She hadn't really expected much of a reaction. She didn't know if these wolves, some of whom's namesakes traced back to Greek and Norse mythology, actually knew the legends from whence they were borrowed.

She'd expected confusion, understanding maybe? Certainly not a whispered "no" and a fluffy blue butt in her face.

No? She sputtered, thoroughly taken aback. What do you mean, no???

You see a sun chariot, right? That's what happens. They're wolves, Skӧll chases the sun and Hati chases the moon. Well, it's a little unclear actually, sometimes it's other way around— but when they catch them it's said to bring about Ragnarok; the end of the world. There was no no about it. She used to live for stuff like this, those fantastical tales that she had read and reread so many times that they had etched themselves into the wrinkles of her brain. Not even death could shake them loose.

Sverke? She took a step after him, then another. Something like fear rose rapidly in her throat, pitching her voice, an almost child-like desire to not be alone in this moment. Where are you going?

Well, sometimes it's the other way around, Skoll Sverke shook his head, side to side like a bull about to charge. He huffed, watched the draconic plume of condensation unfurl across the snow. No. Skoll chases the sun. Hati was set after the moon.

He was going to bring the end about, and when the world was little more than ash and smoke, they'd be together again. A family. But here, Ragnarok hadn't happened yet, although Sverke felt a little like the world might be ending. Bragi's footfalls crunched behind him, but he kept his back to her. He was sure his expression was contorted into some alarming mix of horror and dawning realization.

His visions - were they past or future? Another life, or the one he was destined to live in this world? What if it was both?

Where are you going? She asked. I don't know. Sverke snapped, which was true. He just needed to move. To run.

He thought he knew why, now.

Ah, so he did know the myth. That still didn't really explain his reaction. What was he so distraught about, then? So he'd been dreaming about a story his mom had probably told him. It wasn't like any of it was actually real.

You don't have to freak out about it, she said, by way of assurance. She took another step toward him, her brow raised and her neck craned to try and peer over his shoulder, but he kept his back staunchly toward her. They're just stories. The world isn't actually going to end. Not for a really long time, at least, she added, quietly, under her breath. She didn't need to send some poor kid into a doom spiral over the inevitable heat-death of the universe just yet.

He snapped at her and she finally pulled short, ears back, a little deflated.

She didn't feel good. Her head hurt, her stomach hurt, her body hurt. She'd thought she'd finally found someone she could relate to, someone like her, and he was walking away. Angrily? Distraught? She didn't know, couldn't see his face. She probably wouldn't have been able to tell even if she could.

Okay, was all she offered softly back, her paws rooted firmly in the snow as she watched him storm off.

You don't have to freak out about it, She offered, and he whirled as though yanked back by an invisible chain.

His pacing brought him back toward his half-sister, an agitated scowl carved deep within his features. Bragi claimed the world wasn't about to end, not for a long time - and what did she know, false-seer that she was? Had she seen the end, did she know when it was coming?

He'd seen it. Tasted it like scorching ash and coal and burning flesh on his scalded-numb tongue. The chariot was his, it was destined. He squinted at the light cast across the snow-covered island, dawn's rosy gold tones creeping up his dark paws as he stared at them, broodingly silent for a second. It is coming, little sister. It is fated - it has been seen. Skathi prophesized it.

A crescent of white edged his blue-amber eyes as he stared at the ground, struck dumb by the knowledge of what he was, and what it meant. Ragnarok was fated for this land - how soon? Who would perish in the carnage? How did he avert it? Could he? Would he even want to? Sverke could not look what he was head-on, not even within his own mind. He feared what he'd find if he unpacked the memories of another life. Was he Skoll, or Sverke? Were they one and the same? He shuddered, head to toe. I'm going to go... He didn't want to be alone. But he needed to move. Hunt something.

He turned, still scowling, and stared daggers down at his paws. Her own brow furrowed, a slight frown pulling at the edges of her mouth. It's just a story, she repeated, her voice low and soft in her best attempt at comfort. Mythology. It's not real.

It was just a legend, one of countless, told and retold over hundreds of years, born of a long gone civilization's attempt to make sense of the world. Sometimes the details were lost in translation. Sometimes they were changed, outright, by scholars or storytellers for some reason or another. It was why some claimed Hati chased the moon and others claimed she chased the sun. It was why some thought Bragi was the god of poetry, the very medium named after him.

None of it was real. She just didn't know how to impress this fact upon a child who was probably still young enough to believe in Santa Claus.

Look... I don't know why I... saw, the things that I did. I was just confused, and a little scared, and I was probably just remembering something my... dad told me — like you. It wasn't real and neither is Hati or Skӧll or Ragnarok. The sun is a big ball of fire that's hundreds of millions of miles away from here. It can't be eaten, and when it does eventually burn out in like 10 billion years, you and I will definitely not be around to see it. Okay?