He shakes the snow from his fur and tastes the air

A young boy leans against an oak
A rusted sword at his side


The wolf leaves the warmth of his den

(They listened to the old man around the fire
His words hang in the air...)

The wolf bares his yellow teeth

The boy would lie beneath the stars
Imagining the tales
Heracles wounding even the gods

The metallic lure of blood. Skades' perfume was heavy on the morning fog

He slept and drempt
He was in the vale again
Leaning against the old oak
His father's words were harsh-
Only a coward would run from such a glorious death


The hunger was, unbearable now
The wind pulled at his hair




In the cold early morning fog
The spear was heavy, but he was strong
The sword was rusted, but he had cunning



They were alone in the valley
Where the morning fog will never lift