The beat abruptly ends with a thunder of cheers and everyone raise their cups to drink in toast to the brightest body in the sky.
The priestess puts down her chalice and peers into the flames,
“I once heard a story about a wolf named Fenris”.
Everyone raises their glass and shouts,
“Let’s hear, tell us…tell the story!”
The Priestess huddles closer to the fire and pulls her black hood down to cover her face, only her red-painted mouth visible. She speaks in a harsh whisper, yet loud enough for the entire coven to hear.
“The heart of the god was hot and on fire…and from that fire in the south, Fenris arose. He could smell the flesh of the gods who chained him below; it burned his nostrils and made his teeth ache with hunger.
At the place of frost he sought his revenge. Slowly, through the tall grass, his nose just above the snowy tops of white flowers, Fenris approached. His eyes blazed yellow-gold, and melted his path where he walked..
The fierce wolf, son of Loki, kept low…his black black fur blended with the night, but his teeth glowed bright, reflecting the moon light, dripping with silvery spittle. The path he walked was molten, red and blistered as he made his way North to greet the men who had teased and tricked him for so long.