Freya heard a wolf howl and looked up from the papers littered across the table top in front of her. The sound was feral, full of rage. It told of a death about to come. The sheer viciousness of it made her smile before she dropped her eyes back to the documents before her.
The next howl was of such agony that she was moving before she realised what she was doing so, standing on the porch of the well concealed wooden retreat high up in the mountains surrounded by trees. Nors had built the place almost a thousand years ago. They had lived there together for a few centuries before he had become bored with it and moved back down into the city.
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