Odin's Prize

The Entrance

The Sun is settling itself downward, while the Moon starts to rise itself upwards into the fading light. Both are equal in the sky, but the Moon to me looks brighter, fuller, even more, lunar and menacing in quality.

Crows begin to gather in a flock, settling on the slim branches of the bare birch, and poplar trees. Heads angled to the side peering with curiosity before their rowdiness starts to caw and click out of busy beaks, shifting themselves to get the best view of the clearing.

"This is the only way Charlie, after this they cannot come to you unless they want to come at me." Odin's voice is all I hear while looking at the line of Retribution.

So many gathered males all with faces showing outward revulsion of the Past that I had no part in, yet somehow I'm the Future direction they want to take part in.

Odin stands to his completed full height, all I see is him, the Far North pack blocked from my view. 

All I see now is Odin; he's my visual intake. 

Taking his hands out of his gloves, fingers untying the special knot of my hood, pulling it down. My face now visibly exposed to the biting arctic air. His fingers grasp the material of the warm fur that has kept me content during the last leg of the Long Walk. He shifts it up and over my head, leaving me in the shirt that he had me wear this morning. It's instant when the cold strikes against my flesh, shivers starting uncontrollably. The strap of the leather satchel I've carried all this way here leaves behind its mark with how heavy the burden of it was. Odin doesn't say a word while he regards it, putting it over his shoulder close to his body the way I had been carrying it. 

"I'm not sure I can do this Odin." His fingers stop untying the knot to my fur pants; there is a tremble to them that wasn't there before. 

"I'm going stand at the end of the line, you just have to make it to me. I am your end, Charlie. That's your goal; it's their goal to stop you from making it to me." The crows flap their wings as if applauding his words, before settling themselves down once again.

"Rember the biggest one is what you have to get through, take his left. Always the left for him." Words spoken against my ears as the fur pants slide down my legs. The air nipping into my thighs, next to come off is the boots that have kept my feet warm and dry all this way. I'm left in a shirt and underwear, almost entirely bare to the elements. 

When Odin bends down to gather all the fur clothing in his hands, making sure that nothing is left on the snow covered ground, I see the teeth of this pack. Most have eyes that reflex their outward distaste for me. 

"Odin, why do they look at me like this. I've done nothing wrong." Hackles are starting to rise up along the ridge of my back, the wolf inside ascending towards this outward posturing. 

"You were allowed to live." Odin takes a step away towards the line of wolves. 

"Odin-"

"Charlie, I'll be there waiting for you at the end of the line." The fingers of arctic breath are soaking into the tender soles of my feet. 

Taking in the clearing, a singular dwelling sits tucked away among tall pines and birch trees, away from the center of the Far North's winter camp. 

Looking at the what's waiting for me, the greeting I'm receiving is not what I was expecting. I thought I knew what would be greeting me but this is beyond anything I expected. Female faces with sad eyes, while their males are looking on with complete hate, sharp teeth flashing my way. 

There is nothing passive with the movement of Odin, the way his musculature shifts and flexes even underneath all those furs is effortless. While walking the path between the twelve females, he stops himself, giving regards to each one individually before moving on to the next.