62. Interlude: Wolf, Lion, God (IV)

That detestable yet admirable Fenrisian was humming a song—low and drawn-out, its melody gentle, yet like a blade being drawn across someone's throat.

His voice was not particularly clear, but it was enough to pierce the surrounding wind and snow and reach the King's ears. In truth, to his hearing, the sounds Leman Russ kept making in his throat at that moment could hardly have been obscured by anything.

He heard every syllable and pause with perfect clarity, but it brought him no pleasure, because the song was truly strange.

The King had, of course, heard many songs: stirring and majestic ones, sorrowful and plaintive ones. No style was unfamiliar to him, including those primal howls that had flowed from Fenris into the galaxy.

Before his memories had been steeped in blood, the Fenrisian he had known had personally sung several songs at a feast. They had already been strange enough, either born from priests' prayers or fashioned from pre-battle roars, but none of them could compare to the song he was hearing now.

It should not have been sung by men, nor should it have been heard by men. So the King thought, as a genuine chill spread through his heart, forcing him to grip his sword more tightly.

Likewise, the Hunter disliked the song as well, but he accepted it. Why? The reason was simple: it helped him kill more effectively.

Steaming, foul blood had long covered his entire body, leaving only his eyes bright. His bloodstained golden hair flashed now and then amid the snow, like ten million sharp blades piled together, dancing savagely with his movements.

And what he felt at that moment was like returning to Terra, returning to that place where everything ended, where blood ran in rivers and corpses carpeted the ground.

His