The wind howled across the mountain as Ulfr crouched beneath a pine, blood staining the snow. He should've stayed in the woods, but something strange had drawn him here.

Then he heard a song. Soft, lonely, honest.

He crept closer until he found its source: a lone traveler singing beside a dying fire. He should've left. Instead, he listened.

A gust scattered sparks, and the singer finally noticed him. Ulfr rose from the shadows, scarred, towering, moonlight gleaming in his eyes.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then his rough voice broke the silence.

“That song… where did you learn it?” He stepped closer. “Sing it again.”