Odin's Prize

Altar

Pure, scorching, consuming emotions.

Energy surging with invasive intensity penetrates to the marrow of my bones. An anchoring of his soul within my own.

A half is connecting with a half.

A gasp from Odin, while his body shakes. His emotions are flexing within to slither out in spiraling wisps of thoughts that wrap around flesh and bone.

Shock, rage, humiliation, joy, bliss.

The layering of him shudders with a long-breathed out sigh.

The Wild does not let go; she holds onto his neck - sinking canines deeper into the spot that now will forever hold her mark of Claim.

The caws of crows are faintly heard over the gust of wind. The treetops are bending to the point of breaking at how hard Nature is displaying her show of sudden force - while the Wild demonstrates her own. Canines digger deeper into the soft flesh of his throat of life.

Pain, hard authentic pain radiates out from his mind. His hands start to try to pry open the Wild's jaw; she does not relent. Pushing her teeth further into his neck.

Blood, Odin's blood is spilling, yet the Wild continues to go deeper into his throat. There is darkness to the Wild, a need to dominate everything with teeth including him.

A compulsion of hierarchy is rising.

Letting Odin's neck go only because she want's too, not because anything can make her.

She licks at the wound that is gapping, he falls to the ground, holding the torn flesh together, as if that will halt the bleeding.

Trying to gain control of the Wild's darkness that is cannibalizing her thoughts is no use, her eyes lock on and find the female that holds the color of Odin's eyes on her neck. Nose is scrunching back; her War is revealed for all these females to take completed consideration that Odin is now her half...

Pain, deep pain is coming from Odin's body in wave after wave of horror, the Wild whimpers, and whines. Her motion forward is completely stopped. The females all forgotten with his agony that is tearing through her Nature. He is silent in his suffering, his hands trying desperately to stop the flow of blood from his throat of life. The Wild went to deep in her Claiming; she is without any internal control.

The two Ravens with black robes of feathers perch on a branch watching on - obsidian eyes that suck in the light of day instead of reflecting it back stare directly into the Wild to reach my mind. The wind violently shaking the branches they are on, they don't move, holding their spot securely.

Odin's chest heaves, jaw clenched, eyes shut briefly before he stands himself straight up, legs shaking.

He makes no sound.

The females and now the gathering males look at Odin as if he has done something wrong, something shameful. He also feels great shame as well, yet he remains standing for everyone to judge him, head held high with eyes that regard every male this is joining the crowd who is whispering amongst themselves.

Odin slants his head to the side, as if trying to listen to the whispers, all noise stops instantly.

Bending down, Odin puts the strap of the leather satchel over his shoulder, his hand grips into the fur of the Wild, "take me home." His voice is lost in a gust of wind, only our ears hear him. He tries to walk steady, but he's leaning into the side of her for support. He's bleeding steadily, leaving a blood-red trail behind our path forward.