---Cain's POV---

It was odd to be able to see Fenris through his wolf's eyes. Even if the wolf was digging into its kill with vigor, the look in Fenris eyes turned a little green before it was pushed aside.

None of the pack had ever acted this way. Even the youngest, who had only just shifted, would gorge themselves with vigor.

Ever since the pup announced its presence, the parents would nurture both it and their offspring. Guiding them through life, learning the inner animal to share a living space with their human counterpart.

Seeing Fenris having to struggle with his inner animal showed me that his wolf wasn't really born with him. Though Fenris and the wolf both shared the same body and seemed to surrender control easily, they weren't one.

It only made the mystery around Fenris that much bigger. My curiosity only grew, especially with his statement that there was someone in the Norse pantheon that could possibly help him.

Because even if they possibly could help Fenris, whomever it was, didn't mean that Fenris trusted them, or anyone of that pantheon.

Nor would anyone of the Norse pantheon be willing to help. At least, not to my knowledge. To them, Fenris was their major enemy, a creature hell-bent on their destruction.

I barely managed to keep back from scoffing. Sure, the white wolf that was hunkering over his meal, currently was soaked in blood, but that said nothing about Fenris himself.

A few of the pack cautiously approached, laying down the second Fenris glanced at them, ears flattening against his skull and teeth bared. The low snarl that rumbled through his chest along with the blood dripping from powerful canines was enough of a warning.

And yet, even with a multitude of strangers around him, curious eyes tracking his movements, Fenris wasn't aggressive, at all.

All he wanted, was to be left alone. For people to stop bothering him because he couldn't put any trust in them.

From what I've seen in the short flashes of memories that had bombarded him at times, he had every reason to be wary.

The few people that hadn't abused him in the Norse pantheon, had either stood aside and let the abuse happen, or, in the case of his father, had disappeared without a trace.

Which wasn't unusual for Loki, who had been dubbed to be the Trickster God of the Norse Pantheon. But, seeing the few genuine memories Fenris had of his dad...

It didn't make sense that Loki would randomly disappear without a trace, abandoning his son. Or that he would stand aside and allow this abuse to happen in the first place.

He had seemed to be genuinely happy, ecstatic even when Odin had found Fenris. I've heard a lot of fake promises and vows in my lifetime, both from worshippers and gods alike.

And Loki's words of comfort and love, vows of protection and promised retaliation if anyone dared to lay a hand on Fenris, had rang with power.

Which means, someone in the Pantheon got rid of Loki, in some shape or form. They wanted Fenris, but in order for that to happen...

But, who could subdue a god? A trickster god at that! None of the Norse Gods had ever succeeded in driving Loki off, even with the numerous amount of pranks he played or the trouble he got the pantheon into.

A low, thoughtful hum escaped me as I thought back to that single spark in Fenris's mind, when he was trying to find someone, anyone that could aid his cause.

Someone who was knowledgeable enough to know everything going on, who'd be able to vouch for Fenris and who's word would be believed no matter what.

Fuck...

A scowl twisted my features as my mind could only come up with one single deity in the Norse pantheon that was capable of such a feat.

Mimir.

None of the other pantheons had been able to ever lay eyes in the mysterious deity. Everyone knew of him; an astute scholar whom was well renowned for his knowledge and wisdom.

Back in the earliest ages, many mortals, from simple peasants and farmers to the most noble of kings, would travel far and wide to seek council from Mimir.

And then one day, his beheaded body was found , draped over the rocks and nearly toppling into the rivers.

Rumors had spread, wars had been waged as fingers were pointed from one kingdom to another. Mortals blaming one another for the slaying of Mimir.

Some even went as far as to blame fellow scholars, men and women who had been apprentices of Mimir. It was assumed that one of them had struck out at Mimir in a fit of jealousy and rage, because the deity was an infinite fountain of wisdom and knowledge.

It had led to mankind destroying several libraries, collecting and burning books on the streets in a misdirected punishments to those whom already were victims.

But, the gods had their own theories, and it had all boiled down to one thing.

Mimir was a god of knowledge after all. A simple beheading wouldn't kill him, wouldn't destroy the knowledge that was stored inside.

The story outwardly presented by the Norse pantheon was simple; Mimir, the wisest god of the Aesir tribe, had been slain by the Vanir in their well-known war, and they had sent back the head to the Aesir.

And while it was widely accepted, I had always found it odd. Odd that the Aesir would've risked sending off their most valued deity to hostile territories without a proper escort.

Or, for the Vanir to behead Mimir, which tactically speaking, made a lot of sense, as it deprived the Aesir from their most knowledgeable weapon.

Only, why would they send back Mimir's head knowing that there were ways to revive even the gods.

It never made any sense, until darker whispers had swept through the pantheons, only to be quickly hushed in fear of retaliation.

There was one deity who would benefit from all this. Sure, keeping Mimir alive and well was the best possible outcome and succeeding in keeping the deity happy would give you free guidance.

But, beheading him made it easier to hide Mimir. To contain him. To make sure that all the secrets and whispers that slipped from his lips, landed in one set of ears only.

The only keeper of Mimir's head.

Odin, the Allfather. A God who had been known to give up his eye in order to drink from the waters of the well underneath Yggdrasill's roots. To gain wisdom.

And, as Fenris often pointed out : we were gods. Fickle beings who only thought of the benefits of one thing : Ourselves.

It would've been child's play to indeed send Mimir off to the Vanir as a sign that the Aesir were more than willing to negotiate their war.

And if anything were to happen to the beloved god on his way back home, it would be so easy to force the Vanir in submission.

Perhaps Mimir had even suggested it himself, in order to prevent more bloodshed between the Vanir and Aesir. Agreeing to be the necessary sacrifice only to be reattached to his body and revived at a later date.

However, greed is a powerful emotion, one that many, many gods have succumbed to on more than one occasion.

Odin had brought life back to Mimir's head.... But only his head. And then he had kept it hidden from the world, locked away where nobody would find it and demanded council.

At least, that's what most of the whispers had said before they had been silenced. But, it made sense after all.

Which also made our attempt to defend Fenris more difficult. If we had to be able to council Mimir in order to reveal the truth, clearing Fenris' name was impossible.

We'd have to somehow be able to sneak into Odin's inner sanctuary and be able to consult Mimir unnoticed, or take him away.

Yeah, highly unlikely.

I cracked my neck and sighed, feeling my muscles tense and flex under the added stress.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly relaxed my muscles, knowing there hardly was anything I could do at the moment. Any steps against the Norse Pantheon would have to be meticulously calculated and planned.

But I had no intention of backing off, to leave Fenris to his fate. As I eyed the silvery white wolf, I could only feel pity.

Especially as each move he made, revealed flashes of old, thick scars that were mostly hidden underneath his fur.

And underneath that, was years of trauma and issues that had been given time to fester overtime. Now that Fenris was freed, it would take a lot of time and patience to help him process what had happened to him.

Even more so to start trusting people again...

One of the pack's pups slowly ventured towards Fenris kill, keeping it's ears flattened and looking demure when the massive wolf looked up from its meal.

Much to the surprise of the pack, the little pup didn't get snarled or snapped at but instead was allowed to join in at the carcass.

A few other pups gathered their courage and joined in, all whimpering and crawling on their bellies as they approached. Licking at Fenris' bloodied muzzle when he looked up from his kill to sniff at the gathering of pups.

Slowly, a grin spread over my lips as the pack and I watched how the pups rolled over to bare their soft bellies before turning over and eagerly pawing at the massive wolf.

And Fenris didn't even seem to know what on earth he was supposed to do. He simply let them feed on the deer alongside him, not at all defending his kill with the same vigor he did as previously with the adult wolves.

In fact, I even saw Fenris use his powerful jaws to crack through the dense bones before dropping the fragments on the floor. Giving the pups access to the nutritious bone marrow within.

The rest of the pack slowly gathered around, chuckling as the pups dove for the bones, prancing around to show their prizes to the adults.

And I could've sworn that Fenris looked on, with a surprising tenderness in his eyes.