiful, and Blodundr gives of himself. He pays little mind to the squabbling of pups and adolescents, then, unless they are his own. But his loyalty is repaid thusly: Ruunar's teeth on his snout when he protests a hunt– there are enough deer! You're just trying to make me look weak-! The envious, hatefilled glint in Ruunar's eyes. A twisted paw on a hunt. The trampling of hooves. 

And while he recovers with his mate, his children, Blodundr watches the pack wither. When he recovers, the withering will not slow. In the night he whispers we need to run, and he is rebuffed. 

So it goes. 

In the end, all of his prayers are for naught: his mate starves to death. His pups catch the plague. The camp reeks of rot. His prayers to the sun have gone unanswered. Blodundr buries his mate, his children, one at a time. He grits his teeth so hard that his tongueblood spatters the snow. 

He wants to reach into the sky and tear out Galda's throat. Her supporters in the war, too; every God who walks in her footsteps. Blodundr stares into the moon and he loses himself there, in his grief, in his fury. 

But the plague does not touch him.

In the end, it is Blodundr who finds Yvar, freshly blessed, spasming and choking. He watches Euldis' blessing clutch her frame. He helps her to her paws. 

He gives himself to the Devil, only the Devil promises him a place at her table in the world beyond, and she tells him she will send him something to temper him, and Blodundr feels something other than hate: 

he feels a quiet whisper of hope.