Ylfing Lore

In mid summer the Dreamlands opened to Ýrr once more, but she found no real allure to them without Aess. She was hopeful to hear about his journeys—where he went, what he saw, what he learned. What she wanted to know most was, was he happy? Was it worth it? Was it everything he had hoped it would be? There was a fear there that they would miss this window of opportunity and she longed to stakeout the Dreamlands in hopes she would catch him, but she did not want to make the same mistake, abandoning her people to her folly, and so kept her attention on the daylight hours. If Aess returned, Vorias and Njóla would be quick to alert her. She could be no help there, but  Ylfing was not quite out of the woods yet. They ate their fill now, but winter would return. Ýrr was confident that, having made it through that winter, their hunting parties could only improve this year. The incomplete Odensjakt was still top of her mind, but they had yet to find the perfect pup, or wolf, to join them. Only then would Ýrr consider taking in a pup. Many still remained, though some had grown up and found new packs, and Þögn had welcomed her own litter.

"Have you considered having your own pups?" Njóla's voice interrupted innocently.

Odensjakt and the Valkyrja were out on hunts, but the rest of Ylfing gathered in Eldaskáli as night began to fall. Ýrr grouped off to the side with Melusine, watching the pups get out the last of their energy for the day.

Positioned to the chieftain's right side, Ýrr saw Melusine flick a cautious but concerned look in her direction. Ýrr just stared ahead as she responded, "I had them once."

"Oh." Though she could not see her, Ýrr could hear the quizzical tone in the scout's voice, pondering this information. She caught the look Melusine gave Njóla from the corner of her eye, followed by a much more solemnly understanding, "Oh."

"It was a long time ago. A lot has changed." Ýrr sat up to better look between the wolves, who adjusted their position to make it easier for her.

"I didn't mean to pry," Njóla said apologetically. "I meant it generally, to both of you. Vorias and I have been talking about it, depending on what this winter brings…"

"I had a litter in a previous pack," Melusine shared, which was news to Ýrr. She got the sense the she-wolf was trying to take the burden of the conversation off of her. While she appreciated the gesture all the same, Ýrr was surprised to find she didn't need it. "It feels like another lifetime. In a way, it was. I'm content with things as they are."

"Did you have a mate?" Njóla inquired as if in response to Melusine in particular, but looked at Ýrr.

Melusine shook her head, "He was their breeding male."

Njóla nodded and Ýrr hesitated to answer, not really knowing how. "In so many words, I suppose. Yes and no."

She mulled over how to explain as Njóla cocked her head. "I suppose we were, or would have been, had things been different. But when I think of mates, I think of Mjaðveig and Mógils. I think of you and Vorias, or Gæfa, Eldfríðr, and Hlífþrasa. We never had that affection. Or, I can't speak for him, but I did not have it."

"Then would you try again? For a mate, for a family?"

"I… never really thought about it. Would I consider having a litter, or would I want one? … Yes. But it's not that simple, is it? All of Ylfing are like my family. I don't hold any of them in that regard. But is that desire strong enough to turn to a stranger? … No, I wouldn't. But I don't see myself taking a mate either. I don't know that I can see another wolf that way. I have companionship in other forms that are, for me, enough."

"Who knows?" Njóla spoke with a hopeful encouragement, "The stars may still align."

When the cold returned with fall, so too did Aess. Ýrr was pleased to see his joy and hear his tales, though catching up on her last year made for a more somber story.  The conversation with Njóla had lingered in her mind, and she found herself asking him unexpectedly, "Did you ever consider having pups?"

She considered their lives to be parallel, reflections of the other. His answer felt somehow important, like it would carry some insight to her own. In his way, Aess did not answer immediately. Ýrr had become familiar with these silences. She understood they did not mean he had nothing to say—as Vorias often felt ignored by it, hurrying to fill them—but rather that he was processing, considering what he wanted to say, how to say it.

He tilted his head as he thought, a far away look in his eyes. "I've met many wolves in this last year. I suppose it's likely that I do."

His answer surprised her. "Really?"

"Before, I had never really put much stock in the idea of taking a mate. I had never connected with someone in that way—or never allowed myself to. So pups certainly never felt like part of my future. Granted, I suppose they still aren't."

"So you don't really… want them?" Ýrr was still reeling from how opposing his answer was. Aess lapsed into another pensive silence.

"I wouldn't go as far as to write off the possibility of encountering them again. They were visitors mostly, so seeking them out may prove complicated, but if they sought me out I would not be opposed."

It was Ýrr's turn to quietly consider her own thoughts. Aess gently prompted, "Where does this question come from?"

"Njóla and Vorias hope to start a family this year."

"And you?"

Ýrr found the pressing question out of character and she blinked at him in surprise. It lacked the same innocent curiosity as his first, knowing there was more under the surface and yet not waiting for her to divulge it. "It's made me think. I didn't… really recognize that it was something I wanted. Or I did, but I ignored it, much like you did with your travels. There were so many things I needed to put first. I put them before myself, and now I'm out of time."

"But you're not."

"Perhaps technically. I only really have one chance, but I never built the foundation for a family, so I've lost it. There was only one wolf whose pups I thought I would have, and I did. And I lost them."

"Did you love him?" This question was even more uncharacteristic than the last. Ýrr had hoped as she came to understand him that one day she would learn to read him, but Aess's expression was stoic as ever.

"… No. Or perhaps I did in my own way. I've never loved in the way that word is used. I have love for those in my life, and at one point I had love for him. But I was not in love. I admired him. I respected him. He… represented and embodied things that were important to me. That was enough."

"Is it enough for me?" It took a long silence for Ýrr to process his words, one Aess almost nervously filled. "I'm not a stranger, nor will I ask something from you that you cannot give. But I can give you a litter. Whether to call it a family is up to you. I may not be able to be there every day in their life, but if I can, I will meet them. As long as you can return here, I will always return to you… If that's enough."

Ýrr surprised herself to realize that it was. At her core, it felt fitting, it felt right that their paths, their stories, be joined permanently. Perhaps this had been the purpose all along. Not to run parallel, but intersect. After all, what one mold did a pair bond need to fit? The bond of siblingship, blood or otherwise, of friendship, of parent and child, of two wolves in love or more than two, how could one outweigh another? If there was any wolf with whom she shared an inexplicable bond, it would always be Aess. And so it felt just a bit like, in Njóla's words, the stars aligning.

Just as Aess had returned with the fall, the Dreamlands left Ýrr when winter took its place. But come mid winter she had something new to welcome: not a litter, but a single girl pup. Her fur was white as snow, but her strangely long tail—and, once they opened, her fluorescent blue eyes—showed her full parentage.

Ýrr hardly dared to breathe, like at any moment she would wake to find it had only been a dream. The sun rose and fell, the moon waxed and waned, and slowly Ýrr released her breath. As spring came she watched her grow and her personality show as she played and trained. Survived. She was more than she could ever ask for. Smart as she was strong, but never using these traits for cruelty. She was gentle and kind and peace-seeking, but not a pushover. She may have been a gift of the moon, inexplicably tied to the night, but to Ýrr she was her sun, the center of her world, always returning, always shining, and so she was named: Eygló.

Spring brought more to Ylfing in the form of a ruddy she-wolf, Járnsaxa, who proved to have just the strength of will and personality to be accepted by and join Odensjakt as a chaser. And, in the summer, two litters born the same day: Njóla and Eir's, fittingly so. And, like their mothers, two boy pups bonded quickly to each other rather than their own siblings. Njóla's son may not have had his father's eyes, but he had his quick paws and ever running mouth, as well as blue appendages that were unmistakably Cnitharian. The pair debated at length over names, which she came to discuss with Ýrr and Eir. In the end, an Ylfing name was chosen: Niði.

Eir's son, on the other hand, did have lucky eyes. And, much to everyone's surprise, could keep up with—in fact, outrun the little mixed breed. He was kinder even than Eir, in a sweeter, gentler way, not her quiet, steady calm. It was no surprise when his eyes earned him his name: Bileygr.

"I don't want to be a chaser!" Niði complained, a common occurrence. He and Bileygr were the standouts of their litters, just in time as Úlfheðnar made moves to retire members. Ýrr was increasingly aware of her own age, but never more than when she saw wolves she witnessed grow up face their own reckoning with time.

"What's wrong with chasing, little one?" Lofnheiðr asked, bemused, finding the comment more funny than offensive.

Hoárr, on the other hand, took it a bit more seriously. "It's an honor to be chosen by Úlfheðnar."

"Sure, I guess if I have to hunt I'd want to do it with you guys. But the Einherjar are cool too… Actually, they're kind of cooler. You're all 'legacy, family' and they're all 'capability, honor.' And if you have to rely on us, they'll definitely do better."

"Skills are learned. Experience is gained. You have the foundation, we will build you up." It warmed Ýrr's heart to see Ilmer as a grown, matured leader, and she knew Mógils would feel the same way.

"I'm honored," Bileygr piped up somewhat timidly, adding more quietly, "I think he's just upset he wasn't first pick."

"Chasing is boring! Anybody can chase. At least stalkers or finishers are kind of special."

"Anybody may be able to do anything, but that doesn't mean they can do it well. You're a little scrawny thing. Maybe you could take down a stoat or a hare, your speed will help you there," Mjöll teased, cuffing the pup with a large paw and sending him tumbling in a careful display of strength, "but a seal? Caribou? Sorry, pup, you won't be taking my job anytime soon, and Éldi's got his apprentice."

"Which you don't qualify to be," the stalker added gently. "We want the next generation of Úlfheðnar to be better than we were. We think you will be."

"Why couldn't I just be a scout? They're cool," Niði mumbled, crestfallen.

"You just want to follow Eygló," jibed Hafliði, Þögn's son and Éldi's apprentice.

Niði was clearly embarrassed by the comment and Ilmer called his attention to her, settling down to be at his level. "So you want to be cool?" The pup nodded. "And you think the Einherjar are cool?" The pup nodded again.

"Not that you aren't also," he added sheepishly.

"What makes them cool? Who?"

Niði only thought for a second before answering, "Böðmóðr and Böðvildr."

Ilmer nodded. "They're a force to be reckoned with. And they're not sharp stalkers. They're not large and powerful finishers. They're small Mexican wolves. And what else?"

"… Chasers. But he's Forulfr and lead chaser!"

"So am I," Ilmer reminded, amused, embarrassing the pup again.

"Yeah, but, like, they're cool together."

"You could be too." Ilmer sat back up, regarding Niði and Bileygr. "Úlfheðnar has always had a little healthy competition with the Einherjar. Friendlier at least than Odensjakt and the Valkyrja. You think they'll do better than you? Than be better. We will make you better. Make them your rivals. Become the next dynamic duo."

At this Niði finally seemed excited, but tempered it with a cheerful conviction, "Okay, we'll be cool. But one day I'll be chieftain, and then you'll have to replace me."

Ilmer raised a brow, casting a look to Ýrr. The chieftain chuckled. "I've made no decisions. But like Úlfheðnar, I want the best of Ylfing to become better. They should embody the best of what we are and the best of what we should be. And, for what it's worth, I believe this next generation is off to a wonderful start."

Just in time, before winter could begin in earnest, the search for the final wolf of Odensjakt came to an end. A large and powerful Frostmýrr native named Reykr made the perfect addition to take over the role of finisher from Hlífþrasa, allowing for the complete hunting party to do its best work at the time they needed it most. It proved to be another hard winter, and while Ylfing could hold its own, something felt… wrong. Long winters, dry summers, something had changed, or was changing, lurking under the surface of Ýrr's subconscious. But winter opened the Dreamlands, and her reunion with Aess, and his introduction to Eygló, put aside her worries, at least for now.

It felt peaceful and perfect to watch Niði zip around after Vorias, to hear Aess teach Eygló the second half of who she was. She accepted the bliss of those months for what they were, content in knowing that while her time here would inevitable come to an end, undoubtedly being the last time she would see this world, that Eygló's connection was stronger. Njóla was teaching her how to use it, to be able to visit what was equally her home, to continue to make up for time with her father.

Ýrr and Aess shared an unspoken understanding that this would be the last time they would be together, but they did not want it to overshadow what should be the joy of meeting his daughter. She knew one day she would have to say goodbye, but she didn't know when that would be. She only hoped she'd be ready before it was too late.

Aess was not the only wolf Ýrr had to prepare to say goodbye to. Melusine's health was failing, and so she spent her nights with him, and her days by the she-wolf's side in the herbalist's alcove.

"I hope I get to see one more spring. The equinox, the celebration."

The preparations were quickly underway, all of Ylfing eager for the end of winter. While nearing, Ýrr feared the day was still too far for her to hold together, let alone be able to make the journey. But she did not tell her this truth, but another one, "I hope you do too."

"It's interesting…" Melusine mused, her voice soft and wistful, "I've been in many packs, but I never felt as though I belonged. I never embraced them nor felt embraced by them. When we met, I was not sure how long I would stay. It was only as I watched you leave to fight for this place you called home that I realized I saw Ylfing as my home."

"We're forever indebted to you. I know I am. Life would have been very different if we had never met. Worse, I'm sure of it. I'll forever be grateful for everything you've done for Ylfing, and for the friend you've been to me."

"That sounds like a goodbye. I don't need that yet," Melusine teased lightly.

Ýrr swallowed hard and nodded firmly. "You're right, you don't."

Melusine got her wish, but it was no easy journey, as Ýrr suspected. But Ylfing rallied  behind her and assisted her so she too could participate and enjoy the celebration of spring. It seemed only a fair reward to have made it so long. For that moment the increasing strangeness of the world around them was forgotten, and so too was the overbearing presence of time coming to collect what it had gifted. When they returned to the dens for the night Melusine collapsed heavily to rest peacefully and did not wake up.

Days passed after the journey to the coast to say their farewells and Ýrr felt frozen, not sleeping, avoiding the Dreamlands, knowing what she needed to do but unable to do it. In the end, the fear of losing the opportunity outweighed her fear of taking it, and she woke hesitantly into that blue light for a final time.

Aess knew. She could see it in his face. Had she finally learned to read him? He pressed his head to hers and the pair remained in silence for a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity. Ýrr begged the words to come, but she couldn't find them. What do you say when you have to leave behind a part of you? How do you say goodbye when every fiber of your being wants to fight for just one more day, for a chance to go back and start over at hello, reliving it all again?

"So this is the end of our journey." It was Aess that broke the silence, pulling back to look at her. "My only regret is that I did not realize it had already begun until it was almost over. But you were the answer to my mistakes. I have you to thank for life itself, Eygló's and my own."

"Where is next for you?" Ýrr still could not bear to acknowledge an ending, though it pained her still to think about the final journey he would have that he would never tell to her.

"Here," he answered, to her surprise. "I don't know how much longer I have. I don't know how much more I could manage. But there's so much more I want to show and teach Eygló before that time is up, and I can only do that here."

"I look forward to hearing all about it from her."

"She's wonderful," Aess said warmly. "I knew she would be. I knew that you would make her into something wonderful, make her in your image."

Ýrr chuckled ruefully, shaking her head. "Funny, when I look at her, I see you. And I'm grateful that through her I will still have you, that we will still be part of each other."

"Nothing could ever change that."

"I don't want this to be the end," Ýrr whimpered, losing any hold on her emotions. Aess nuzzled her gently.

"Neither do I."

"But it's not," she said more firmly, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "This isn't the end of our journey. How could we end when we are part of something so much larger? This is not life run it's course. We're tied together by fate. We're bonded beyond time. Time may take me from your world, and, one day, both of us from our own, but it cannot take us from each other."

"I hope for that to be true." Aess spoke earnestly as Ýrr found herself under his intense gaze, that gentle gaze, for the last time. "Wherever time takes us, I'll do everything in my power to uphold my promise. I'll always return to you."

Horrors were released in spring, a collision of words that threatened to destroy their own. The strange and extreme weather patterns continued to worsen, affecting all inhabitants of the Frostmýrr. Ýrr continued to receive ever stranger and ever worsening reports from all the wolves of Ylfing—hunters, herbalist, scouts. One could not venture out of the den without an unsettling encounter. There were glimpses and tales of strange creatures lurking—monsters, Jötnar—and it seemed these changes were not unique to their home.

Other packs near and far were getting involved, taking sides, but Ýrr cautioned Ylfing to remain neutral and keep their distance. Being helpful did not earn them protection. Ýrr had found a litter in the forest—scared and weak and hungry, their mother long gone and an unsettling scent in the area. Thankfully, Eir had a new litter and could give these pups a chance to survive.

The survival of all of Ylfing was their priority, and it would be hard won. With the land in disarray, the reprieve of warmer months was limited, putting them in a precarious condition for when they would be plunged into winter again. There was often something… wrong with prey, caught or found, making them wary to consume it.

Ylfing was struck with its own illnesses. It seemed by the time Eir handled one, something and someone new was being brought into her care. Böðmóðr came down with distemper, touch and go for some time before ultimately recovering, but not before it spread through the Einherjar. When they were finally out of the woods, Ilmer was next to be afflicted, this time with cystitis, her age making her recovery slow. It proved good timing for a new addition who Eir took on to train as an herbalist: Chandrakanta, a red wolf that was more white than red, having journeyed far from the Mýrr to start a new life.

Finally, the third illness in as many months, Ýrr felt a sickness of body and in her heart. Welcoming summer meant saying goodbye to Aess. Eygló alerted her that he had passed and she wanted nothing more than to retreat into herself. Influenza gave her a momentary excuse, and she could see the fear in the faces of her people as they worried her aging body would be too fragile to recover. But she could not leave her people before giving them a new leader, and so when she had recovered enough from her illness Ylfing prepared to make a new chieftain.

It was their tradition that, to be considered worthy of the role, one must take down a bear. It took a smart and powerful wolf to accomplish this feat, and with Jötnar walking the earth, Ylfing would need a powerful leader. As it stood, none other than Ýrr had done it, and so any who aimed to be a contender would have to take on the task. Four wolves accepted the challenge: Þorri, Mist, Eygló, and Niði.

As a finisher, there was no question that Þorri was strong, certainly the strongest contestant. But he was more than just brawn. He always had a good head on his shoulders, only growing wiser as he matured, able to not just look to logic and knowledge but think creatively.

Formidable and fast, friendly and well liked by all, Mist was a well rounded choice, and her legacy as Kalda's daughter made her a popular one. But Ýrr knew she was no leader. She may be able to win the fight, but her heart was not in it, cajoled by the expectation of others.

Ýrr feared the same for her own daughter. She saw a lot of herself in Eygló. So mature for her age, always willing to do and be what her people need, and yet still so young. Would she lose sight of who she was, what she wanted, if she was forced to fill her mother's mold?

Niði was younger still, hardly a yearling. As much as the wolves of Ylfing varied, he always stood out as somewhat of a black sheep. Only his own mother, with their shared blue fur, came close to looking as odd as him—especially from those in Ylfing who had never seen the Dreamlands or a Cnitharian wolf. Even Eygló's unusual eyes and proportions, as well as the painted markings of a Pherris wolf she wore as a connection to her father, was not enough to set her apart from the others. Beyond the physical, he was not as well liked as the other potential chieftains. He was boisterous and childish—he was a child. Ýrr did not know if he truly wished to lead, or if this was just a bid for acceptance.

"Niði, my dear, please, don't do this. You're not like them," Njóla pleaded softly with her son.

"I am Ylfing, am I not? And all of Ylfing has the right to be chieftain."

"Look at them. We aren't the same. We may be Ylfing, but this challenge was not designed with us in mind."

"You think they won't follow me." It was hard to tell if this was a statement or a question. "But Ýrr was not like the chieftains before her, and she did it."

"She may be a she-wolf, but she was still like those before her. I'm not worried about how you'll be as a leader, I'm worried you'll die trying."

"It's time," Ýrr interrupted gently. Njóla's panicked eyes looked between her chieftain and her son as he went to join the wolves going on this expedition.

"You can't let him do this…"

"I cannot stop him, but I will protect him. In my day, you returned with proof of your victory or you died trying, knowing you could not return with the shame of failure. I do not want this to be a death sentence. Mjöll and Herja will be joining me. They cannot interfere in the fight unless a challenger yields, but should things go awry they will be able to put up a better fight than I can at this age. I would like the presence of a scout as well. Yours."

"Mine? I thought Tulipa—"

"Tulipa's final day is near. She would not want it to be known, but she could not make the journey or intervene in the fight."

"I can't intervene."

"You won't need to. Other than myself, you know the land best. Help us find our challenge and, in the unlikely event it comes down to it, return for help." Ýrr lowered her voice, adding, "And you can keep an eye on Niði. Who knows? He may surprise you."

Þorri and Eygló were the first to make their kills. Mist was relieved and eager enough to step back, ready to return to the dens without her own, but Niði insisted they continue. When they tracked down a bear, he hesitated at first as he had the previous times, but no one was left to jump in at that moment. When the bear charged he lost the chance to decide what he wanted to do, forced to act quickly and dodge. Thankfully, he was fast, and he tried to use this to his advantage. The bear was lumbering and slow in comparison and he could easily keep clear of its attacks. But the bear was clever. It knew it could not keep up with him, but it knew it did not need to. Niði would return to attack, and so it only needed to hold its ground.

Niði had watched the previous battles closely and attempted to use similar tactics. Getting around the bear was easy enough to attack from behind, where he could not be reached by its fangs and claws. But he was too small, too light, too weak to take it down, to grab onto its flesh and tear into its neck. The bear flung Niði off as easily as an adult wolf shook off a tussling pup.

Relentless, Niði returned time and time again to the same result. It was clear his energy was draining as he overworked himself, the bear no different to when they started. In a final summoning of strength, Niði launched himself onto its back one more time, desperately clinging on. The bear shook and thrashed but he did not come loose. It reared, and he clung harder, scrabbling to try to reach its neck. Still on its hind legs, the bear was unencumbered by his added weight, stepping and twisting itself to slam its back against a boulder, sandwiching Niði between them. He crumpled to the ground.

"You must stop this," Njóla pleaded.

"He has not yielded," Ýrr told her simply.

"He can no longer fight! Isn't that enough?"

"He is still trying."

Dazed, Niði was feebly trying to get to his feet as the bear turned again to face him. The other wolves looked anxiously between each other and to their chieftain for direction.

"Niði, yield." It was Eygló to break the tense silence. But he did not. He made it onto all four paws, but they were splayed too far as he swayed woozily. The bear charged at him for a final time.

A dark flash, Njóla launched herself onto its rump, front claws raking down its pelt. The bear reared with a roar, swinging around, forgetting Niði. The she-wolf held on with all her strength, digging into its back as she climbed, back claws tearing in her scramble. But she too was sent flying, and the bear chased after her. Njóla wriggled on her back, the wind knocked out of her, trying to get to her paws. But the bear was upon her first. She tried to kick, but the bear grabbed her paw in its mouth and with a crunch she yelped.

"Mom!" Niði howled.

As the bear pulled and shook its head, Njóla kicked frantically with her free limb, scratching its eye, its face, and finally its neck. Again and again she tore into its flesh until it stumbled back, blood pouring from the wound, to fall into a heavy heap.

There was a stunned silence as all waited to see if the bear would get up, but the only movement was the growing pool of blood. With permission from their chieftain, the other wolves moved in to check on and assist the injured two to their feet. Amongst the shock and concern, Ýrr was the only one who seemed pleased.

"Congratulations, Njóla. You've proven yourself eligible to be Ylfing's next chieftain."

Ýrr knew her decision in her heart, but she did not announce it right away. Niði made a speedy recovery, back to himself within a matter of days, if not now with a slightly wounded pride. Njóla's recovery would be longer. Tulipa passed suddenly but not unexpectedly, and so Ylfing's attention was temporarily shifted to mourning. Njóla's broken foot was nowhere near healed, but she was resolute in making the journey to say farewell to her fellow scout.

"Ylfing could not have asked for a more dedicated wolf than Tulipa. She served us from her first day to her last, in whatever role she was needed. Though most of you are too young to remember, when Tulipa came to us she was a stranger, a foreigner. Except to her, we were the outsiders. She was able to guide us through her homeland and, when the time came to return to ours, Tulipa was ready to lay down her life to make it hers. She may have always been a loner, and while some may say that made her difficult, I believe it made it that much more invaluable, that much more of an honor that she chose us. Tulipa may not have been born of Ylfing, but she will always be Ylfing, and it is my honor to be here to send her off."

As a chorus of howls responded to Ýrr's words, she waited for them to settle before speaking again. "But I will not be here much longer, as much as I wish I could. My time draws near, and so Ylfing must begin anew."

The wolves of Ylfing looked between each other in confusion and surprise, but none dared to speak, raptly listening to Ýrr.

"On this day we say goodbye to one scout who chose Ylfing and served it dutifully however it needed her, I believe it's only fair to recognize another scout who has been and done the same." All eyes turned to Njóla. "I always believed it to be fate that we had met, although at first it was not clear to me how. When the gods brought you back to us, I thought I understood. I believed it to be personal, what we could give each other. As Ylfing's chieftain, I was able to provide you what you had lost: safety, a home, a place to belong. And your ability to traverse the Dreamlands allowed me to finally close a chapter on my fate and begin a new one with my daughter.

But I realize now as I have watched you that you have given more to Ylfing than just to me. You strive for our betterment, and take an active role in building that. It's more than a sense of duty that obligates you to help others, but a desire. It's what I lacked, and it's what I believe Ylfing needs in its next chieftain.

There's a lot of focus on a strength of body, strength of will, strength of mind. But what of the strength of heart? The strength of a pack should not be solely down to its chieftain. They must support and balance each other. You overcame insurmountable odds in defense of what you love. You did not shy away from the fight simply because you were weaker than your opponent, and it's that spirit, that principle, that the strongest of Ylfing can respect and rally behind to fight with you and for you. You are wise and level headed, but you also respect the intelligence of others. You hear all equally, value all equally, and will always take their counsel into consideration. But while those with power and those with knowledge can protect and guide a leader, it's your spirit, your heart that cannot be made up for. No one can love your people for you, make you want the best for them. But you rose to the occasion. That is what the gods brought us. And so, Njóla, all I ask is that you continue to do and be exactly as you are as Ylfing's next chieftain."

Njóla looked uncertain, uneasy under the intense eyes of Ylfing. She awkwardly hobbled forward to speak quietly, "You don't leave much opportunity to refuse."

"Do you wish to?"

"I… am honored by your high opinion of me, but I don't know that I am as well suited as you think. I never aspired to this, and I worry about my ability to live up to what you want of me. I was not raised among you. I do not know what must be done. I do not know that I can carry it out if I am crippled—"

"Eir has said only time will tell. You made it here, didn't you? I meant what I said, you have what Ylfing needs, and Ylfing can support you in your areas of weakness. I did not wish to lead myself, and I think that allowed me to have… a different outlook or approach to it. But you will have me, in the time I have left, to teach you. You will never be alone in this. You chose Ylfing. Let them chose you. You don't serve by blood or obligation, but through a chosen love for them. As much as I have tried to change, I am stuck in the past. Ylfing needs new eyes, new air breathed into it. You began your life here anew. I believe you were meant to bring Ylfing into a new era."

Ýrr held Njóla's gaze, looking deep into her white eyes. She could see the she-wolf searching in her own ice blue eyes. Finally, she gave a small but firm nod.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I… accept. I will wear the pelt."

As they journeyed home, Ýrr walked with Eygló, who walked slow to match her aged mother's pace. Though more forthcoming, like her father she did not wear her heart on her sleeve, and Ýrr found it difficult to tell at times what was on her mind. "Are you disappointed?"

Eygló did not look at her mother, but it was not evasive. The meaning of the question was clear and she took a thoughtful pause. "Surprisingly, no."

Ýrr nodded slowly, but felt a deep relief. "I believe you are worthy and capable of leading, but I don't want you to live my life. I want you to have the chance to live your own. I don't want your identity to be tied to mine. If you decide you wish to lead, I want it to be your decision, not one pushed on you by others. I want them to respect and follow you for who you are, not your relation to me. But I can't change the fact that you are my daughter—and I wouldn't—and that means that they will look at you as me for guidance, whether you support my decision. These are unstable times, and it pains me to add to it, but I don't get to chose how long I walk this earth. The world right now is unlike anything we've seen before. I do not have the answers, but they trust that I do. When I am gone, Ylfing will need a united front."

"I trust in Njóla. I believe she was a good choice. She may not be you, but I think she will make a good leader in her own way." Eygló looked to her mother now with her father's eyes. "Ylfing's survival does not rest on your shoulders. You've nurtured not just me but all of us to love it as you do. We will take care of. We will protect it. Ylfing will survive, as it always does."

Ýrr would make the journey to the coast twice more that fall, for the passing of Éldi and then Ilmer, before it would be her turn for the wolves of Ylfing to say farewell to. But she was at peace with the thought, knowing that she was leaving Ylfing in good care. Though the future was uncertain, she held in her heart one thing she knew to be true: while she may not be there to see it, the sun would shine again on Ylfing when winter passed, because Ylfing would survive, as it always did.

Njóla felt wrong standing before Ylfing rather than with them. The journey to the coast had been hard on her leg and she was tired, but she needed to appear strong, solid. The bear pelt she wore felt like a heavy burden, but it was not heavier than her heart.

"Today we say goodbye to a wolf who has made a lasting impact on every one of us, and to Ylfing forever. Many of us owe her our life, myself included. I could stand here and speak to all she's done, to who she was, but you all already know, and that's not what she would have wanted. Instead, I will speak to what she wanted for Ylfing. No one could have loved us more dearly or fought harder for us, and it was all because she wanted our futures to be better than our pasts. She wished for a unified pack, supporting each other, dedicated to the survival and flourishing of the whole. She wished for home and family and love. And we have those things. She has given them to us and we have found them in each other. Though we say goodbye to Ýrr today, we will carry on her legacy. I may not have been born of you or raised in these lands, but I share in Ýrr's vision for the future, and it is one I want to build not as your chieftain, but together as Ylfing."

Her first few months as chieftain were hard. It was another brutal winter as the world was still turned on its head. The cold made her foot ache, but she couldn't let it stop her from patrolling and carrying out her duties. If there were monsters or oddities in their territory, she needed to know, because now it was her responsibility to take care of it.

Secretly, she wished to be more involved. They all wanted them gone, for their lives to return to normal. If working with them could make that happen, wouldn't that be a good thing? But in Ylfing fashion, it had been Ýrr's final major decision as chieftain to stay out of it, and so Njóla felt a duty to uphold that. But she wanted to be true to herself too. Almost every day she found creatures in desperate states, and she tried to help them if and how she could. Often times she could not do as much as she wanted without taking resources from Ylfing, and it broke her heart more each time.

On one such patrol in the height of winter Njóla heard a whimpering, a common occurrence now as animals big and small suffered in nature's disasters. But she quickly realized it was a distinct and familiar sound: pups. She ran faster than her leg could handle and it screamed at her, but she ignored it. Shivering in the snow, she found four red pups, hungry and alone. They had clearly not been eating well, and their fur was soaked from the snow. They looked unusually small to Njóla and clearly lacked the proper coat to handle the weather here.

The pups cried louder and moved toward her as she looked around. There was a partial trail as the pups had plundered their way into the snow. Following it, she saw it led to a cave. There was a sad nest and the scent of a wolf, but it was old, easily a day. Stumbling through the snowbank on her crippled leg, Njóla carried the pups one by one back to the cave and curled around them. She didn't know what she should do about them, but she knew if she didn't get them warmed up they wouldn't make it. She licked them vigorously to dry them while they attempted to nurse from her, but she could not feed them.

Sigrdrífa had a litter, she would be able to. But eight puppies would be a lot to care for, in winter no less, and these puppies clearly needed a lot of care. How could she even get them back to the den? They could not make the journey themselves. Whether she took them one by one or left them here to bring help, that would still mean leaving at least some of them behind. Would they be safe until she returned?

Njóla was running through options in her mind when she heard a short, panicked warning bark. She looked to see a small, thin wolf in the entrance to the cave. Even with all her fur standing on end she was smaller than Njóla. Her large ears and narrow muzzle reminded her of Chandrakanta, though this red wolf was actually red.

"Are these your pups?" She asked the wolf gently, moving slowly to reveal them. They whined in protest as they lost the warmth of her long fur.

Njóla watched relief flood the she-wolf's face as she started toward them, before her eyes snapped back to her and she hesitated. "They were in the snow. I wasn't sure that anyone was coming back for them. They're dry and warm now, but they're hungry. Will you feed them?"

The she-wolf's teeth clenched and she looked away in frustration. Njóla understood and had guessed as much from her thin frame. She couldn't.

"What's your name?" When she didn't get a response, she offered, "I'm Njóla."

Njóla didn't think the she-wolf was going to respond again and started to speak when she finally answered, "Ash."

"Ash? Do you have a pack, Ash?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "Not anymore."

"You're on your own out here? But you don't look like you're from here."

"The cryptids… my pack… it's gone. I just kept going north, trying to flee from them, but… they're everywhere. Even here, where they say nothing can live. I thought I had found a new pack, but when I fell pregnant they decided I cost more food than they could spare. I wanted to go home, but all the snow… I got stuck. We got stuck. I didn't mean to be gone so long, I was trying to hunt…"

"Go to your pups," Njóla told her softly, standing and stretching stiffly. "I have a pack. They can be safe, warm. When spring comes, you can make the journey home."

Ash looked at her incredulously and she told her, "Just wait here and I'll return with help."

"Thank… Thank you."

Njóla just smiled as she went back out into the cold. It felt good, it felt right to do this. And she knew in her heart Ýrr would have done the same thing.

"If no one else will say it, I will. We're bringing in just enough food to keep us fed each day as it is. We have no room for charity," Gæfa huffed.

Ash had settled in to Húnskali and Sigrdrífa did her best to give her pups full bellies, but she had her own pups to consider. And Gæfa was right, they did not have the food to spare to give Ash as much as she needed.

"I will not let Ylfing starve for a stranger, but if I can save them from starving too, I will. I understand it is upsetting to worry about food, but no one has gone hungry yet. We've had harder years, and we're doing better than most."

"Because of us. The hunters. We're going out there into chaos risking life and limb every day to bring back food. What are you catching on that leg?"

Eygló growled at Gæfa. "That is your chieftain. You're out of line."

"It's fine." Njóla kept her voice level. "I understand your concerns. I'm not dismissing them. Ylfing is indebted to its hunters, but we all play our part. What good would it do if I claimed the herbs I brought Chandrakanta and forbid her to use them? Or if she refused to share the medicine she made? We cannot think like that. We all benefit from each other."

"Well, she's only taking."

"I can hunt." Ylfing turned in surprise to look at Ash. "I was a chaser before. I'm fast, I promise. I can earn my keep. If my pups are safe here, I can join and hunt."

Gæfa looked over the she-wolf's weakened frame skeptically. "Not with me, if at all. No hunting parties are open."

There were some looks to Böðmóðr and Böðvildr. They were the oldest chasers, but they did not budge. One would not retire without the other, and they were fighting hard despite their age to keep the Einherjar performing at its best.

"The pups will need more eyes on them than Glœðir can manage on her own." Hoárr stepped forward to bring their attention around to him, but looked at Mjöll. "I've taught Niði and Bileygr what they need. The time is fast approaching for an all new Úlfheðnar. Whether this is permanent or temporary, if you will lead them, she can have my spot."

The younger wolves of the party looked surprise, but Mjöll just nodded. They knew his retirement was approaching, but hadn't expected it to come so suddenly.

"Okay," the finisher said to him before looking at the she-wolf. "Ash, was it? Welcome to Úlfheðnar. Welcome to Ylfing."

As winter wore on, Ash and her pups recovered, and she proved a valuable hunter and a good fit for Úlfheðnar. She was reliable and determined to show her worth, and was a steady presence to help Mjöll keep the rowdier young boys in line.

When spring came, Ylfing had to start thinking about the future. Good hunting was slow to return, but many of their hunters were aging, working harder than they could handle to not jeopardize Ylfing's food supply. They couldn't put off replacing them indefinitely. But word got around that they were managing to sustain themselves, and so some new hunters found them.

Þorri was the first of his siblings to retire, replaced by a new finisher, Esja. Böðvildr had a litter and retired to spend her time with them, leaving her brother behind with a new chaser, Skírlaug. But there were more roles to fill, and so Njóla had to turn elsewhere. From the mountains, a Lunar adolescent given the name Reginleif was soon ready to allow Herja to join her half-brother, and a girl pup given the name Glyrna was claimed by Úlfheðnar as Mjöll's replacement given her lucky eyes matching their history with Hoárr and Bileygr. But Njóla was looking even further ahead and brought in an intelligent young adolescent given the name Móheiðr. She knew the importance of a good stalker, and the time would come to replace them sooner than later, and they could not risk finding themselves unprepared.

It felt like things were looking up, but disaster struck before summer could bring them true peace of mind. Back at the dens, they felt the rumbling of the earth nearby, but this was not particularly uncommon. Ylfing would not think anything of it until Odensjakt returned from their hunt. At a passing glance nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Reykr was dragging a large carcass. Járnsaxa was ushering Gæfa ahead of her. But there was only three, and they carried with them an intense smell of meat.

"Help," Reykr huffed, breathing heavily, and let go of the carcass. "We need help."

"Someone get Chandrakanta and Eir," Járnsaxa said quickly as she moved to support her Forylgr when she stumbled.

There was a lingering moment of confusion as Ylfing processed the sight before them and then everything sprung into action. It was not a carcass Reykr brought, at least not in the way they had expected. It was Eldfríðr. She was almost unrecognizable, her fur fused to her skin.Melted. Upon closer inspection, the other three also had blistered skin, but not singed like fire. Under the smell of their flesh was a different, toxic smell.

Chandrakanta rushed to Eldfríðr immediately, but soon shared a heavy look with Eir. Bringing the wolves to the herbalist's alcove, Njóla was quick to follow. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Eir just shook her head slowly as she and Chandrakanta tended to the wolves of Odensjakt. Járnsaxa seemed mostly fine. Reykr's muzzle and paws were burned and he was still breathing heavily. Gæfa's breathing too was unusual and she did not respond or acknowledge anything going on around her.

"What happened?" Njóla asked gently. "Where's Hlífþrasa?"

This set Gæfa off, wailing and shaking. Reykr laid his ears flat and closed his eyes. Járnsaxa got up to meet her chieftain, gesturing for them to move somewhere more private.

"What happened?" Njóla asked again, quietly despite being out of earshot.

"There was an earthquake and…"

Njóla nodded. "We felt it."

"I've seen geysers there before… but this one was different. The ground just crumbled and all this water shot out… but the color was wrong, the scent was wrong. It made the air hard to breathe and our eyes run. I couldn't see what happened to her, but she was in the water. When the ground split, it was under Hlífþrasa. I ran…" She hesitated, choked up, and Njóla nodded reassuringly.

"There's nothing wrong with that. You may not be alive if you hadn't."

Járnsaxa took a deep breath. "I ran, but the water poured over Eldfríðr. Reykr went back in to get her out, but we couldn't see Hlífþrasa. Gæfa wanted to find her but we couldn't see, couldn't breathe. We needed to get Eldfríðr back, we needed to get her back…"

"We'll do everything we can to find her," Njóla promised. "Just rest. Let Chandrakanta take care of you."

She pressed against her comfortingly as they returned to the herbalist before breaking away to speak to Eir, posing a simple but loaded question. "Eldfríðr?"

The ex-herbalist just shook her head slowly and somberly again. "There's nothing to be done other than to prepare a speech to say goodbye."

Njóla closed her eyes tightly, holding them shut for a long moment. "And the others?"

"It may take time, but I believe they will recover, at least from whatever they were exposed to. The after affects, well, time will tell. Something seems wrong with Gæfa's eyes, but she's in shock, it's hard to tell. Reykr will need care to prevent infection of his wounds. That will be the real test."

In the days that followed, Gæfa's eyes worsened. Or, rather, as she slowly came out of shock she was able to relay to them the true extent of the damage: she had completely lost her vision on one side. When she learned of Eldfríðr's fate she shut back down, turning catatonic. Reykr attempted to comfort her as he struggled with infection, but he was young and strong and Chandrakanta was hopeful. Njóla spent that time with Járnsaxa going over the site, trying to find a body to bring home.

Her hope soared when she spotted tufts of light fur buried under rocks. Calling Járnsaxa over, they began to dig. Immediately it could not have been right, but they were caught up in what they wanted to be true. Járnsaxa was not certain of the exact location, but they had broadened their search too far. Not to mention Hlífþrasa should have been burned by the boiling water, but this wolf was fine. There was a whine and twitch of limbs as they worked to uncovered it, and when it's face was revealed it was instantly clear this was a stranger. More than that, the antlers sprouting from its head made it a monster. The she-wolves stumbled back in shock as the creature feebly scrabbled to its feet. Even trapped for days without food, it was easily the largest wolf she had ever seen. If it could be called a wolf. Once freed, it became clear it did not just possess antlers, but wings.

In her shock Njóla did not immediately notice the panicked, frenzied look in its eyes, and it attacked unexpectedly. She yelped in surprise and Járnsaxa was quick to her rescue. Even the large Interior Alaskan wolf was smaller than this beast, but it was already weak and they were able to quickly subdue it. As it backed down, its long, heavy coat bristled as it eyed them uncertainly, but it seemed to realize they were not out looking for trouble.

"What are you?" Njóla asked it, dumbfounded. "Are you a wolf?"

"It's a Jötunn," Járnsaxa insisted beside her, her fur equally ruffled. "We should kill it."

The creature bared its teeth, but stopped when Njóla insisted, "Wait. I have questions and I want answers. I need to know if this chaos will end."

"I don't trust it. Ýrr warned to keep our distance, and it's gotten us through just fine."

"We cannot keep waiting for things to return to normal if they won't. Do you know anything?" The creature regarded her cooly and Njóla pressed, "Why are you here? Can you speak?"

"Why would I speak to you?" The chieftain was surprised to actually get a response.

"We saved you."

"And you would just as soon kill me over things you don't understand."

"Then help me understand."

The creature fell quiet again, watching her.

"You're weak. Obviously hungry. Probably injured?" She flicked her eyes to the wings it held awkwardly. "I can offer shelter, healing, food, if you can offer me answers."

"You'd take it back to the dens?" Járnsaxa gasped.

"It can do nothing in its current state." Njóla looked firmly into the strange wolf's eyes. "And if it tries anything there, it really will not stand a chance."

She turned to leave, Járnsaxa turning a quick glance at the creature before following. And, after a longer hesitation, it followed too. Ylfing was in an uproar over their shocking guest brought to the herbalist's alcove. Njóla waited until it had eaten and its injuries were checked before returning.

"Will you be answering my questions now, or will we be running you out… or worse?"

The creature licked its muzzle slowly, staring so intensely it made Njóla uneasy, but she held firm. "And they were?"

"Why are you here?"

"Just because you never noticed does not mean we never were."

"You're telling me you're from this world?"

It did not bother to answer, looking annoyed, like it found her questions trivial and obvious.

"Then why have things changed so drastically and suddenly?"

"It was not sudden if you were paying attention."

"Fine, we've had some hard years leading up, but still nothing like this. Why?"

"The Merged."

"Pardon?"

The creature huffed impatiently. "The Merged wish for chaos and control. This is them winning, the balance being disrupted. But the scales are being balanced once more."

"… Does that mean it's going to end?"

"Yes. The Kinfolk will restore the land and go back into hiding. But who's to say how long that peace will last?" It shrugged casually, like they were talking about about a preference between caribou or moose, not the prospect of peace and safety or destruction and devastation. It made Njóla feel ill and she had to leave, hoping it was telling the truth so she wouldn't have to speak to it ever again.

Through summer and fall the world did seem to be settling, but Ylfing still found itself disrupted. The creature remained with them, its mending wing still unable to fly. It offered little on itself, but had valuable information on the monsters, which to avoid and how, places to keep clear of. As Ylfing spoke amongst themselves there were two versions of a name for it: the svanr and the hjörtr. In the end, Hjörtr won out. 

But Hjörtr became the last of her concerns as they faced far too many journeys to the coast. Though they never did retrieve her body, they said goodbye to Eldfríðr and Hlífþrasa together. Their first trip that summer was for Lofnheiðr, and Böðvildr a month later. Böðmóðr was never the same and followed his sister soon after. Finally, Hoárr passed in the first month of fall, but they had one bright moment as Járnsaxa welcomed a litter. Njóla couldn't help but be nervous facing the new year. There were many changes coming to Ylfing, and she prayed they could keep up with the changing world around them.