Chapter 6: Slumber
With the basket clutched between his jaws, Sköll padded toward Fenrir. His paws stirred up the dirt and debris from the aftermath of the battle, flicking his gaze between his companion and the unconscious serpent sprawled across the forest floor.
"Are you okay?" Sköll asked, lowering the basket gently.
Fenrir's single eye shifted toward him. His dark fur was marred with scratches and streaks of dirt, and despite his heavy breathing, he gave a short nod.
"I am fine..." he rumbled, though his voice carried the weight of exhaustion.
He glanced at the basket and its tiny occupant with an unreadable expression.
"All this... over a... tiny thing."
'What? Is he angry at me? Surely not!'
The baby frowned inwardly, scrunching his tiny face up. And besides, he would've thanked the wolf if he can, okay?
His arms flailed, not in anger but in an awkward attempt at expressing gratitude, which only made him look like he was waving at the wolf.
Fenrir let out a low sigh, easing the tension in his shoulders as he watched the baby's antics.
"Let us return home..." he muttered at last, turning towards the depth of the forest.