Alone and afraid, the escaped had little to do but run, to hide, to recoup from the tragedy that'd befallen their pack. To bide time to seek vengeance. Alone, though food was scarce, the prowess of the primarch who was yet to receive a name was more than sufficient to provide food for the three even without their assistance. With their sensitive nose, keen ears and clear eyes the three tracked the raiding party from their meager caveside dwelling through miles and miles of fierce fenrisian winter snowfall.
For all their brutal combat efficiency, the People of the Russ couldn't imagine their being tracked. Letting their guard down, blind to anything except self preservation, eager beyond belief to flee from the cold of the deep wilderness, they made it all too easy for the three to track them down.
The place where they stopped was not like anything the primarch or her wolf-kin had ever seen before. Hutts, a town square, food stores, roads, civilisation. A settlement of the nomadic Fenrisian people of the Russ, and a grand one too. Their quarry were hailed in their return with howls of adulation, hero's welcome. This stirred some feelings of anger in her who had yet to gain a name, though she pushed such wolf-like thoughts aside for the time being.
Her captured pack lay in the center of the settlement, in some primitive festival ground that even her primitive mind could recognise as simportant.She bade her wolf brothers stay hidden, and slinked amongst the hovels. The furs she'd acquired on her long trek to protect against the cold weighed heavy on her shoulders as dread, an unfamiliar feeling, crept up on her. She didn't know why, but the sounds in the distance telegraphed the reasoning. A look confirmed the need to fear, for it was a sight she'd do anything to be rid of afterwards.
Several she-wolves were being used by these humans, gripping their tails as they slam into the pussy's. The she-wolves howled in pleasure as the men used their meat-spears on them. Freya saw a mother feeding two human babies in the pile. Freya noticed her mother in the middle of the pile, a creamy goo leaking from her body.
The She-wolf's eyes were hazy and glassed over, any shred of aloof nobility had long faded from her lustrous silver gray form. Her mouth was contorted into something like a smile as her tounge drooped out of her mouth, panting in excitement and pleasure.
Foremost among these humans was a regal figure, a large well muscled brute with rippling abs, toned limbs, and a face that looked as if carved from ice itself. Delicate, though hard as nails, and surely painful to try and touch unbidden. The tight pelt pulled across the figure's chest was smaller than the she-wolves, and with hips just smaller, Freya saw what was persuasive about this figure, the tone, round melons that made her ass. Freya felt her insides turn with desire, of a more, savage kind. Upon her back was a mantle of fur, upon her head a crown of brass. In her offhand was a savage looking double bladed axe that seemed to throb unnaturally, emitting a low pitch noise that disturbed the young wolf's wolfing ears. Some sigil was engraved upon it, it reeked of blood upon the wind. All things considered, in the primarch's heart there was no doubt that this was the leader of these people. With a wave of the powerful looking woman, the once jubilant crowd fell silent. Her mouth moved, and to the primarch's surprise, she could understand the sounds that came out.
"People of the Russ, look at your prize!" The warrior roared, and the crowd roared along with her. "Today, our berzerkers have returned with quite the prize, those meddlesome wolves who have so long plagued us! Stealing our food, taking our husbands, leaving our women with abominations in their bellies! Well, no more to that I say, now it's our turn!"
The crowd roared again in exaltation, as she raised her mighty battleaxe one handed into the sky in a triumphant display of might.
"Thengir, fool that he was, lead you all astray. I will not. With this axe our success is guaranteed, with our dedication the path to glory is set. In the name of our newfound god may all our foes burn as we wade through the murky filth that is their weakling blood! Now to the victor goes the spoils! As I succeeded the old fool, so now will I give that same opportunity to all of you. Only the strongest should lead, so let it be made plain here and now, among you all I am strongest. Anyone who disagrees walk forth, that I might rid myself of a fool amongst faithful followers' '!
