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Wolf Moon
by, Sean Bingham
Wolf Moon
Chapter 1: The wolf
The year was some time in the eight century A.D. The white snow-covered forests in Scandinavia were filled with silence as the giant snow flakes fell from the sky attempting to burry the trees in a blanket of snow. Red frozen droplets of blood made a trail in the snow leading to a bloody deer leg. I big white wolf lurks in the distance smelling the air. He smelt the blood in the air and with the winter being so harsh such feasts were few and far in between. The wolf’s deep eyes were focused on the bloody leg. The wolf smelt the air to check if it was clear but all he could smell was the fresh blood. The wolf knew that something was off but was overcome by hunger. The wolf went after the leg and it sank its teeth into the bloody meat. The wolf was caught off guard as a spear was thrown into its side. The wolf led out a high pitch cry. The spear hit the wolf’s heart killing it in a matter of seconds. A large tattooed man with scars on his face and a large axe appeared in the trees. He knelt by the wolf to make sure that it was not suffering. He noticed that this wolf was well fed for the time year but thought nothing of it. He stroked its head and said a prayer for wolf thanking it for its sacrifice. The man pulled the spear out of the wolf and carried it on his shoulders. The large man was a Viking berserker who wore only the pelts of a wolf into battle. After his previous battle he was hit in the face with sword leaving a horrible gash in his face that now left an intimidating scar across his face. The wolf pelt that he was accustomed to wearing was destroyed in battle and taken off of what his enemies assumed was his dead corpse. For whatever reason the Valkyries refused to take him Valhalla. He should be dinning with his fallen brothers in the great hall of the Gods but instead he healed and now has to find another pelt. He didn’t like killing the wolves for their pelts. A berserker rarely needs to kill more than one wolf. For with the pelt comes the spirit of that animal. They wear the pelts to conjure and embody the fierce spirit of that animal. This berserker believed that a wolf can only be hunted after the first full moon of Yule and before the next full moon called the wolf moon. Only then can the spirit of the wolf be claimed. He lost his pelt just after the spring solstice. Long has he waited to regain his strength for the chance to claim the spirit that will fuel him in his battles to come. When a berserker dies in battle, not only does he carry his own soul to Valhalla but also the spirit of the wolf. To lose his pelt was tragic and to be stripped of it was a dishonor for the spirit of the wolf was now lost to Niflheim. It was a great tragedy that he lived and that the wolfs spirit is now lost. The wolf that laid dead before him was a beautiful white wolf with a grey patch running down its back to the tip of its tail. He needed to enter Valhalla with the spirit of this wolf or he would be lost to the land of mist and fog never to dine and fight in the hall of the Gods.
Deep in the snow-covered woods a wild woman with a painted face prepares a stew in a small humble hut made of sticks, grass, and furs. There were strings of bones hanging from the ceiling and a big reindeer skull hanging above the entrance. She was a beautiful maiden with silver hair the color of the moon and big light brownish almost maroon colored eyes. The sun had just set and she realized that it was beginning to get dark outside. With a worried look on her face she peered through the trees. When she didn’t see or hear anything she began to howl like a wolf. She looked around walking a mile in each direction howling till her throat ached. The silver full moon began to rise reflecting off the snow and...
Wolf Moon
Chapter 1: The wolf
The year was some time in the eight century A.D. The white snow-covered forests in Scandinavia were filled with silence as the giant snow flakes fell from the sky attempting to burry the trees in a blanket of snow. Red frozen droplets of blood made a trail in the snow leading to a bloody deer leg. I big white wolf lurks in the distance smelling the air. He smelt the blood in the air and with the winter being so harsh such feasts were few and far in between. The wolf’s deep eyes were focused on the bloody leg. The wolf smelt the air to check if it was clear but all he could smell was the fresh blood. The wolf knew that something was off but was overcome by hunger. The wolf went after the leg and it sank its teeth into the bloody meat. The wolf was caught off guard as a spear was thrown into its side. The wolf led out a high pitch cry. The spear hit the wolf’s heart killing it in a matter of seconds. A large tattooed man with scars on his face and a large axe appeared in the trees. He knelt by the wolf to make sure that it was not suffering. He noticed that this wolf was well fed for the time year but thought nothing of it. He stroked its head and said a prayer for wolf thanking it for its sacrifice. The man pulled the spear out of the wolf and carried it on his shoulders. The large man was a Viking berserker who wore only the pelts of a wolf into battle. After his previous battle he was hit in the face with sword leaving a horrible gash in his face that now left an intimidating scar across his face. The wolf pelt that he was accustomed to wearing was destroyed in battle and taken off of what his enemies assumed was his dead corpse. For whatever reason the Valkyries refused to take him Valhalla. He should be dinning with his fallen brothers in the great hall of the Gods but instead he healed and now has to find another pelt. He didn’t like killing the wolves for their pelts. A berserker rarely needs to kill more than one wolf. For with the pelt comes the spirit of that animal. They wear the pelts to conjure and embody the fierce spirit of that animal. This berserker believed that a wolf can only be hunted after the first full moon of Yule and before the next full moon called the wolf moon. Only then can the spirit of the wolf be claimed. He lost his pelt just after the spring solstice. Long has he waited to regain his strength for the chance to claim the spirit that will fuel him in his battles to come. When a berserker dies in battle, not only does he carry his own soul to Valhalla but also the spirit of the wolf. To lose his pelt was tragic and to be stripped of it was a dishonor for the spirit of the wolf was now lost to Niflheim. It was a great tragedy that he lived and that the wolfs spirit is now lost. The wolf that laid dead before him was a beautiful white wolf with a grey patch running down its back to the tip of its tail. He needed to enter Valhalla with the spirit of this wolf or he would be lost to the land of mist and fog never to dine and fight in the hall of the Gods.
Deep in the snow-covered woods a wild woman with a painted face prepares a stew in a small humble hut made of sticks, grass, and furs. There were strings of bones hanging from the ceiling and a big reindeer skull hanging above the entrance. She was a beautiful maiden with silver hair the color of the moon and big light brownish almost maroon colored eyes. The sun had just set and she realized that it was beginning to get dark outside. With a worried look on her face she peered through the trees. When she didn’t see or hear anything she began to howl like a wolf. She looked around walking a mile in each direction howling till her throat ached. The silver full moon began to rise reflecting off the snow and...
