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Wolf child, wild child, friend to tussir and trolls and underfootlings most like. He is the sweet terror of all who dwell beneath the black tower of Heiduholt, the joy to Hertha his mother, the vexing, hopeful and testing youngest son of Orlauf Jarl. He doesn’t intend mischief, not always, not really. It follows him, ensnares him, and in a silvered flash he cannot help but give chase, and let it take him down it’s tumbling rolling paths, ending him up in his father’s ill favor. Still, he is but a child, for one more summer at least and with winter passing and spring in approach there is little enough time as it is before he too will be saddled with the duties plaguing his older brothers. Little enough time to be free.