One moment we were beside the great fire in Asgard and the next, Fenrir and I appeared beside Sigrun and the rest of the Craven contingent. Apart from a few short seconds of mild nausea, I remained unaffected. I recognized the area. An abandoned stretch of land behind the Craven Cemetery. Appropriate. The Valkyries' chain armor gleamed in the murky light of a distant lamp, one of those fake lamps along the curved pathway that bisected the cemetery, made to look old but lit by a modern electric bulb. The Ulfr, still in full human form, were resplendent in red-bronze body armor. We made a magnificent sight, but nobody would be able to see us. We came in the night, to retrieve our charges. We would leave in the darkness too, unbeknownst to parents and friends and family of the deceased. People who would never know the glory of what their sons and daughters would soon become. Once life was breathed into the chosen Warriors, they would rise to fight for Odin and Freya, to win the Great War and save the world from eternal destruction.
