A/N: I actually started writing this before I finished the last chapter of "A Memory all too Keen," but then classes happened! I went back to college after a long hiatus, and it showed! I wanted to think up a creature, but I could only think of them Avatar: TLA style, so my first thought was "it could be a viper-bear," so I gave it a weird name based off of Norse words and that was that. (Worm was used to refer to snakes too for a long time.)

This is a sequel to "The Bird of Forgetfulness" and "A Memory all too Keen." Although I meant to write it clear enough so that you do not have to read those stories first, I'm not so sure I was successful. I wanted to do that because this story has a rather different tone.

Warnings: Slash, and this time it's going to get more serious, also: first fight scene I've written in I don't know how long...

In the Long Shadows

I.

For their first adventure together after such a long hiatus, Thor would never have expected or desired this outcome. He had Loki at his side, sure enough, but his brother was weak and feverish, wracked by the poisonous bite he received from a vicious beast known as a wormbjorn.

It all began the evening where they all celebrated their latest victory a little too enthusiastically. That night he had somehow managed to make a complete mess of his relationship with both Sif and Loki, while at the same time drinking enough to blot out all the memories relevant to his offences. Sif had been forgiving, Loki had not.

Loki had taken to ignoring Thor completely and refusing to go along with the group on their little "outings." The most unfortunate point of all was that, of what he remembered, he and Loki had been getting along better than they had in years. Thor was so hopeful they were finally returning to the closeness they shared when younger. But, apparently he had done something heinous enough to outweigh whatever ground they had gained, and, of course, Loki would not tell him what it was or what he could do to mend things between them.

The Warriors Three shrugged it off as one of Loki's moods, and Sif counseled him even more strongly to let his brother alone, with an impassioned, "If the serpent wants to sulk in his hole, I say let well enough alone and have done with him!"

Later, Thor reflected that he should not have been as surprised by her vehemence as he was at the time. Whatever had happened that night, it had exacerbated Sif and Loki's already strained relationship.

His friends did not seem to understand Thor's continued desire to include Loki in their doings. They were dissatisfied with his reasons always questioned him. It was obvious they were not satisfied with his answers, and he stopped bringing the topic up when they began to give him odd looks.

Because he no longer had an outlet for his concerns, he felt such great relief when Loki finally relented and agreed to go on a journey with them that he did not even think to question his brother's reasons for choosing that particular time.

What should have been a relatively leisurely late-autumn hunting trip in the forests of Vanaheim turned out to be much more deadly. The forest had been unusually bare of game, with few birds and fewer beasts. The first evening they began to make camp the party was set upon by an enraged wormbjorn. Not usually native to Vanaheim, the wormbjorn was massive in size with a shaggy coat, a long tail, and wickedly curved claws and fangs. There had been no signs of a large predator and they were taken completely unawares.

With one swipe of its paw the creature pitched the rotund Volstagg into the half-raised tents, effectively ensnaring the red-head for the rest of the battle. Next it knocked Hogun and Sif back with a single swoop of its tail, letting out a tremendous bellow.

Fandral had enough time to draw his blade, but the wormbjorn simply ignored the weapon as it struck the swordsman and bowled him over. He was forced to quickly scramble away to escape the beast's claws, blade screeching as Fandral used it to deflect them.

Hoping to end things quickly, Thor struck out at the creature's head with mjölnir. However, he had seriously underestimated its speed. With a flash of intuition he realized the wormbjorn would bite him with its dripping fangs before he could land his blow. Thor attempted to pull back, though he knew it was too late, when he was suddenly thrust to the side and nearly knocked off his feet. One fang left a long mark in Thor armor, but the beast missed, burying its head in the dirt.

It was then he saw he had his brother to thank for the timely intervention. Loki had tackled him at just the right angle to avoid merely replacing him in the creature's line of attack. But, before Thor could thank him or the scathing remarks he could see brewing behind Loki's eyes could leave his brother's mouth, the beast struck out again. The force of the blow drove Loki directly into Thor's chest and sent them both reeling. That's when they noticed the smoke rising from where the beast's fang had bit into Thor's armor. Quickly looping their arms around each other, the brother's stumbled back into the forest. Fortunately, the beast was distracted by the other warriors and their escape went unnoticed.

Once past the first line of trees, they quickly divested Thor of his armor. The fang's venom had corroded the outer armor swiftly and begun to eat into his undergarments. If they had taken any longer, Thor may have suffered serious burns.

"You idiot!" Loki hissed, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention, "Did you pay no attention when our tutor covered beastlore! The wormbjorn's bite is lethal, even to us!"

Thor could hear the scorn dripping from every word, and knew his brother was doing everything to keep from shouting at the top of his voice. Loki's tone made Thor want to shout back in indignation, he could handle a simple beast! But before the words left him Loki stumbled and Thor saw the gaping wounds across his brother's back. A sudden vision of the blow that knocked them together flashed through his mind, and he knew that was when the wormbjon's claws tore into Loki. Thor was shocked his brother had not cried out louder.

His anger immediately drained away and he took Loki by the arm and turned him just enough to glace at the wound, "Brother, you are injured," he wished the concern he felt did not touch his voice, but the slight quiver would be unmistakable to one as clever as Loki.

"It is nothing," a blatant lie, judging from the amount of blood and the strain in Loki's voice, "do not concern yourself."

"Loki—"

"Leave me! Or would you abandon your friends in their hour of need?"

From their position Thor could see the agile Sif, Hogun and Fandral keeping the beast at bay by dividing its attention, but it was obvious they were wearing down quickly. Thor felt himself divided between his desire to insure his brother's safety, and his duty to his friends and the call of battle. Eventually duty won out, "Stay here, brother, I must finish this."

Thor rejoined the fray not a moment too soon. The beast managed to knock Sif away with its tail and came close to mauling Hogun, who managed to avoid being pierced by the wormbjorn's fangs by a hair's breadth. He noticed that the beast had a tendency to rear up and pause just before striking with lightning swiftness. If only the creature would do so when Thor had a clear shot…

Just as Thor was swinging Mjölnir while pondering how to bring this about, Volstagg freed himself from the fallen tents with a triumphant shout. The beast immediately turned and reared, bared its fangs, and prepared to strike. Thor let his hammer fly.

His aim was true and the powerful blow toppled the wormbjorn, stunning it and sending it to the ground with a great crash. The other warriors quickly moved in the finish the job.

As soon as he was sure of the beast's fate, Thor went in search of his brother. He was not surprised to find Loki had crawled to the edge of the clearing—his brother rarely followed injunctions to stay put. Thor's fond, half-smile at the thought was quickly wiped away when he saw how pale Loki was, sweat dripping from his brow, his entire frame trembling.

Thor quickly took his brother in his arms and turned him to get a clearer view of his back. Besides its poisonous bite, the wormbjorn's claws must have also been tainted, for Thor had never seen a fresh wound turn rotten so quickly. Through Loki torn, blood stained garments, he could see the jagged gouges had turned an alarming shade of purple mixed with a greenish-yellow puss, and wound smelt foul. Thor wanted to peel the clothes away to get a better look, but when he began to tug, Loki cried out, "No! Leave it!"

"Brother, your wound must be seen to."

"It burns… like fire," he said between spasms of pain, "Something is wrong… I must… see a healer…"

"Yes, of course," said Thor, shedding his cloak to make an improvised bandage to protect the wound form further contamination.

Glancing up, Thor called out, "Fandral, do you remember which direction the last farmstead we passed is from here?"

Some distant part of Thor's mind recognized he could not be trusted to choose the correct direction, not with something prickling in his gut that felt suspiciously like fear. If he took command of the situation, perhaps his friends would not pick up on it.

"The one with the pretty maid?" said Fandral, "Ah… yes, it should be just a little south and east from here."

Fandral and the others stood attentively, but a safe distance away. Loki was known to be temperamental when injured—well, more temperamental that usual.

"Hogun, do you know the way?" asked Thor while finishing the last knot on his makeshift bandage.

"Yes."

Thor nodded. He trusted Hogun more than any of the others, even himself, to be aware of his surroundings—except, perhaps, Loki. "Make sure you and Fandral agree. Sif and Volastagg? See to our things with Hogun once they are finished. Fandral, with me."

His friends followed his orders swiftly, he could see them turning to their tasks before he had even finished speaking. By the time he had hefted Loki up onto his shoulders, Fandral was already waiting at his side.

Letting out a painful whine, Loki said, "You should rig… a stretcher."

"There is no time," said Thor, and he felt it to be true deep in his being.

He could hear it in his brother's fading voice. Any second wasted could spell his end. Thor, true to his suspicions, almost set of in the wrong direction until Fandral pointed and said, "This way."

They struck out into the forest, Thor pushing mercilessly forward. Though burdened, he could hear Fandral's harsh breaths as he struggled to keep pace. As well as a guide, Thor had brought his friend in case he wearied, but although his shoulders ached and his muscles began to burn, he knew with a creeping certainty that nothing would induce him to set his brother down until they reached their destination.

The homestead became visible through the trees just as the sun was setting. Long shadows from the forest trees stretched over the small farmhouse, its open window a small pinprick of light in the gloom. Fandral announced their arrival, and a silhouette appeared in the door frame as it opened. After that, Thor's memories became a blur. The discussion to send the farmer's son for the nearest healer, the arrival of the remainder of their band, his supposed temper Sif scolded him for later: all were nothing compared to Loki's deteriorating state, mere wraiths on the periphery of Thor's awareness.

They had laid Loki on the only table in the room. It never occurred to Thor that this was probably the only large table the family owned, bare planks worn smooth by countless meals, countless scrubbings. All he could see was that it made such a woefully crude bed for his brother.

When the healer arrived the atmosphere of the entire room changed. She was a woman of that indeterminate age somewhere between no-longer-young and old. She had deep wrinkles around squinty eyes, which had the uncanny tendency to flash when they caught the light. It was with this piercing look and her aura of authority that she shooed Thor, his friends, and the farmer and his offspring into another room, retaining only his wife as an assistant. A rebellious part of Thor wanted to protest, to demand to be at Loki's side, but something about the woman's weathered hand on his shoulder made her harsh demands kind.

Then came the wretched waiting. Sometimes one of Thor's friends would attempt to speak, to draw him into conversation, sometimes one of them would give a weak laugh to an even weaker joke, but he could not help but feel the most gratitude towards Hogun, who remained silent. At some point Thor allowed himself to merely gaze at the door, there was no reason to feign interest in anything else.

In a moment as unexpected as it was anticipated, the healer entered, letting the group take in her presence before beginning to patiently explain what she had done. Thor could only remember the bare bones of what she said, so distracted were his thoughts. The wound was infected. She had done all she could to neutralize the poisonous infection and treat his external injuries, but much of the toxin had already worked its way into his system. The rest Loki's body would have to cure on its own. Because of the poisoning, Loki's natural healing would be inhibited. He would present flu-like symptoms, but should recover. She also left them with instructions on how to change the bandages and apply the ointment to keep the wound clean.

The farmer gave them use of a room. There was some discussion of compensation, of arranging a place for the other warriors to stay, but Thor had no patience for minutiae and left it all in his friends' capable hands. Once Loki was laid in the bed, pale and weak, Thor felt an unknown knot of tension inside release. At least Loki now smelt of herbs and bandages instead of infection.

As he took Loki's hand in his own, guilt finally began to replace worry as a heavy mass in the pit of his stomach. This was his brother, who he was supposed to protect. How was it they always ended up like this? It had been years since Loki needed defending, if he ever did, and his temperament had become such that Thor knew his brother would take any unasked for assistance as an insult—or at least, he would take it very poorly and with bad grace. But now, all that was stripped away, and Thor was forced to admit he still felt that strong need to protect his younger brother.

Thor tried to imagine how things could have gone differently, but he had never been good at reasoning out possible alternatives. In the end, he could only hold Loki's hand and hope that tomorrow he would begin to heal, and maybe they could begin again.

A/N: As always, I'd love to hear what you thought :) And thank you for reading!