Spirals

“Greetings.” He muttered to the ground, his eyes careful to avoid the woman’s in case he offended her in some way. “I wish to join your Drótt.” He said simply, the musical lilt of his accent displaying his heritage .“I am Sten Isneven, son of Heimdall.” He explained, pausing for her to absorb the information. Many wolves didn’t believe that the gods had children, that they were simply children born out of wedlock, but the Hexe that had presided over his birth had assured his mother he was god touched. It was the only way a white wolf such as herself with orange eyes could give birth to a black cub with blue eyes.

“I am versed in raiding, battling, and…” He hesitated, clearly unsure if he should proceed or not. “I am practiced in Seiðr as well.”