Hell's Book of Random One-shots

Crossing Borders - Hades

A chill caught in the air as the sun dipped towards the horizon, leaving behind another day of minuscule results from a hunt in barren land.

It was getting worse by the day, many had already left the realm of Járnviðr to find greener pastures with more food and higher chances of survival and yet some of us, the more stubborn of the lot, refused to follow in their footsteps and leave what had been our home for a good millennium or so.

I couldn't leave, I was the one who was meant to lead it back into prosper since my father's passing of the torch.

Unlike other realms, mine hadn't thrived as well and was on the brink of near complete death.

Our green lands had gradually become browned, the trees and thriving plant life becoming patches of mud and dusty paths where no living thing could live and thus, us wolves had dwindling fresh hunts for food.

Something that was a surprise as we were merely a part of Midgard, though one of the mythical sides to the east that had long been forgotten to time and left to rot away, unknown to the Midgardians of the current years.

No one needed to know of Iron-wood, a forest to the east where troll women bore giantesses and equally large wolves.

My father, Skoll, had always had a tumultuous relationship with Odin but to think that the Asgardian would truly let us die out was heart-breaking, especially given that I had made multiple attempts to rekindle a treaty between our two realms.

Our stories were gradually left untold over the years since the last Ragnarok and we were left to be forgotten, primitive and wild.

Where we belonged, if Odin were about to speak on it.

Another cold breeze kicked up dust from the floor and blew it into my eyes, my instinctive closing of them only sealing it away to irritate them more.

A deep growl caught in the back of my throat as I leaned down to rub at my eyes with one of my paws, my ears flattening against my head as I worked to be rid of the irritation, all the while accepting that this was perhaps a sign that it was time to call it a night.

The wind was likely to only get worse and I needed to get to shelter, lest I find myself caught in one of the weather extremes that I would prefer to keep out of.

My fur could only take so much battering from the elements before it got knotted and matted beyond easy repair, one of the hinderances that came from my stature was that anything could get into my fur and I wouldn't notice it straight away due to the sheer amount that I have.

This led to many painful unknotting sessions in my life and I didn't particularly feel like dealing with another anytime soon, not when my focus should be on finding food for the remainder of my people.

Once I was able to open my eyes without them itching or aching, I dared to take another sweeping look at the barrening landscape before turning back towards the dwindling expanse of dying trees that was once the flourishing forest of Járnviðr.

A sadness chilled my blood, the sight of my once wonderful realm nothing short of heartbreak every time I saw it.

My stomach growled, my eyes stung and for once, my stubbornness had dwindled enough to make me question anything and everything I once knew.

Perhaps it was time to accept our loss and move on.

Another breeze kicked up, the wind whistling through the trees and carrying the scent of dead botany with it.

I paused.

My nose lifted towards the sky and I took an experimental sniff, my head tilting curiously.