A collection of stories

Intro to... The Adventures of Fenris, The Undead Asgardian Space Wolf!

Deep in the mountains of Asgard, a female wolf with a pelt as black as tar, bared her snow white teeth and let out a bone chilling growl. As if it wasn't already cold enough in the blizzard.

The pack leader snarled in return. Fenris was determined to leave no matter what they did, but the pack leader had plans to put her back into her place.

The alpha launched himself forward, intending to land on top of the she-wolf. But Fenris wasn't having it. She jumped to the side and lashed out with her claws, scraping them along the alpha's ash gray pelt, staining it red with blood and tarring out clumps up fur.

The alpha howled, his enraged cry of pain intermingling with that of the freezing wind. He turned and affixed the rebellious she-wolf with a gaze promising much worse than death.

She met it with a cool gaze and a challenging bark. Bring it, she taunted. There was nothing he could do to stop her from going where she desired.

He let out another howl. The fight was beginning in earnest now, there would be no turning back for either of them. Her penalty for loosing would be death, and freedom would be her prize. If she won.

Snarling furiously, they charged forward. Head-butting first, then biting in and lashing out with their claws, seeking any weak points or soft spots.

Snow and fur flew, blood spattered the ground, staining the snow. The alpha was larger and he mistook this as that he had the upper hand. It was a mistake that would become his undoing.

Fenris wasn't interested in the old traditions of fighting, she wasn't interested in becoming the new alpha either. So beating the current one held very little meaning to her. Just beyond the mountain peaks of her home, one gold spire glimmered in the sunlight through the winter storm.

Smaller and quicker, she darted around the alpha, biting at his legs and lashing out at his sides and warm underbelly. His blood pooled into the snow, staining it crimson and steaming as it hit.

He was weakening. The wounds she inflicted may have been smaller than the ones he'd inflicted upon her, but there were far more of them. While she only had a few, he had hundreds. Her victory was near, she could sense it.

Her time finally came when the alpha left an opening and she took it. Latching her powerful jaws onto his throat and crunching down, he was too weak to do anything but struggle in vain.

Just before he'd faded completely, she dropped his body onto the crimson snow and took off towards the high rising mountains in the distance.

Howls from the pack members rose into the air. They weren't mourning, no, they were hunting. She'd broken the rules, betrayed the pack and fled before the alpha was dead. They would hunt her to the edges of mountains, and take her life if they ever got the chance.

Such was the way things went for many of the rogues that disobeyed the pack, but she was determined to escape. She would be safe within the city of Asgard, at the side of her Mistress.

Her blood leaving droplets of crimson on the pale wight snow as she charged onwards, her breath puffing out in small warm clouds as her lungs worked and her heart pounded mightily within her powerful chest. She focused solely on making her way up the steep mountainside.

The most proficient hunters of her former pack caught up easily, but catching her was much harder. They attempted to drag her down by biting onto her back legs, but she kick them every time, opening wounds on their sensitive snouts.

Yelping, they decided that their first tactic wasn't working, so they tried to tackle her to the ground. She just leaped out of the way and continued charging up the mountain.