Valkyrie
The forest blurred around us as we raced through it, Ragnor’s wolf form moving with an urgency that spoke of his turmoil.
His powerful strides barely touched the ground, as if he didn’t want to waste a single moment lingering.
“Ragnor...” I called softly, stroking his fur with a gentle hand.
My touch was meant to soothe, to reassure him, though I could sense the storm brewing within him. Something about what had happened in the village—something about the old man’s words—had unsettled him deeply.
He responded with a low growl, not of anger but of frustration, and quickened his pace.
Tightening my grip on his thick fur, I clung to him as we dashed through the trees, but my thoughts were heavy with the weight of everything we’d just learned.
We could feel it. The curse,
