“We sometimes have races down here, dirt bike races,” River explained as she held onto Fenrir’s thumb. She scuffed a dusty tire track with her shoe. Harper jumped through a bush and shook out her brown curls like a dog. River and Fenrir watched her disappear into the branches of the fir tree. River then pulled him forward into the soft needly boughs. He brushed them out of his way, wishing that he could maneuver between them as easily as the girls. The fir tree was massive, three stories tall, and its branches were stout and strong from long years. Between two of the thickest and lowest branches, a framework of sticks was laid, each side touching the bottom branches. Harper lightly crawled through the limbs to come face to face with Fenrir.

“Behold,” she said dramatically.

“Impressive,” he lied.

“Not it’s not,” River replied.

“Yeah, it isn’t,” he agreed.

“You were just saying that to make us feel good,” she continued.

“I was, did it work?” He asked.

“Maybe,” she responded.

“But it will be impressive.” Harper told him, “We just need to finish it.”

“What is it?” he questioned.

“A human-sized nest. We started it a little while back.” She clarified as she clambered down the branches to be next to her sister. “You can help out. We need thicker sticks for the start, then we’ll use the fur boughs to line the inside to make it nice and soft.” Fenrir took his assignment with a casual salute and began collecting the wood. He enjoyed the cool forest atmosphere, it was so peaceful and relaxing. His earliest memories were of exploring a similar woodland. It was comforting to walk through one again. Fenrir didn’t often dwell on the past, not on purpose. He preferred to live in the moment and discover new things. The past was something that couldn’t be changed, it simply was, nothing could control what had happened, and one only had power over what will be. Anyone who knew anything about Fenrir knew that he was fearless, anyone who knew Fenrir knew that he had two fears, himself, and the past.

Fenrir carried the armload of wood back to the evergreen and called to the kids waiting inside. Herper came scurrying out and began selecting the acceptable branches. River gave him a more in-depth explanation of the nest’s architecture as Harper placed the sticks in their correct positions. Fenrir was fascinated by their plan. He had his reservations about how the end product would function in reality, but he kept them to himself and just listened. Harper pulled a little flip book out of her back pocket and showed him a sketch of the finished structure. The scribbles on the page took a bit of imagination, but he managed to make out the gist of the shape.

“What are you going to do with it after you’re done?” He asked.

“Sell it on eBay,” she commented sarcastically, “no, it’s a nest, we’ll sit in it.”

“Ah, I see,” Fenrir relayed. Harper nodded, satisfied. A ring sounded in his pocket and he pulled his phone out. A tight kink gripped his stomach. The name read Lancaster City Hospital. Harper peeked at the screen.

“Your aunt?” She asked. He nodded tersely.

“I have to go.” He told her. All of his anxiety came back. Here he was, playing with sticks with a couple of children, what the heck was wrong with him?

“Okay, bye,” she responded then watched him split into a dash through the woods.

Fenrir’s pulse accelerated, as he swiftly got out of hearing distance of the children, and answered his phone.

“Mr., uh, f-Fanrur,” came a stale, young male voice from the other end.

“Speaking,” he replied.

“I’m sorry to inform you that Mary Whitlock has gone into a coma. The doctors are doing their best to revive her. You are labeled as her only kin-”

Fenrir cut off the conversation with a tap to the screen, causing the glass to form hairline fractures. He softly gave an ancient curse under his breath and sprinted south. He flew through the trees, leaping over the creek and accelerating until the foliage blurred around him. His reflexes were fast enough to dodge past the trees, but in his haste, he still skinned a few, the bark flying off in a spray of wood chips. It took him 45 minutes to reach Lancaster where he slowed to keep the easily spooked humans from freaking out and trying to banish him. That sort of thing has happened way too often.

He jogged up the hospital steps and made a slight effort to pant as if he was winded. The boy at the front desk was someone unfamiliar. A thin college-age kid chewing on a pen. He glanced up at Fenrir and started violently, sitting up almost painfully straight. Fenrir ignored his polite yet nervous nod and continued through the halls down the well-known path to Mary’s room. He caught the boy’s low grumble about checking in and following protocol and what he’d say if Fenrir hadn’t run off so quickly. He sidestepped the doctors and nurses that occupied the halls and ignored the few protests that followed. He swerved into room 1057 and stood in the doorway.

Mary wasn’t there.

He felt his breathing and heart rate accelerate even more as he glanced about the room. His hand began slowly curling into a fist.

“Hey, what are you doing?” A doctor taking notes in the corner asked as he stared incredulously at Fenrir. The man was about 50ish with short, graying brown hair and blue scrubs. He had an irritated look on his face. Fenrir marveled at how fragile and soft he looked. It was amazing how struck him at that moment how breakable this man was. His bones, so easy to crush, the flesh, effortlessly tearable. His life could be taken in a moment. His blood could flow over these sickeningly sterile walls. Fenrir took another step into the room.

“Wait,” another voice called out.

Half disappointed, Fenrir turned to the side to see who announced themselves. A nurse that Fenrir could recognize came forward. A sudden shame filled his soul. This particular woman had sometimes come to care for Mary in this same room.

“I know who he’s here for. He’s used to coming here to visit his aunt. The intern at the front desk must’ve forgotten to tell him the new room number. I’ll show him to where he’s supposed to be.”

“Alright then,” the doctor in the corner sized Fenrir up with studious brown eyes. The nurse beckoned to Fenrir with a petite hand. The mortified giant followed the small woman with his head ducked down.

“It’s alright,” she consoled him, misinterpreting his embarrassment, “that was an honest mistake. Everyone does it.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Fenrir said in a low voice. He could still feel the savage draw of blood simmering under his skin. Perhaps if he did a clean enough job, no one would notice her missing, or her blood on his clothes. Fenrir clenched his jaw and stuffed that thought away. He really needed to be more careful. Mary would not approve if she woke up to see how he’d nearly slipped. No, when, when, he couldn’t afford to lose her. Not now, not ever.

“Of course, it is,” the nurse assured him in a kind, motherly voice. The irony in that statement forced a laugh out of Fenrir’s chest. Of course, everyone occasionally feels the urge to kill under pressure. Like him, their rage would expand through their tissue, fueled by fear and confusion. When he was still a child Fenrir would isolate himself for weeks, bewildered and frightened by how easy it was to trip and end a life. How his emotions would run high and the bloodlust would boil over with it. How little he knew how his “friends” feared him.

All but one.

But what was done was done.

Over the centuries, he had seen everything, nothing much could phase him anymore. He’d taken every insult, felt every feeling, watched every attempt to end him, and slowly began to stop expecting anything anyone did to work, not when it came to him. There had been a time when he refused to even stand up. He thought that there was no point in action if he had already done and seen everything, he had no idea of what he was missing. The people.

“She’s in here,” the nurse told Fenrir.

“Thanks,” he said softly to her, “I’m sorry, I never asked your name.” She smiled at him and sort of blushed.

“Nalla, Nalla Auston.”

“Thank you, Nalla.”

She shrugged a shoulder and walked off, waving. Fenrir took a breath and gripped the handle of the door Nalla had shown him and opened it. Inside Mary’s prone frame lay on a gatch bed with an IV in her arm. Fenrir pulled up a metal chair from the corner of the room and sat beside her. He sat down and looked at her closed eyes. He then lowered his gaze to his hands. He shivered slightly. The almost incident with the doctor wasn’t what rocked him. Sure, he’d felt somewhat bad for wanting to rip him to ribbons, but Fenrir had mastered the ability to hide it. The real stab was in the doctor's deep brown eyes. The shade shared with two little girls staring up at him with excitement and adventure locked in their innocent faces. Would he be as ready to slit their throats? He heaved a loud sigh of confusion. He sighed, that is, without the knowledge that Mary wasn’t quite as dead to the world as he had thought.

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“Aaah!” She yelled, jerking in shock and popping open her eyes. Fenrir yelped and stood up, kicking the chair to the ground in a crash. “What in the silent little devil?” Mary panted, breathing heavily. “Wha- what are you doing?”

“I got a call, I came to see you,” Fenrir told her, holding up his hands as if she was a frightened animal to calm. She growled.

“Make some noise, wingnut! Let me know you’re there, don’t just sneak around like a- a… a cat burglar!” She huffed to him. A grin broke out over his face making his eyes glitter as he looked at her. “What?” she asked in a calmer voice. He just shook his head and stepped closer. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her in a big bear hug. She squeezed his neck and patted his back. “I guess you were pretty worried about me huh?”

“Worried? ” He responded and added in his thoughts you have no idea. Except she did, she’d seen enough of him and heard the stories he’d tell. She knew what was happening. She gently pushed him away. He stood up.

“Fenrir, I… I’m not scared.” She uttered, he cocked his head to the side in confusion. “I’m not afraid to go. The only thing I’m concerned about is you. I know the pain you feel. I can’t experience it personally, but I’ve seen you almost every day. You’re so good at hiding whatever’s gotten inside you, but I can read your eyes.” Fenrir didn’t respond, his face a stone-carved mask. “Sometimes, I wonder why you put yourself through this for me.”

“Procrastination,” he said, a sliver of an unfeeling smirk touching his mouth, “pain is inevitable, I just put it off and wait for the last second to feel it. It’s not all easy going though, as a deadline approaches there will always be some anxiety.” His eyes grew distant. “People are such a nice distraction.” He murmured.

“Well, now you can go find someone else to be distracted by,” Mary encouraged him, “I’m too tired and boring to be much help in that area.” Fenrir’s face gave out no signal to his thoughts, a cool stone set in place, without emotion or life. Internally, he was whirling. People would be the safest when he distanced from everyone else and he could easily slip away and not come back, that was impossible while Mary was still alive, but once she stopped breathing it would be an agonizing journey to find another human who could keep him busy. Or so it had transpired in the past. He already knew of two little troublemakers who could use someone to guide and defend them. He just wished he had better control over himself, over a thousand years and he still couldn’t bridle his instincts without human aid. He briefly mused over the concept of himself. A supposedly unmatched force, and yet he still sought the help of a human.

How pathetic.

Of course, he needed to isolate himself from the rascals until he was sure he wouldn’t crack and tear them to shreds. But it wouldn’t hurt to gain a little more information on them.

Later that day, when the sun was setting, Fenrir returned to Nettlevill to do a little investigating. He entered a small hardware store and began snooping around as if in search of something. He put on a mildly concerned/frustrated look and inspected several tools. As Fenrir expected, it didn’t take long for the unkempt, portly middle-aged man at the cash register to become interested in him.

“Evenin’,” the grizzled employee called to Fenrir as he passed the counter a second time. Fenrir glanced his way and gave a brief grin that was friendly enough to crack the ice a little.

“Hey,” Fenrir responded in an amiable tone.

“Looking for something?” the cashier asked.

“Yes,” Fenrir responded, visibly grateful, “I’m visiting just out of town and my car broke down, I was looking for a jack. The family I’m staying with doesn’t have a working one.”

“Oh, we have a good selection,” Scruffy replied, stepping out from behind the counter. He guided Fenrir down the far side of the store and motioned to a rack displaying several car jacks.

“Thanks, a lot,” Fenrir commented as he studied the tools in feigned interest. As planned, the old worker didn’t immediately leave. People like this usually stuck around to ask some questions after meeting him, it seemed like an instinct of theirs, once they see someone like Fenrir, to learn more.

“What kinda car is it?” The guy asked, stroking his unshaven double chin.

“An old Ford pickup,” Fenrir responded, “I’ve had to work on it before.” Scruffy nodded and continued to rub his bristles. He turned slightly away as if he was about to leave.

“My name is Fen, by the way,” Fenrir swiftly said, keeping the man close, and he held out his hand. Scruffy beamed and stuck his own round hand in Fenrir’s much larger one.

“Clyde Benedict,” he replied earnestly. Fenrir nodded and gave his palm a slight grip, not enough to make the other wince, but adequate to make him stretch his fingers afterward.

“Where are you staying?” Clyde asked, apparently learning Fenrir’s name was enough to pry.

“The Allisters, you know them?”

“No, don’t say I do.”

“They have two little girls, twins.”

“Oh,” Here Clyde laughed heartily, “those things. I met some twins when their daddy came in to get some lawn mower sparkplugs, the girls were trying to convince him to get them some wire to make a trip line. Yeah, I never caught their names, but I remember those two, peas in a pod they were. They just moved in didn’t they?”

Fenrir was honestly a little shocked to have hit good luck on his first stop. He didn’t know if he would have had any chance at learning more about these intriguing kids in this town. He outwardly relaxed and dawdled, seemingly content to talk without purpose while he contemplated how he could get the conversation to turn to probe for information.

“Yeah, we get all kinds here,” Clyde continued, “some of them stellar, absolutely fantastic people.” Outside, the sound of bikes rolling into the parking lot came. “Others I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.” The jingle of small bells as the shop’s front door opened. “Well, to each their own, I guess.” Small shoes slapped the concrete floor of the hardware store. Fenrir felt a stab of disbelief as he heard familiar excited voices. His jaw tensed slightly as a small, round face appeared with bright brown eyes and wide glasses sparkling in the light of the ceiling lamp.

“He’s here!” River squealed and Harper sped to her. Their heads poked out from behind an aisle. Clyde gave a booming laugh.

“Speak of the devil, eh?” he chuckled, then somehow managed to slip past Fenrir in the tight aisle and strolled back to the counter. Meanwhile, the schemers eyed Fenrir, wondering what his next move would be. He inwardly sighed. The girls suddenly started motioning to him with eager hands to follow them. They then turned and fled the building. Bewildered, Fenrir slowly and reluctantly followed. He stepped out to find the parking lot empty of tiny conspirators. Not that easily duped, he simply walked around the back of the small structure. There the kids sat on bikes that seemed a size or two too big. They were studying a small, hand-held device that Harper was gripping. It looked like a long narrow screen with an antenna on the front. The girls glanced up and smiled.

“Do I dare ask?” Fenrir questioned them.

“I don’t know, I’m not you,” River responded as if that was a perfectly expectable reply.

“Was this just a wild hunch you had, that I was looking at car jacks in a slightly obsolete hardware store?” He proceed.

“Nope,” she returned.

“River bugged you with a tracker.” Harper elucidated.

“Yeh,” her sister claimed. Fenrir cocked his head, the ice in his features melting. Slowly he grinned. “Bet you won’t find it.” River sang in a pretty, fragile voice. Fenrir carefully smoothed his jacket with his palms, opened it, and reached into the lining. He extracted a small green and red chip. River pouted while Harper snorted. Fenrir approached the kids on bikes and tucked the chip into River’s soft, tiny palm. She humphed adorably and stuffed it in her pocket. Warning bells rang in the back of Fenrir’s head, they were slowly chiseling through the iron wall he had tried to instill between them. They didn’t deserve what he would bring. Pain. Fear. Death. Fenrir’s face again became carved from cold stone. He turned around and walked away.

“Hey,” Harper called and began riding after him with her sister in tow. He didn’t look back as they flanked him. “You gonna get that car jack for whatever you want if for?” She pressed.

“No,” he said simply in a neutral voice.

“Why?” She pressed.

“Harper,” River called, Harper turned her head and saw her sister gesturing for her to follow.

“Oh, yeah, see you later,” Harper mumbled to Fenrir and followed River back to the store’s main entrance. Fenrir slipped into the woods. He got a decent distance away from the town before shaking out his jacket, another small chip tumbled down from the folds of the cloth. He shook his head bemusedly making his dark hair flop around by his ears. He crushed the chip with the heel of his foot and pulled his jacket back around his wide shoulders. He paced for a while in the cool of the evening. He felt the familiar weight of boredom press on his mind. He found periods of inactivity distasteful at the very least and at the moment he didn’t have a clue what his next move would be. He had learned everything he should know about the twins from his encounter with them, he knew they were smart, resourceful, determined, and unpredictable. It would be a shame to cast off such an exceptional opportunity to watch the children grow up by drawing in more and end up killing them for his troubles. He briefly contemplated causing a disturbance somewhere and watching to see how many stories would spring about. He shrugged off the idea, there were enough problems in the world, he just needed to find one to study, Mary had forced him to promise her that he’d wait at least until she died to do any real damage to anyone. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun confusing people.

** *

Cleveland, Ohio. Sirens wailed their urgent and mournful tune, as a dozen or so cop cars sit stationary surrounding a long-abandoned building. Police detective Marcus Rodney pulled up to the scene and was greeted by a squat, blond female officer. Despite her round, doll-like face, she had the grim air around her of someone who’s seen too much to ever want. Rodney nodded to her as she motions for him to follow her, his long, lanky legs moving quickly to the scene of the crime. In the immediate entrance of the dilapidated establishment lay the pale body of an unfortunate victim, lying in a puddle of blood. Rodney pulled on a pair of plastic gloves.

“What was the cause of death?” He asked.

“Probably dying.” A deep, masculine voice answered, not the high-pitched tones of the female officer. Rodney whirled around at the same time that the other officer did. Behind them both was a massive person, dressed in a dark jacket that was uncommonly warm for the steamy summer night in the city. He was peering inquisitively at the dead man over their heads.

“Who let you in,” The small officer growled, almost humorously as she barely came up to this man’s middle.

“Oh,” he said in innocence “I did.”

“Charleson, we have an intruder, get down here now.” She demanded.

“Pushy,” The stranger commented calmly. Then his head jerked violently and the pupils in his deep eyes contracted at the entrance to the building. Rodney and the other officer twisted to glance at the door. “I’ll be around.” They heard. He was gone. Rodney furiously searched around the grounds for the intruder.

Fenrir chuckled as he watched them from the shadows in the ceiling beams. He silently slipped through a hole in the roof to the outside. He crawled to the edge of the roof and gazed down at the cop cars. The detective had exited the building and was dashing around, attempting to find any sign of the tall intruder. It may have seemed odd to enjoy watching people confused, but Fenrir loved it. It gave him a quick chuckle and a brief respite. He lifted himself to his hands and knees and let his eyes settle on a distant point yonder. His muscles tightened and he gave a massive thrust with his hind legs. As he hurtled through the air, Rodney glanced up and saw an object flying above him. The detective instinctively chased after the missile. Fenrir hit the ground running, leaving a deep imprint on the pavement. Rodney might have had wimpy human eyes, but he could make out the projectile landing in the bright city and disappearing into the trees in a large, blurry shadow.

“Rodney, where are you going?” Charleson shouted as he and the female officer watched him from inside the structure. The detective opened his mouth and closed it again, not sure of where to start.

“Nowhere,” he finally responded as he trudged back to the crime scene. He would find this shadow later.