Bronislava stumbled as she fled through the snowy pine forests of Permia. She hit the frozen ground hard, weighed down by the heavy chainmail byrnie she wore. Breathlessly, she cursed in a mindless mix of the Thjodiskmal and Vylgisk tongues. Panicked, she scrambled to her feet, snatched up her longbow, and continued running. The Fenrissynir were almost upon her.

     She could hear their ululating cries echoing through the forest as she fled. The damned things were relentless! Snarling growls from very close behind her kept her running long after she felt she could run no further.

     Bronislava had never had a very clear look at her pursuers, but she was certain she knew what they were. She knew they were not simply outlaws in wolf skins. They were not were...

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