---

For Oasis

---

---

He'd done it.

It had always been his destiny, written in the stars well before his birth. Sure, the details had changed a little (Odin perhaps wasn't quite Odin, but the wolf trapped in the Isle had lightning stuff crackling around him, so it still counted)... but fate was often fickle in that way. Fenrir stood tall atop a large boulder, chest expanding as he took in a deep, bracing breath of complete and utter satisfaction.

He had saved the world.

Sure, others had shown up to render their savior aid (not that he needed it), but it was through his strength alone that the chained wolf was able to be freed and restore Mythris to its true glory. Fenrisúlfr Tyrson had saved them all.

But - where was the gratitude? Where were the women?

Was it not enough?!

Frowning, the wolf hopped down from his perch and scanned the surrounding forest, looking for anyone who might be in need of a sexy, masculine hero to adore.

Aw, come on, he huffed. What's the point of saving anything if you're still alone anyway?

He was certain there were meant to be throngs of grateful worshipers post-heroism, but the woods remained utterly silent.

---

The faint but warm scent of honeycomb wafted along the breeze. It was distinctly feminine and immediately roused him from his wallowing; Fenrir whirled around to face its source, finding himself staring very abruptly at a beautiful golden woman. Oh, the gods do answer quickly! Had he ever truly doubted them? Licking a paw, he lifted it to slick back the disheveled fur atop his head.

Fenrir swaggered toward her.

You, it would appear, he cooed, tail held high like a banner behind him. Yes! A maiden come to bask in the holy light of Fenrisúlfr Tyrson, savior of Mythris, the wolf bathed in divine and glorious purpose!

But... she didn't have any tribute.

Where were the pelts, the cured meats, the fermented berries? Had she arrived empty-pawed?

Ah, you must have left it farther back, Fenrir said without providing any context as he circled her, inspecting the woman with great interest. It was too much to carry in one trip. Well, lead me to your spoils, and I shall help you bring them forth!

He could hardly wait.

---

So the maiden was playing coy! Fenrir liked games, a natural consequence of being a Tyrson. He paused in his circling, stopping directly in front of her so that he might better inspect her features. Soft and feminine, certainly; he appreciated the fetching white half-mask across the left side of her face, an unusual marking in a sea of symmetry. Imperfect things were often so much more entertaining.

Fenrir paid little attention to the owl overhead, not yet having any reason to link them together. The hoot only caused him to flicker his gaze up once, meeting its steady eyes for several moments before shrugging it off as some bothersome pest likely hunting for rodents to eat.

Oh, I'm not confused at all. And if you need someone to show you around, he smarmed, edging closer to the woman until his breath was hot behind her ear. I'm sure I can help you with that.

Licking his lips, his eyes scanned the treeline for any other presence in the vicinity.

You see, I was born here. I'm a native. I can show you anything you wanna see.

Anything at all.