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?