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Layer One: The Wild Hunt

Once upon a time, there was a vast, dark forest…

It was autumn, but the late-evening breeze was still warm. Twelve-year-old Kurt Wagner shielded his golden eyes from the glare of the setting sun and peered out over the fields of freshly bundled hay. The rich, earthy scent was glorious as he crouched on his favorite tree branch, his book propped open on one knee. It was a perfect moment—still and serene—yet it was one the boy knew would end all too soon. The sun's bright glow was already deepening in the west, and the wind was beginning to shift. It was time he packed up his books and started back through the dense wood to the traveling circus he called home.

Kurt's foster mother, the Gypsy sorceress Margali, had warned her young ward time and again to guard against his instinctive wanderlust. The Black Forest was a dangerous place when darkness fell. The shadows of the trees had shielded many a scurrilous deed. But Kurt was a resourceful boy, and he knew the forest well. Despite all the legends he'd been told about the thieves and demons that were said to prowl the darkened woods, the prospect of walking the narrow paths at night held no fear for him. His adolescent confidence had him convinced his night-vision and superhuman agility could defend him against any evil. That, and the special silver talisman Margali had given him long ago to wear around his neck. All she had said at the time was that the ornate charm was destined to save his life one day. Kurt had scoffed at her concern, but from that day on the boy had never been seen without it.

Kurt had been walking for nearly an hour, and it was starting to get cold. The sun was long gone now, but the moon had not yet risen. Kurt shivered despite himself, adjusting his pack on his shoulders as he strode brusquely through the crisp, fallen leaves that littered the path. The camp couldn't be too much further.

Suddenly, he paused, his sensitive pointed ears pricked and alert. Was it his imagination, or was that a wolf howling in the distance? No, not a wolf—dogs. Somewhere in the forest, a pack of hunting dogs were on the prowl. If they should catch his scent—

Kurt quickened his pace until it was nearly a run, his breath growing ragged as he stumbled through the leaves. Hoof beats—he could feel the vibration through the firm earth, pounding down the path behind him. There were two horses, maybe three, the sound of their drumming hooves accompanied by the panting, sniffling whines of dogs on the chase.

"Ach, Gott," Kurt gasped, running in earnest now as he scanned the blackness below the trees for somewhere to hide. Beyond the path, twisted tangles of green brambles rose as high as his head, creating an impenetrable wall of thorns on both sides. It seemed Kurt was trapped.

He could hear the voices of the huntsmen now, the eager shouts and laughter sending chills down his spine. And then, he saw them—two ghostly shadows riding high on their galloping steeds. Kurt stared in frantic terror as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the path, struggling to slide as much of his body as he could under a small gap he'd seen in the briars. No sooner had he forced his way in, however, than the dogs he'd heard were upon him.

They came in a pack, biting and yapping as they scratched at the hardened dirt, trying to snag his tail with their claws. There were seven dogs that he could see, their muscles rippling beneath pelts as black as pitch. Their eyes burned through the shadows like red embers; their pointed teeth gleamed like freshly sharpened daggers. Kurt wrapped his tail around his chest, curling himself into as tight a ball as possible. Sharp thorns dug into his back, shoulder, and thigh, but that small pain was nothing if it kept him away from those snapping teeth.

"Go away!" he hissed desperately, tears of terror stinging his eyes. "Please—just leave me alone! I'm not what you want—go away!"

"Hold there!"

Kurt's blood froze in his veins as a pair of high, leather riding boots strode fearlessly through the pack of snarling dogs to stand right in front of Kurt's hiding place. "What's in there, boys?" the hunter said, crouching down to peer through the briars. "What did you find?"

"Stand back!" the second hunter snapped. Unlike the first hunter, who had sounded almost playful, this man's voice was deep and commanding. The first hunter shared a look with the dogs, then obligingly rose to his feet.

"They must have found a rabbit, sir," he said. "Or perhaps even a deer. Shall I go in and—"

"I said stand back!" the commanding voice repeated, urging his horse a few steps closer. Kurt gasped out loud as he realized the man's gray horse had eight legs.

"It couldn't be…Sleipnir…" he breathed, his pulse pounding in his ears as he realized at last just who these hunters were. Somehow, he had stumbled directly into the path of the legendary Wild Hunt. If that was true, then the man who had just spoken could be none other than—

"Odin, what is going on?" the first hunter asked, his tone growing slightly suspicious as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You know what's in there, don't you."

"Loki," the cloaked man frowned, his single eye burning white under the brim of his tattered hat, "I'm not going to tell you again. Stand back and allow our quarry to rise."

The tall red-head sighed, but did as Odin had asked, whistling for the dogs to follow. As for Kurt, the last thing he wanted was to leave his hiding place. However, as soon as the dogs had gone, Kurt found himself crawling out onto the path. It was like he was in a dream, watching from the sidelines as he brushed the dirt from his jeans and straightened to face the hunters. Loki gasped, his vibrant green eyes widening at the sight of him.

"What in all the-- Why, I've never seen anything like it!" he exclaimed. He started forward, clearly fascinated, but Odin grabbed his shoulder, warning him to keep back.

"Tell me your name, my son," the cloaked man said with surprising gentleness, his lone eye glowing like a white-hot cinder. Kurt swallowed hard, but just as when he'd been forced to climb out of his hiding place, he found himself compelled to answer.

"Kurt," he whispered, then he cleared his throat. "Kurt Wagner. Um, sir."

The cloaked man looked thoughtful, combing his fingers through his long, white beard.

"Kurt Wagner," he said, his deep voice rumbling low in the boy's sensitive ears. "Do you know who I am?"

"Y-Yes, sir. I-I think so."

"Who am I?"

Kurt bit his lip nervously, his golden gaze fixed on Sleipnir's eight powerful legs.

"You are Odin, sir," he answered at last. "Chief god of the ancient Scandinavian and Germanic tribes. They called you the All-Father. You're the ruler of the gods of Asgard. I—I've read many tales about you."

"And me?" the lanky red-head grinned, casually brushing his hair away from his eyes. "If you know about him, you've surely heard about me too."

"You're Loki," Kurt told him, his stomach giving a funny twitch as he said it. "You're the god of mischief and deceit and a skilled shapeshifter. Some stories also say you're the god of fire, and that you and Odin became blood brothers after he invited you to join the gods of Asgard."

Loki looked disappointed. "Is that all? After all I've done for mankind, you think there'd be more than just that. I mean, who do you think invented the fishing net? Or what about—"

"Enough, Loki," Odin interrupted pointedly. Loki glowered for a moment, then stalked off to play with the dogs. Odin watched him go, then turned his attention back to Kurt, his expression stern. Kurt's back stiffened and his tail gave an involuntary twitch.

"Our time in this place is limited," the god rumbled. "We have only until the moon rises to complete our hunt. You must ride with us."

Kurt blinked, taken completely off guard. "Ride with you? But—but I have to get home! Mama must be worried by now, and—"

"You have witnessed our hunt. You have gazed upon the faces of the gods. You may never go home."

"What!" Kurt exclaimed, too upset to watch his words. "But that's not fair! It's not my fault your dogs chased me! I've got to go back!"

"He can ride with me," Loki offered from where he was teasing the largest dog with a stick. Unlike the others, this one was an oddly mottled brown in color. "I want to know what else these humans have been saying about me." He paused, shooting Kurt a strange, sly look. "You are a human, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm human!"

"But you're under some kind of curse, right? What did you do, insult a giantess or something?"

"I didn't insult anybody! I was born this way!"

"Oh." Loki winced, his sharp features softening in sudden sympathy. "I'm sorry, kid, I didn't know. My own children aren't much to look at either. I mean, look at Fenris here." He gestured to the largest of the dogs. "It's only when Odin and I go hunting that I'm allowed to take him off his lead. And poor Jörmungandr—the Midgard Serpent—he's even worse off, stuck at the bottom of the sea. At least you look kind of human, right?"

Kurt shrugged, not sure whether to feel offended that Loki was comparing him to his brood of monsters or relieved that at least one of the gods was starting to be nice to him. He didn't have much time to figure it out, either, because just then Odin pulled up in front of them on Sleipnir. Kurt suddenly remembered that the eight-legged stallion was also one of Loki's children.

"That's enough talk," Odin frowned. "We must be on our way. The moon will be rising soon."

Loki smirked. "You make it sound so dramatic. It's not like we'll vanish in a puff of smoke if the moonlight hits us."

"We leave now," Odin stated flatly, as if he hadn't heard. "Call the dogs."

Loki rolled his eyes toward Kurt, then nimbly hopped up onto his own four-legged horse, hauling the boy up in front of him.

"Do you know how to whistle, Kurt Wagner?" the god asked, his crafty green eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Sure I do," Kurt asserted. "Stefan—he's my brother—he taught me."

Loki grinned. "All right, then," he said. "When I give the signal I want you to whistle as loud and as long as you can. Ready?"

Kurt nodded, starting to feel excited despite the fact he was being kidnapped by a pair of dangerously unpredictable ancient deities.

"Then let's go!"

With a swift kick, the horse was off, galloping after Sleipnir and Odin towards what looked like a bridge made of rainbows. Kurt stared in awe as he realized that had to be the Bifröst Bridge which joined the earth with Asgard, the realm of the ancient gods.

Kurt's awed trance was shattered by a gentle, yet firm whap upside the head. "How can you be deaf with ears like that?" Loki scolded from behind him. "I said whistle!"

Kurt gave a start. "Oh, right!" Most of the dogs were already following them, led by Loki's son, the wolf Fenris. Three of them, however, were still nosing about in the prickly underbrush. Sticking his fingers in his mouth, Kurt whistled as hard and as long as he could, just as Loki had told him. The wayward dogs immediately pricked their ears and started pelting down the path. Kurt reflected that from high up on a horse, the enormous dogs didn't look half as frightening as they had on the ground. Loki laughed and ruffled Kurt's curly, indigo hair.

"Couldn't have done it better myself," he grinned. "Now hang on tight—it's a steep climb. We wouldn't want you to fall off!"

Kurt leaned forward to hug the horse's neck and watched as the world he knew slowly faded out behind them. It was only then that he realized he might never see his circus family again!

More coming soon! Stay tuned!