Ulfrir paused in his destruction, lips curling back in a snarl as he regarded Jarl Störr. Skuld looked down at Elvar, waiting. A memory, of her mother screaming, of her father’s fist rising and falling. Elvar nodded. “No,” she saw her father’s lips move. Skuld threw Jarl Störr into the air, spinning, and Ulfrir’s jaws lunged, snapped about him. There was a muffled scream, the crunch and crackle of bone and then blood was trickling over Ulfrir’s matted lips.
