*

The spirit picked it's way across the ground, open eyes searching. It flew up to the room's ceiling, then swung down again, howling. It thrashed about, hungry and longing. It swirled across the ground, ducking and swooping. Finally, it stopped before a limp form. A human corpse lay sprawled across the floor, blood seeping from it. The spirit sucked at the air, coming ever closer to the body laying before it... "Fenrir!" The spirit snapped around, bewildered. Another form, upright and alive, detached itself from a shadowy doorway. The man strode towards the lurking presence. "You'll find no prey there." The spirit looked back for a moment, eyes rolling wildly in confusion. "Whhhhhyyyyyyy...." The words came a stagnant gasp, and the man scowled. "He is not for you. Fate marked him, and it is not done." The spirit hung there silently for a moment, then let out a wail of sheer anger. Swirling up into a larger mass, it towered over the man, crying out. It dove down, bearing straight at him. The man stood there. Inches away from the man's face, the spirit slowed to a stop. "Cccuuurrrrrssse ffaaate..." It subsided, sinking slowly to the ground, dissapointed. The man shook his head slowly. "Not for you, Fenrir. Not for you." He stood attentivly as the spirit let out a slow, deep sight of defeat. "Wwhhhhaaaatt tthhennnn?"