The Last Werewolf (Vidar #1) | ONC2021 Grand Winner

horse.lover6 is a troll

Vidar stretched his arms, fighting back a yawn. His muscles clacked. As he slurped hot coffee from his snowman mug, one eye gazed at the small standing calendar on the counter. May was long dead and buried, June already a week old. 

Why he even looked at the date, he didn't know. He didn't need that ochre dot in the right upper corner to tell him the full moon was only a day away. He could feel it in his bones, a primal instinct that bubbled beneath the surface. His nails were growing, his hair thicker. The granola bar he had devoured as an afternoon snack had tasted like paper. He craved meat, red, raw meat, the blood still warm as he set his teeth. The juicy taste of a young hare or rabbits. Or a roe deer, if he was lucky.

But this time, he would spend the night doing more than hunting and running the breath out of his lungs. He had a mission. Find Isegrim and get him to talk about Reynaert. If anyone had any information on the sly fox's whereabouts, it would be the grumpy grey wolf who had vowed never to rest until either Reynaert was dead or had learned manners, whichever would come first.

Unlike Reynaert, Isegrim wasn't a wanderer. Not anymore. Centuries ago, the wolf had relentlessly pursued the fox, from the Black Forest in Germany to the Pyrenees Mountains between France and Spain, and back to the Lowlands. In more recent centuries, Vidar and Isegrim had both shared the duty of keeping the legend of the Wolf of Waasland alive, tolerating each other on their territory out of mutual respect. It had been years since Isegrim had last crossed the Schelde. The old grey wolf resided in a forest near the Fort of Lilo, or what was left. More a grove than a forest.

Isegrim had found peace with his small territory. After all, Reynaert's wild foxing days were long over too. Easier to keep track of him.

Vidar took another sip of coffee as he leafed through the farmer union's monthly magazine. Nothing on foxes or dead chickens, either.

Such a shame he could only talk to Isegrim as a wolf. The days of yore when animals spoke so long ago, he barely remembered ever being able to do so.

"Vidar," Kira chirped. She sat in the armchair, the back of her bright yellow shirt facing him, speaking to him through her phone's screen. One arm stretched. "My viewers have a question for you."

He hummed, glancing down and pretending to read the magazine.

"No thinking, if you could have dinner with any fictional character—who would it be and why?"

His brothers' names were the first he thought of, fictional to the human mind. He would tell Balder how he avenged his death, then drink mead until one of them (definitely Balder) passed out. Or perhaps he should eat ribs with Thor and give his brother's phenomenal strength back. Ragnarök was long over—he no longer needed the power to slay mighty beasts. Then there was Loki, who, despite the lack of blood connection, was more a brother than the others because he too was half-giant. Besides, the trickster was hilarious when his schemes didn't affect you. Though, he would whack Loki's soul out of his body for cursing him with his son's affliction. Not an easy pick.

"You're thinking," Kira reprimanded him.

"Reynaert," Vidar said quickly.

"And why?"

"Because I'm curious to learn what antics he's up to these days."

"Thank you, Vidar, for your interesting choice." She held the screen closer to her face. "Tell me—who would you like to have dinner with and why?"

Kira stopped filming and fumbled on her phone, quickly putting it down on her lap. Her fingers raced across the screen while Vidar sold a lottery ticket to a student in a suit, which was not an uncommon phenomenon in January, June, and September when the local university conducted exams. Wearing a suit was a tradition as old as the university itself.