Page 1 of Hungry Like a Wolf
Chapter One
King Ravn, sonof Rhalson and ruler of Drangar, slit the throat of a dark-brown rat and laid it on a wooden shelf as an offering to Thor. Ravn’s chest was tight and his body as heavy as steel. He knew his heart beat because his pulse thudded in his ears, but why it still did…howit still could… he didn’t know.
“Almighty one,” he said, dropping to his knees and clasping his hands on his thighs, “I give you this offering in the hope of forgiveness.” He might have been a king, but right now, it felt as though the gods cared nothing for him. And he knew why.
“I beg for your forgiveness, Thor,” he repeated, looking up at the stone statue with the square chin, narrowed eyes, and bulky hammer. “I wanted power so badly that I did not think like a king. I stooped low to take that power, so low, and it has cost me dearly. It has cost me everything.”
It was true he still had his infant son, Thormod, and his people still respected him, but Ravn was desolate.
“I have paid the price,” he said, his throat constricting as he fought emotion. “You took my father to Valhalla to feast with you not a week after my twin brother, Haakon, left Drangar, taking my sister, Astrid, and brother Orm with him. My father’s broken heart was no longer able to beat without them.”
He paused, thinking of the moment he’d found his aged father dead in his bed, his mouth open and his wise, old eyes unseeing. He’d been holding a small figure of a horse Astridhad carved for him many years ago. “And my wife…dear, sweet Siggy, you took her too, along with our unborn child.”
He paused, unable to speak, and added several apple offerings, setting them neatly alongside the rat.
“You have punished me enough,” he said. “And I have learned my lesson. I promise you and the All Father and all the almighty gods that I will atone for my actions, that I will make good my wrongs.” He picked up a goblet of wine and poured a few splashes beside the apples and over the rat. “Please accept these gifts and sacrifice. I beg you to reroute my destiny. To send me on a path of purpose and victory so that for the rest of the moons of my life, I can serve.”
He closed his eyes. Outside his grand longhouse in Drangar, the easterly wind buffeted the roof and door. Thormod slept in his cot and his slave and friend Joseph had left some time ago.
He was glad that Thormod had settled. Since losing his mother, he’d been fractious and weepy, asking for her constantly and holding out his arms as if reaching for her. He just didn’t understand.
It broke Ravn’s heart all the more.
A single tear escaped and he dashed it away. He was a king! He didn’t cry. He was a Viking warrior, a wolf of the seas, a raider and ruler. He was made of steel interwoven with passion and intelligence.
Except all of those qualities felt like they belonged to a different man right now. It was as if he’d shrunk inside, shriveled, and he didn’t know how to stand tall again.
With a sigh, he walked to the fire trough. He added a few more logs to keep the longhouse warm overnight. Not that he was likely to sleep himself. Sleep was as elusive as a white elk these days.
He poured mead and sat on a chair soft with furs and watched the flames leaping to life, curing around the wood, licking and stroking as though caressing it.
He missed his wife’s touch, her scent, her sweet taste.
Would he ever marry another, or was she his destiny? Was Thormod to be his only son?
A dog barked outside and within a few seconds came the loud rattle of hailstones on the roof and far wall.
Ravn looked over at the image of Thor. He was the ruler of hail. Had he heard Ravn’s words? Seen his desperation? Was he replying?
The clatter increased, becoming deafening, and he hoped it wouldn’t wake his son.
Astrid’s face came to mind, so pretty yet vicious with it. He’d never quite known how to handle his sister the way Haakon had. Never been able to get more than a few minutes of softness from her. But if she were at his side now, she’d remind him of the ninth runestone, Hagalaz—hail—a stone that caused mayhem and disruption. It was a call to change within the lack of control it created.
And that was how he felt now. Out of control. Not of his lands and people, but of his life and of his destiny.
Hagalaz wasn’t a bad rune. It gave the opportunity for a reset to true values when the truth had become blurred.
And his truthhadbecome blurred. His family was either dead or gone—his child was still his family, just too young to be what he was looking for—and despite being surrounded by the good people of Drangar, he was alone.
He supped his mead and wished he knew what to do to shake his grief and lethargy. Right now, he was not a good king for his people.
He scrubbed his hand over his face before tugging at his beard and the small beads plaited into it. He should eat, but his appetite had left him.
Perhaps he would feel like eating in a while.
The pelting hail stopped as quickly as it had begun and he closed his eyes, resting his head back on the furs. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth and he tried to relax the best he could.
Soon his thoughts went to his twin brother. Haakon was always quick to smile, to help someone, to tell sagas to the children of the village. The opposite of Ravn, he knew that. It just wasn’t in Ravn’s nature to waste time on trivial pursuits or things that didn’t benefit him directly.
