A Wolf's Call

The Cold

Be it fate, fury, or curse it was on this day that Skjöll was chosen to lead the hunt. He rose from his small cot and sighed heavily, the weight of the pack bearing down on his shoulders, "Why me. Of all the hunters they chose the warrior. What are they expecting to find? Were-elk? Plus we have rifles. Why must we shift and hunt like our ancestors...why must I crawl into my cursed pelt once more and bare my fangs?" At that a light knock came from his door and a beautiful she-wolf entered her hair a chocolate mahogany and her eyes a light hazel, she was the Alpha's daughter, "Because my dad asked you too. And why do you talk so proper Skjöll? We don't live in the 1800's..." She giggled and poked him on the chest playfully, "I respect my roots. The name Skjöll is and honorable one and I try to live up to it." "I don't see what's so important about it. It sounds kinda funny and its hard to pronounce." "Skjöll is the sky wolf who chases the sun chariot through the sky. It's Norse mythology." "But we aren't vikings. Now are we?" He sighed, "I suppose not. But I Do believe its time to hunt. Goodbye. Stella." At that Skjöll left, some say that because he left to great snow came. Others just say he went off to chase the chariot in the sky...