Loki's voice brought Thor up short as the Thunderer made to pursue the wolf.

"Let him go! Stark needs assistance."

Thor reluctantly came to where Loki stood over Tony. He didn't return Mjolnir to his belt. "How bad?"

"Hard to say, really. He appears to be incredibly hard to kill—so I doubt I'm so lucky," said Loki as he nudged Stark's body with his foot. "J.A.R.V.I.S., is he breathing?"

"Mr. Stark's respiration falls within normal parameters—if a bit shallow. Other life signs are similarly low—if not life threatening at the moment." He paused. "There appears to be blood on my speakers. It is most distressing."

"Ah. Perhaps it is time to call in the cavalry."

"Already done, sir. Captain Rogers and Dr. Banner are on their way along the road. Agent Barton appears to be much closer."

Thor frowned. "Why is Agent Barton so near?"

Loki leaned against a tree trunk. "Following me, I suppose. It would seem my hawk doesn't trust me anymore." He placed his hand melodramatically above his heart. "It wounds me."

Crouching down next to Iron Man's still form, Thor placed his hand companionably on his shoulder. "Can you help him?"

"I haven't the magic to waste on him," said Loki. He raised his hands placatingly as Thor rose to his feet, eyes promising to make Loki do something. "Peace. This isn't spite. His wounds will keep until Banner and his star-spangled nurse arrive. And even what magic I have may well not be enough."

"Enough to do what?" asked Thor.

A shadow passed over Loki's face. "What indeed." He cocked his head slowly to the side, casting his eyes about the clearing. "It would seem Agent Barton has joined us."

"Thor, tell me you're not chumming around with your nut-job brother over Tony's dead body," said Clint. He stepped from the woods, bowstring taut, fletching brushing his cheek. "Cause I really want to rub it in his face how right I was about all of this."

Thor slid between Loki and Clint's arrow.

Clint's eyes narrowed. "I'm thinking you don't quite understand line of sight."

"Tony Stark has been injured, but help follows close behind you," said Thor.

"And how exactly did he wind up looking like a mangled can of Chicken of the Sea? Unless there are some big-ass bears in these hills, I'm looking at the only two suspects."

"It was Book," said Loki as he stepped from behind Thor. He couldn't quite pull his gaze away from the arrow—or rather the muscles of Clint's right hand that would tell him well before the arrow moved that it was on its way. Nevertheless, he couldn't cower behind Thor—no matter how deadly the metal shaft would be.

Clint laughed. "Scrawny kid, been recuperating for weeks? I'd pick your targets better. All right, I'll bite. Go on, tell me how some little kid ripped open a suit of metal armor."

"It helps that he's a giant wolf now," said Loki blandly.

Hawkeye managed to relax his guard in an elaborate show of confusion without actually letting the arrow point stray from tracking Loki's chest. "Say what now?"
"Book has transformed into a wolf of truly impressive size."

Further questions crowded upon Clint's face. Shaking himself, he focused in on Stark's form. "Okay, backburner. First we need to—a wolf, really?" He broke off to grumble to himself, "focus, Clint. How is Tony?"

"Not well, but the bleeding appears to have slowed. I am wary of moving him for fear of reopening the wounds," said Thor.

"Or skewering him with a piece of his own armor," Loki added.

"He might appreciate the irony of that," muttered Clint as he finely released the tension of his bow and relaxed the string. The bow slid to his side, arrow still nocked and at the ready. "Okay, coming back to the Book-is-a-wolf thing….how?"

Shrugging, Loki clasped his hands behind his back to keep from picking at them.

"Well aren't you helpful," said Clint. "The only shapeshifter around, and you don't know how a kid suddenly went all Teen Wolf on us?" He scrubbed his hand through his hair. Letting out a sharp grunt, he whirled on Loki and closed the gap between them, grass slapping against his boots. "Everywhere you go you manage to screw people up—not really surprised it happened here." Clint shook his head, a humorless smile edging across his face. "You know, the thing is, I think you actually kinda liked the kid."

A large hand clamped around Clint's shoulder and drew him away from Loki. "Let us not provoke my brother when we have need of him."

Taken aback and slightly amused, Loki quipped, "That's hardly ever stopped you."

Thor shot him a look ladened with hundreds of years of long-suffering irritation. "Is now really the time?"

"It's always the time," Loki countered lightly. He turned to Clint. "You're not wrong. I have—as you say—screwed Book up."

"And the how part?" asked Clint.

"By saving his life of course." Loki paused and let the words drift down into the drying grasses. The creek's splashing surged in the space of their silence.

"Your blood," said Thor as he closed his eyes. "It's not really the magic—it's your blood."

Loki grimaced. "The magic's certainly not helping matters."

"Non-alien right here—totally lost," interjected Clint, throwing his arms wide in annoyance.

"I am a shapeshifter by birth, not by magic. It as a talent carried in my blood."

"The same blood that now fills Book's veins," continued Thor.

Barton pressed a hand to his temple, taking short harsh strides, first in one direction, then another. "And what, Book's somehow triggered this and went all Kujo on us?"

Exquisitely raising an eyebrow, Loki blinked. "You share a table with one who turns green and monstrous when agitated—yet you have trouble with Book similarly transforming after having his trust betrayed."

"Why a wolf?" asked Thor. "When you first transformed it was into a cat."

Knitting his hands behind him, Loki turned and looked up at the night sky. "The first transformation is always into a creature with which the shifter bears some kind of kinship or similarity in personality."

"And the bookworm is getting in touch with his inner predator? I'm just not seeing it." Clint dug his boot into the ground. "A chinchilla maybe…but a wolf? How exactly are you planning on de-wolfing him? I only carry silver-tipped arrows on special occasions."

Loki continued to stare up at the sky, hands clasped to the small of his back. Somewhere beyond the low slung clouds the stars burned with ancient fire. They glimmered like strings of beads caught in the branches of Yggdrasil. At its heart, Skuld was watching him. Watching him and keeping tight rein on his magic.

There was no point in asking. She did not give it when Book lay hollowed at his feet, why would she give it now? His thoughts returned to the spark of an idea he'd stumbled across in the passages of his mind. It fairly reeked of crazy. A gift, my lady? he thought with a knowing smirk. She had herded him toward blood magic, why not to this as well?

He glanced over his shoulder at the others. "Thor, I am going to need your hammer."

"You know you cannot wield it…" Thor trailed off as Loki dismissively waved his hand.

"Yes, yes, not worthy, etc. I don't need its strength…I need its magic."

"Will that work?" asked Thor. Skepticism furrowed his brow. "Can you draw power from Mjolnir as you are now?"

A quick smile cut across Loki's face, "you mean hobbled as I am?" He seemed to mull over the idea. There was always the possibility that he would burn under the might of the star-forged hammer. He turned to Thor. "I see no reason why I couldn't."

Clint closed the gap between them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa are you saying that Thor can recharge you?"

Loki nodded. He had to tamp down the glee at Clint's growing frustration.

The archer threw his hands in the air. "Yes, let's magically jumpstart the megalomaniac with a history of world domination. Because that's a great idea!"

"What assurance would we have that you would not use your magic for more harm? To break your oath?" asked Thor, his grip tightening on Mjolnir.

"None," said Loki. He didn't look Thor straight in the eye, only glanced sideways at him. "Merely these." Long fingers brushed back his sleeves to reveal the ritual marks still crimson against his pale flesh. He dropped the fabric back over them.

"This is a thousand kinds of bad," said Clint as he ran his hand across his eyes.

"There is no other choice," said Loki. He grabbed Thor by the upper arms like he had when they were little and he needed Thor to actually listen to what he said. "The wolf has overwhelmed him, powered by Book's pain and rage. He cannot come back to himself." He searched Thor's face. "And when he meets upon someone, he will devour them. Will you put that on his conscience?"

"I know the risk he poses." Annoyance shot through Thor's indecision. "But I have grown leery of your council."

Loki could not but incline his head in agreement. "True." He paused significantly, "but who better to deal with a shapeshifter?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Thor settled on a decision. He reached up and cupped the back of Loki's head in his hand. "I trust that you will do what is right for the boy." Glancing at Loki's arms again, as if he could see the markings hidden beneath, he extended Mjolnir.

Runes ghosted across the hammer's surface as Loki gripped either side of it. The clouds began to circle and lightning cracked around them. A burst of crackling light erupted from the hammer itself, surging through Loki's body.

Clint's exclamation was lost in the sizzling snap of energy.

For an instant, every fiber burned with magic, Mjolnir's heart discharging its power with all the finesse and grace expected of a hammer. It battered Loki, punching through to his core, colliding with the dregs of ritual magic pooled there.

The light snapped into nothingness. Loki stood in its wake, trembling. He stumbled backwards, clutching his hands to his chest.

"Brother?" asked Thor hesitantly. He stepped forward, but drew up before getting too close. He had been a slow learner, but after centuries of being burned by wild magic—Loki's or otherwise—he'd come to realize that magic was a thing he best left alone.

Curled over his hands, Loki slowly straightened. Deliberately, he unfurled his fingers. His eyes gleamed faintly as he regarded the energy sparking along his fingertips. A manic grin stretched across his features as he turned his hands over in wonderment.

"Thor," warned Clint as he knocked an arrow to his bow.

Loki's breaths came in short exited bursts as he twitched his gaze up to Clint's. The smile grew, breaking into crazed torrents of laughter. He staggered back against the tree. The wild light in his eyes dimmed as his head lolled back. The laughter subsided into a deep throated chuckle and then a shuddering sigh. "So nearly whole," he breathed.

"Brother," said Thor warningly.

Loki's eyes slid shut as he leaned limply against the tree, pressing himself into the bark. "Is that worry I hear, Prince of Asgard?" He took another shuddering breath, the hint of a smile creeping past his lips. "Don't be such a milk-sop. I am in perfect control."

"You sound drunk," said Clint.

Loki cracked open an eye and rolled his head round to gaze at the archer. "It is rather intoxicating." More than that, it was like being able to draw a full breath after months of restriction, having a limb restored, or finally having the life to do more than just trudge through the day. He savored it, tasting the sweetness of being so nearly himself once more—no longer a husk or shadow.

Pushing away from the tree, he schooled his features though the rush of power still ran riot through him. He ignored the small voice that told him now was his chance to be rid of them all. He shook himself. It was time for the next step. "Let us see what the wolf makes of magic."

Apparently Thor thought he was part of the next step. "I go with you," he said, adjusting his grip on Mjolnir.

Loki just sighed and gave a small, almost fond smile. "To do what exactly? Beat on him with your hammer? We do not wish to kill him, and I am not entirely sure he cannot kill you. And though it would be a sight to see, I'd rather he not try his jaws on you again."

Argument boiled up in Thor. "You listen well, brother. I will not let you face this beast alone."

Rubbing his temple, Loki sank back against the tree. "Will you never learn? Not all problems can be solved by beating them with whatever blunt object comes to hand. The fewer people approaching Book the better." Loki glanced up from beneath hooded brows. His look was filled with a resigned confidence. "This will take magic, not might. Strategy, not strength." He laughed, "And you, dear brother are ill-suited to the task."

It was natural, the words sliding off his lips as if they were always meant to be there and had never left. Thor cocked his head, wondering whether he had imagined it. Then he thrust out his hand. For a second, Loki hesitated. Then his hand wrapped around the cool metal of Thor's bracers. Thor in turn gripped him by the forearm, massive hand nearly cupped completely around Loki's arm.

"We will see Tony Stark is safely on his way."

"Whoa, wait. You're leaving this one up to him. He caused this whole mess!" said Clint as he got to his feet from tending to Tony.

"I had help," muttered Loki with a meaningful glance at Clint.

"And he shall fix it," said Thor, pretending not to hear.

"So he's a tracker now is he? How do you plan to find Book in all this forest?"

Almost feral amusement gleamed in Loki's eyes. Suddenly his form began to change, lengthening and stretching. Glossy fur slid across his body in rippling, iridescent black as he dropped to the ground, an extra set of front limbs sprouting, all six legs sporting arched slivers of claw. Ears and eyes disappeared as four pits opened along either side of his long, vaguely feline head. A razored smile slashed from one side of the head to the other as a whiplike tail lashed behind him. The thing turned its massive head toward Clint and grinned.

The archer stood his ground, but leaned away as Loki drew closer, the deep pits on either side of his face flaring as he sucked in Clint's scent. "If I didn't hate the Cheshire Cat before…"

"The gliss of Alfheim is one of the most fearsome trackers in the nine realms," said Thor.

"There are no eyes."

"It has no need of them."

Rearing up on his back legs, Loki swiveled slowly around, experimentally trying the wind. Ribboned scent trails webbed through the forest, appearing like colored ripples in the air. He swayed, nearly stumbling. It was too much, a riot of sensations pulling him first one way and then another. There was a reason gliss normally died if taken from their home realm. It took months and a deft hand to slowly accustom their delicate senses.

His knees buckled. Vibrations shivering up his talons told him one of the others must have shouted. Thor by the depth of it. Scents buffeted him, raging through his neurons in a whirlwind. A kind of whiteness crept upon his senses. Suddenly a presence burst red among the void. He latched onto that scent, turned all of his focus upon it, drew it in deep until it settled in his lungs and along the back of his tongue. He knew this scent. The red snapped like ozone.

In the moment of clarity, Loki reached for his borrowed magic, snarling it into the shape of a crude working and translating his own experience into the gliss' scent memories. Color bled back into the world, slowly and still a tangled mess, but now Loki could make out the misty impressions of trees and the three Avengers. Stark had a jagged amber scent of ambition and alcohol which fluttered uncertainly. At his side crouched Clint, amethyst suspicion rolling off him. And buried beneath the coil of talc and copper still glinted a speck of gleaming blue.

Though he yearned to rush after Book, Loki allowed himself a moment to breath and more fully adjust to the foreignness of this form. There was a reason he hadn't taken it to track Book in the first place. It was strange to him and if he hadn't had access to this new influx of magic, he'd never have been able to acclimatize the gliss to Earth.

Cautiously, Loki expanded his senses, the world appearing as if washed in sepia-toned mist, animal trails a colorful tangle among the shifting world. The gliss dug through layers of scent, tossing aside vole and squirrel and opossum. Each trail greyed as the gliss discarded it, sorting through the wash of scents. Loki yanked himself away from the gliss' methodical cataloging. He cast about for anything familiar.

Suddenly, he whipped round, frozen. That was not natural. He heaved in a deep breath, the red wetness of the pits spread against the blackness of his fur. Everything else faded away to a mass of grey threads, leaving only a strange, mottled beige—like aged parchment. The sound of glass sliding along an untuned violin string shrieked from his throat as Loki gave a powerful leap forward and disappeared into the trees.

He could read the anger in the trail, the black rage that seeped through it all, corrupting. But beneath the creeping dark, another scent wove ever deeper through the old parchment smell, a silver-green hiss of magic.

Spurred on by the pungent bite of rage, Loki knew he was closing in as the trail grew ever narrower, moving through the air like wake from a ship under full sail. The vibrations of a tree-snapping snarl ran through Loki. He slowed. A wolf had nothing on him when it came to tracking abilities, but it didn't mean he didn't want surprise on his side. Loki tested the wind—it was in his favor. The slice of teeth ripped open. So it began.

Slinking low to the ground, he inched forward until he came to a break in the trees. He breathed deeply and the wolf's scent boiled up into a cloudy image slicked over with thick, oily fury. Only patches of the underlying swirl showed through the dripping sludge. The ground was torn and gashed, trees splintered or ripped up by the roots. A splash of fresh blood—thankfully smelling of grass and antlers—smeared across the beast's muzzle.

The gliss part of him did not like his odds if it came to an outright battle. The Loki part of him didn't like them either. He hunkered down, still except for the subtle flick of his tail tip. Somewhere within all that bestial rage, Book was still there, shunted aside by this new form.

Paws became hands as Loki shrank back into his Aesir self. Very few creatures were really made to channel anything but the most basic of sorcery. And as he'd told Thor, the solution—if there was one, a passing thought hissed—would require magic. The glimmering of a plan seemed even more lunatic now that he found himself faced with the wolf. Alone.

The plan was tenuous at best. The true problem lay in the rather vague and unfinished nature of the plan. Loki didn't doubt that he could—probably—contain the beast for at least a short amount of time. Then he could call Book back into conscious control. He grimaced as the monster shattered a rock outcropping with a blow. The calling part still required work.

The trail of sweat down the back of his neck turned cold as an autumn breeze blew past him. He had only half a heartbeat to realize why the wind on the back of his neck was bad.

The wolf whirled, Loki's scent full in his nostrils.

Loki dove to the side, exploding shards of wood and brush showering him, teeth tearing at the spot he had been a moment before. The wolf turned, a flash of eyes through the trees, saplings snapping beneath its paws. Rolling to his feet, he winced, ignoring the burning sensation across his cheek and neck from a flying splinter. Teeth snapped between the narrow bars of two elms, the wolf straining against the deep-rooted trees.

Wood groaned as the wolf scrabbled for purchase, driving its shoulders against the wide trunks. The ground began to crack and peel back. Roots tore loose, heaving upwards. Loki darted through a tight net of trunks as the elms plummeted down, tearing a hole through the forest. The impact nearly knocked him from his feet. He needed room to maneuver.

Bursting into the clearing, he spun, expecting the wolf right behind him. The woods stayed still. Loki itched for one of his knives. Little good it would have done, but he still felt naked without them. He scanned the edge of the forest, ever wary of turning his back for too long. The growl bounced among the trees, menacing and intent.

The slight shift in shadows was all the warning he received. An iron-muscled shape barreled into him. Loki's reflexes saved him from the worst of the teeth, but the wolf still sent him tumbling nearly into the tree line. Skidding across the ground, he dropped one hand to the dirt to keep his balance, the other flinging a spell across the clearing. The wolf yelped as the greenish bolt seared its shoulder. A growl ripped from its throat as it leapt forward. An army of Lokis shimmered into existence, all grinning and brandishing bright, biting slivers of magic. Great teeth clashing together, the wolf lashed out, snapping through one shadow, then another, the others laughing and taunting. Lips peeled so far away from its teeth that the gums showed red in the darkness. The wolf thrashed right and left, fur bristling. It didn't notice the one Loki not involved in the fight.

Gathering threads of magic together, the sorcerer wove them into a powerful command, swirling his arms gently through the air. With one final thrust, he shoved his palms into the earth, jamming the working through the rock. A shockwave burst forth, shattering his remaining shadows and crashing into the wolf. The beast staggered but did not fall. It turned on Loki, green eye livid. It coiled to spring. Loki raised his hand, palm down, and flicked it over with a sharp upward tug.

Gleaming chains erupted from the earth, arching over the wolf's startled form. They sailed over his back and buried themselves into the ground, burrowing deep into the mountain stone. The chains tightened, dragging the flailing wolf into the dirt and pinning it so tightly the bindings dug into its flesh.

Claws scrabbled at the ground as Loki approached, but the chains held. Hate radiated from the wolf and its eyes—Loki's green and Book's brown—gleamed with an unsettling bloodlust. The dirt stirred with each labored breath as the great lungs heaved against the chains.

"Peace," said Loki as he approached, holding his hands up. "That is more than enough." Now that Book was restrained, the real trouble began. Loki hadn't the vaguest idea how he was to get Book to calm down enough to begin finding himself again. It simply complicated matters that Loki happened to be a less than calming influence at the moment. He shrugged. "Trial and error it is then."

He reached deep within himself and spun out a tendril of the remaining blood magic, studying the way it felt, the pulsing of silver-green so uniquely his own. An answering magic pulsed within the wolf, coursing hot through his body, trickling into every pore and crevice. Loki tentatively grazed against a sliver of his blood in Book's body.

A miscalculation. The wolf lunged, teeth tearing through fabric and flesh as Loki staggered backward, flinging up more chains about the wolf's muzzle. He clutched at the three wet gashes torn across his savaged arm. Warmth welled up between his fingers. They wouldn't kill him, but they were too deep to waste his magic on. Gritting his teeth he finished tearing away most of the ruined sleeve.

"Yes, let's bite the only one capable of helping you."

The wolf thrashed against its bindings.

"Your rage will not help you, Book. It never has. You are more than the monstrous blood in your veins. Remember." Loki searched for any sign of recognition in the beast's eyes. Only blind fury. There was nothing of the boy left to call out to.

Suddenly, his gaze snapped back to his wound, transfixed by the way the red carved its way like savage runes down his arm. Hesitantly he reached out with his good hand, fingers hovering over the torn flesh and tatters of cloth, tracing figures through the air. The glimmering of an idea began to take hold.

He strode over to the wolf, kneeling by its bound head. A deep growl reverberated through the chains. The red tongue showed behind bared teeth. Loki reached for the wolf's paw. He had needed a focusing point and now he had it.

Taking hold of his magic, he pulled from the deepest wells of his being, smelting it together with the words forming on his lips. He spoke quietly, rhythmically. "Cole, Madison, Montana, Deirdre, Simeon. Cole, Madison, Montana, Deirdre, Simeon." Over and over again the names came. Loki infused the names with every ounce of power, everything they stood for. The promise to overcome. The oath to not succumb. As the litany continued, ephemeral letters gleamed to life. The wolf began to still. They wavered, morphing into runic slashes of light. Loki's eyes threatened to roll back in his skull. It wasn't enough. There wasn't enough magic. Hands shaking, he moved one to the wolf's broad forehead. For an instant, he clung to his last drop of magic. Then he drove it into the spell. The letters flared, sinking into the wolf's fur.

Loki slumped forward, eyes sliding shut. That was all he had to give.

When he gathered the courage to look into the beast's eyes, he didn't see Book. He still saw the anger and pain. Wearily, he placed his hands together and folded them open. [Book.]

Nothing.

His heart dropped. He saw nothing but animal cunning in those eyes. Nowhere the laughter or curiosity, the eyes filled with endless questions and excitement. Loki swallowed. At one point those eyes had looked at him with something like love. He'd never deserved it, but it had been there nonetheless. And now…

Loki barely managed to prop himself up on one hand, too tired to drag himself farther away from the monster that had devoured his boy.

"I'm sorry." The words were thick, slightly slurred. "I never intended…I suppose it doesn't matter what I intended. This is the result."

Weakly, he raised a hand and rested it against the wolf's outstretched paw. Ignoring the warning growl, his fingers began to twist through the names woven into the spell. Again and again. He had no magic to give them, but he continued to silently chant the names against the thick fur. What had Book called them once? His "Hail Marys."

Eventually the moon slid over the mountain ridges, drenching Loki's slumped shoulders in moonlight. Occasionally words would slip from his lips as he knelt next to the beast, but mostly there was silence and the perpetual twitch of his fingers through the names. As the moon crept higher into the crisp sky, Loki's fingers began to slow, tightening with cold and fatigue.

"Come back, come back, come back," he murmured, tongue running over his chapped lips and a rasp beginning in his throat.

The wolf whined.

Loki's head snapped up. There was fear and confusion. There was Book. As the simmering rage slid away, the wolf's form shrank down to a less monstrous size. The chains fizzled into nothingness as they realized their job was done.

Book took a hesitant step forward, looking to Loki for explanation and comfort. Remembrance jolted through him. He paused, one paw in the air as his eyes narrowed and the fur along his back bristled. Scampering backwards, he tripped over his own feet and sat down hard.

A sigh weighted with exhaustion and relief was all that Loki would allow himself. Coughing thickly and massaging his hand, his gaze slid sideways toward Book. "We have a dilemma."

Book glared at him and snorted.

Loki raised an eyebrow at the thought he read in Book's gaze. Captain Obvious, indeed. It seemed he'd been learning to read the boy just as readily as the other way around. "You will never be human again." The wolf growled. "At least not without my aid." He peered at Book. "How desperate are you?"

Book turned his head to the side, refusing to look at Loki.

"What would you have me do?" asked Loki wearily, his hands draped in his lap. "The past is already done. Yes, I have killed—more than you even know," he toyed with a golden leaf, spinning it between his thumb and forefinger, "and I am not yet so noble as to repent of them. Monster I was born and monster I became—but what I have done to you is perhaps the most horrible of my crimes."

Book lowered his head, ears laid back.

"You doubt me? Good—I am not to be trusted," Loki staggered to his feet. "But what choice do you have? Who in this realm could help?" He swallowed against the wave of nausea rippling from his once more hollow core. Every last drop of magic had leeched into the spell. Glancing up at the cloud dotted sky, he pretended to take a moment to get his bearings though he knew Stark's house laid some miles behind him. "If you remain as you are, it is only a matter of time before death finds you—or you it. Without training, the wolf will take control. And whoever gets in your way then may not be as lucky as Stark." He turned and began strolling in the general direction of the house.

Large paws pounded against the churned earth. Book swung into view, cutting off Loki's route, eyes wide and questioning.

"It seems you and Banner have something in common now—a tendency to lose control and harm those you care about."

Taking quick, mincing steps, Book edged forward, a low whine in his throat.

Loki sighed. "Stark will likely recover with little more than some scars to impress his lady friend." He continued walking, brushing by Book. It didn't surprise him when he felt the boy padding along at his side, distaste radiating off of him.

It was some miles before a grunt from Book drew his attention. Why was the question in the boy's eyes.

"Why encompasses a great many things. Perhaps you ought to be more specific."

The boy growled and Loki merely raised an eyebrow.

"I made a deal with the Chitauri to save my own skin and escape the outer realms, both fleeing and running to what I had seen in the void." He stared up at the patches of darkened sky visible through the grasping tree branches. "Freedom is the greatest lie ever told—we are all of us slaves to a destiny we cannot change. It is better just to give in—and take what pleasures one can in the meantime," he glanced slyly at the boy, "and the Avengers were entertaining enough."

Teeth flashed in the darkness. It seemed the boy did not approve of his brand of entertainment.

And me?

"Games again, though not one of mine. You were sent to throw me onto a different path."

The boy was silent for a long while.

Did it work?

The question startled him. Skuld's unusual interest in him had placed him in situations he had never expected to find himself. He certainly felt less like he was latched onto the back of a rampaging bilgesnipe, at any moment in danger of being flung free into nothingness. That had been a mad feeling, ecstasy and terror coursing through his veins while he'd laughed at the universe. That tenuous grasp was gone now and his control felt less like a veneer than it had in a long while.

"Saving you has led into the unknown. You are an undiscovered country."

If I'm not your redemption ticket, what am I?

"Currently? A wolf," said Loki, ignoring the snort as Book rolled his eyes. He smoothed back his hair. "I saved you because it was what I wished to do." He cocked his head to the side, listening. "Isn't that right, Skuld."

The Norn slid from the tree shadows. "The boy yet lives I see." She turned toward Book and placed a pale hand on his head. "Hello, child. Know that there is worth in your suffering."

He hunched away from her touch. You did this.

"After a fashion. I do not force—merely nudge and suggest." She blinked languidly. "You do not yet understand your place in this tale. It will be clear before the end."

Don't want it.

The Norn's gaze softened. "You say that only because your gaze is narrow."

Book bristled, the hackles along his spine standing up.

"And is my gaze narrow as well?" asked Loki, the edge of challenge in his voice.

"Myopic," replied Skuld, regarding him with a half-lidded gaze. She slid backwards so that she could view them both at once. Book had unconsciously drawn closer to Loki and away from the Norn. Something in the tableau of wolf and bloody Asgardian seemed to please her. "You are nearly ready."

For what? growled Book. He sidestepped away as he realized how close he was to Loki.

"Broaden my gaze," said Loki suddenly, "Why twist the very will of Yggdrasil for me?"

Skuld twitched her head to the side. "Why indeed—ungrateful one."

The woods had gone strangely silent around them. Book stood unmoving, eyes fixed vacantly ahead of him. Stray leaves hung suspended in their downward, drifting path. Even the moisture laden air had grown still around him, thick and damp. It seemed Skuld wanted this conversation to be a private one.

Her eyes held an invitation to ask what he would, and she would answer—to a point. He straightened his shoulders. "I was the perfect villain and that is my role to play. Ragnarok is my doom. I will loose the forces of darkness upon existence itself. I will destroy everything. But not before I and all those I once held dear are gone. It is the final ending. Why me?"

Skuld's robes whispered about her feet as she floated forward. A strange, sad expression curled her mouth. Long fingers cupped Loki's cheek in a gentle caress. "Oh child, don't you know you were always one of my favorites?"

Favorites? He slid back, wariness tight across his shoulders.

The Norn smiled. "Ever since I first beheld you, clinging to your mother's skirts—I knew you were something different. Frigga came to the well herself, beset with shadowy visions of her two sons growing into enemies. She hoped the well of Urd would clear away the veil. That was when you became real—as a green-eyed babe staring in confusion at the heart of all things. Confusion and some fear of the power you felt, but could not understand." Skuld gripped Loki's shoulders in earnestness. "And then your brother—little older than you—took your hand. In all my eons, I had never seen two such great destinies tightly intertwined. I had written you as brothers on a whim—motivated by boredom. A more right choice I could not have made. I could see your destinies pulsing as one, gold and silver bound together." A hunger and unhampered joy shone through her eyes. "What a story I could tell with the two of you."

"No petty tale of revenge and usurpation. The sly younger brother coveting the elder's strength and crown—a hundred thousand times has it been written, even by lowly human wordsmiths. Envy is simple, it is expected. Rising against the darkness is hard—unlooked for."

The Norn's features tightened. "My sisters, however, are conventional. They saw you holding the flaming brand of chaos and wove you a tale of villainy and pain." She paused. "We cannot see beyond the coming darkness. For you, who can barely cast your mind a day into the future, you cannot understand the terror of it for we who can see and know all that has been and will be and even the deepest secrets of the heart. My sisters were afraid. They lashed out and wove your path of nettles."

"You did not share their fear?" said Loki.

"I was terrified. Uncertainty was not something to which I was accustomed. But I saw the chance for something new. My existence is one of watching lives to which I already know the ending. How exciting to be surprised. And you surprised me, Loki. You had so few fixed points in your life to guide you toward, and though we still prodded you toward your fate, you were constantly sliding round to the side or leaping ahead in ways rather different than we'd plan. Verthandi spent many a time cursing your name as she unraveled your knotted threads." The image these words conjured seemed to please Skuld.

"They were right," said Loki. "I've seen it—the horrors of the end. There I stand amidst it, glorying in it. Where is the chance for anything but villainy?"

Skuld pressed her slender fingers together and turned away from Loki, gazing up. Clearly she saw beyond the veil of turning leaves to the stars beyond. Likely beyond even them. "Why must Ragnarok be the end?" It was a contemplative question. "Just because our sight does not penetrate beyond its consuming fire, why must it be a horror? I will not sit quietly to make such an end as that. I would write a new story, one where that might be just the beginning. What if this flame and darkness we see is not the flame of a funeral pyre, but rather that of a fire in the forest," her hands swept toward the surrounding trees, "cleansing the old age so that a new may spring up under a fresh dawn. And you Loki, bear the destiny of this. Not as the destroyer of all things, but as the herald of what is to come." She turned and placed the back of her slender hand to his cheek. "It could be a glorious purpose."

A/N: It doesn't always pay to be the favorite of an author…we put our poor characters through so much for the sake of the story. It would seem Skuld is little different.

Things with mouths that are just too wide and have too many teeth kind of freak me out…so of course I had to put one into my story. The gliss offered up some fun opportunities to play with the way in which the world is perceived, so that somewhat makes up for the creep factor.

And now we know what Skuld's designs are on Loki—for the most part. Unfortunately it probably isn't a good thing that Book being a wolf makes her happy.

Next Week: Explanations and encounters with the Avengers as they try to figure out how exactly what to do about Book's condition.

QuiltedRose49: Well, hopefully this entry lasted you a bit longer than the last :). I was fond of that particular Tony line as well.

RedHood001: Loki influencing Book…yeah, that may not be a good thing. And I'm afraid there aren't exactly any "Gandalf moments" in here, but I wouldn't say that under the right circumstances it couldn't happen.