I Bring the Fire Part I: Wolves
through his mind when he trips over something. Nearly falling to the ground, he curses, and a
spurt of flame rises from his hand to the treetops. In the flame’s orange glow he sees an
outcropping of stone rising at his feet.
His flame dissipates, and he does his best to walk around the rocks in the dark.
His brain, as it is wont to do, starts to scheme. After he gets to the human village and eats his
fill, then what? How will he find Valli and Nari in the Void? No, not the Void, they disappeared
before he did. To what realm? He’ll have to search them all.
Swallowing, he tries not to let the enormity of the task overwhelm him. He is rather good at
achieving impossible things. Even Odin will give him that. Scowling at the thought of the would-
be executioner of his sons, he feels his body go hot.
From up ahead he hears the sound of tires screeching and some loud noises he can’t identify.
He’s too hungry to be curious. He just steps onto the gravel on the side of the road.
Concentrating, he creates an illusion of the attire that was popular last time he was on this planet.
His armor is still on. If anyone touches him they will feel it, but he will look like he belongs.
With a deep breath he starts walking towards the lights of human habitation.
An automobile approaches him. It has a shape he’s never seen before, trapezoidish, large and
boxy. Thinking perhaps that the driver will give him a lift, he raises his hand. It slows for a
moment, and Loki sees a flash of white hair, but then it speeds away. Loki scowls and keeps
going, every step dragging more than the last.
Far up ahead the boxy trapezoidish automobile slows and stops. Loki hears a voice in the
distance and something that sounds like a growl and maybe a yelp.
A few minutes later he feels something. Something that makes every hair on the back of his
neck stand on end. It’s something he has not felt in centuries, the one, small, intriguing human
magical trick: A prayer.
Someone, anyone, help me.
Amy lies on the ground, one side of her face pressed in the dirt, the other side with the cold
end of a gun to her cheek. She can hear her breath in her ears, or is that his breath? The guy’s
knee is on her back. He’s silent. The hand is trembling. In fear...or...she swallows...or excitement.
Closing her eyes, she tries to remember her self defense courses she took with Grandma. The
first rule was to verify that your attacker’s weapon is genuine.