#worldtree
He lives where no god dares linger—
the strip of bark between sky and root,
where truth and chaos trade whispers
no prayer can survive.
A streak of fur,
a flash of laughter,
a rebel-tail flicking at eternity.
He kneels to no throne,
bows to no rune,
fears no serpent,
and carries no banner
but his own pulse.
Up the trunk,
down the trunk,
he runs his outlaw orbit—
past the eagle’s cold wisdom,
past Nidhogg’s endless hunger,
unbothered by the wars
that crush the worlds he crosses.
He is not hero,
not villain,
not myth.
He is the only one
who owes Yggdrasil nothing.
The gods will fall.
The giants will fall.
The worlds will burn.
But he—
he will still be running,
tail high,
laughing through the smoke,
free long after heaven forgets its name.
And maybe freedom
was never in the halls of Asgard
or the depths of Hel—
maybe it lived all along
in the small, bright creature
who never asked for fate,
and never accepted chains.
Call him Ratatosk.
Call him chaos.
Call him truth on tiny claws.
But know this:
No god was ever as free
as the squirrel
who ran where he chose.
Nov 30, 2025
Nov 30, 2025 at 4:58 AM UTC