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Tag Archives: Fenrir


I had a spear.

Sharper than a blade in a wolf’s mouth.

They called her Trembler, Shivvr, a scream of steel, sharper than fate. None could stand.


I laughed.

And called her Willow. Her birth-wood, see? Nothing sacred, Dvalin-made;

a widows’ wail flung a mile.


And we hunted together.

Til the Wolf escaped the dagger.



Living up here it’s dark in the winter, maybe not Scandinavian dark, not Finland dark, but we’re on a level with Moscow and Newfoundland, so the winter nights are long. 

I like it, I like the cosy blanket of night, I like leaving the house to come here and write while it’s still dark and, an hour later, the sky is only showing the faintest blue – it’s close to seven, it’s close to March and it’s dark outside.

I couldn’t live in a warm place, a summer place. I like the warmth of cold, darkness. If I could choose to be the wolf Skoll, chasing the sun, or the wolf Hati, chasing the moon, it’d be the moon every time.