The Wolf Who Devoured the Moon
by Ginny McSheehan
“So, who is ready for another story?” I asked, and the crowd cheered.
“Laisrén, give us a scary one!” a voice from my audience called, and who was I to deny them?
The harvest moon, or as my people call it here in Ireland, Gealach na gcoinnlíní, hung high in the sky as my fingers plucked the strings of my lyre in a final chord. The last bundles of barley and oats had been packed away into the storehouse, and the laborers, exhausted from the long day, sat round the fire, warming themselves. Their families gathered around; serving breads, roasted vegetables, and slabs of mutton slaughtered with compliments of my patron, the Lord Dungal. I too, was compliments of the lord, sharing my melodies, and stories with these humble tenants. Their faces were long but hopeful; the harvest had been good, and they were ready to celebrate it by light of the full moon.
My eyes fell on a woman and her young child, sitting and spinning as she listened to me, her distaff in one hand and her spindle in the other. The small babe at her feet was staring across at my own legs, beneath the shadows, in which rested a shaggy animal I called Ulfred. The babe started to crawl towards him, and I kept one eye on her and one eye on the crowd as I began my story.
“I’ve told you many different tales tonight about the moon, but now I’d like to tell you one that might not have reached your ears before. This one comes from the far north across the sea.” The little girl neared the bundle of fur beneath my chair with bright eyes. She was too young to understand my story, but old enough to be intrigued by animals. It appeared she had never been bitten. Yet.
“Back in the days of old, there was a pair of siblings who told the gods that they belonged among them. The gods were offended by this and threw them to the sky to make their homes. The sister, Sól, drove the chariot of the sun, and the brother Máni drove the chariot of the moon. They drove their horses on as if their lives depended on it,” I paused, and made eye contact with a young couple curled up by the fire. “Because they did.”
At that moment, a grunt came from beneath my bench, causing the young couple to jump. Glancing down, I found the little girl tugging on a reddish-white paw. The beast lying beneath my bench opened one amber eye and looked at her. She began to giggle in delight. I ignored it and continued. By now, all of the eyes around the fire were on me.
“But what were they running from?” a young man with a ruddy face and a mouth full of mutton asked.
“Wolves. Not just ordinary wolves, mind you. These were the kin of the notorious monster Fenrir. They were large beasts, larger than ordinary wolves, and saw the sun and the moon as prey. Across the sky in the daytime, the white wolf, Sköll, chased Sól, and when night fell… The black wolf, Hati, chased Máni.”
I watched the mother put down her nearly empty distaff to turn all her attention on me, while still others stared at me, ignoring the food lest their chewing make it harder to hear my voice. The only one whose attention I did not have was the babe under the bench, but I could deal with that, since it’s not every day a child comes that close to a sleeping wolf. But the others were hanging on my every word, waiting to hear more. A small smile played on my lips. I loved my job.
“Then came the end of days. The world was crumbling because of a war between the gods. One night, Máni could no longer make out the light of his sister, Sól, and the sun on her chariot. He drove his horse as fast as it would go, the moon trailing behind him, seeking any sign of his sister. But none was to be found. And then he heard something behind him. Something he thought had been lost in the chaos.” I stopped and began tapping gently on the side of my bench, like the sound of paw falls. Each series of taps came down louder than the last, so much that I heard my wolf raise his head in annoyance and give another grunt.
“The wolf, Hati, was closing in. Máni ran, cracking his whip, pushing his horse faster than he had ever gone before.” Now with my fists, I imitated the clacking of a galloping horse’s hooves, which I am sure was giving Ulfred a headache, but it was worth it for the way everyone was on the edge of their seats, as if they were being chased as well. My hands stopped, and then slowly extended out in front of me, my palms held flat and fingers curling in on themselves. “Hati closed in on Máni…” I opened my palms wide, as if they were a set of jaws, and then, after a dramatic pause, slapped them shut with a loud clap, making several people jump. “He was caught in the jaws of the wolf. Much to Máni’s surprise, he found that the wolf who had been chasing him was a she-wolf. But she offered him no mercy, and swallowed Máni whole.”
The mother crossed herself, and I heard a few gasps along with the sputtering of wine.
“When the world was remade, Máni emerged from the gut of the beast, letting the skin fall to the earth. And that is why we have the moon in the sky today.” I gestured to the large, bright moon above my head, and the crowd began to applaud.
At the sound marking the end of the story, the beast below me gave a loud huff, as if he were unimpressed. When I peeked down below my feet, I saw him resting his head on the child’s chubby legs and closing his eyes again. The mother peered with me and reached for the little girl, but she found herself stopping and looking with shock, and then with admiration.
“Master bard, your hound is quite tame.” she said as the little girl tugged at the furry ears. Ulfred gave her a lick, which made her laugh more.
“He is when he wants to be,” I said, looking down at him with a smirk. “He would never hurt a child, she is perfectly safe.” I reached down and patted the girl’s head, and then allowed my hand to brush against the corner of the wolf’s ear. He made a small grunt, resting his head against the girl once again.
Content that Ulfred was content, I looked at the people who remained before the fire. Many had gone to bed, happy but exhausted from today’s work, yet a few remained, laughing and drinking as the last of the logs burned out. I knew that their lives weren’t easy, but they still could put together a good feast and showed their appreciation for the stories I wove them. I could not ask for more from my audience.
The moon was far lower in the sky by the time I staggered to the bed that had been set up for me in the back of a barn. It was a clear night, and the ajar window let both cool air and moonlight trickle in. I could have had better accommodations. Any family would have given the Lord’s bard their own bed, but privacy was a must when it came to my hound. A barn suited me just fine. I watched the wolf step into the barn, glancing from side to side and stretching. He then threw his head back, as if he were determined to gaze through the roof and into the starry sky. Instead, I watched the fur roll like a hood from his brow. The man within the wolf stood, as the fur fell from his shoulders it became a pelt, and his paws became hands and feet. He stood up straight and tall, looked to the straw bed, and flopped down on top of it.
“You spent the whole night sleeping at my feet, and now you’re going to hog my bed without so much as a hello?” My hands were on my hips, and I leaned down to stare at the wolf turned man. His light blue tunic had trim along the edge in the tablet woven style of his people, the seams of it reinforced and patched many times over. His red beard and long red hair were prematurely flecked with white, but since he was regularly dealing with the world as a wolf, that was the least of his problems.
“I was guarding you,” he said as he sat up and put a hand out. “Pass the ale.”
“Demanding, aren’t we?” I said as I took a seat on the edge of the bed and handed him the wine skin I had been gifted earlier. He pulled out the cork with his teeth and took a long swig, then passed it back to me. “You did a great job defending me from that small child.”
“Someone had to do it.” He stretched out with his hands behind his head, staring up at the moon from between the wooden beams.
“So, what did you think of my story?” I asked, taking a drink of my own. He didn’t look at me, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the sky. “That good, huh?”
“Hmph,” he grunted. I rolled onto my side and reached out to take his hand into my own.
“Hmph? Is that all I get? I am fond of that story. My mentor Oski taught it to me. Being a Dane, I thought he would help me get it right.”
“It doesn’t matter that he’s a Dane. He’s a human, and humans don’t know what actually happened.” He rolled over to face me, and his amber eyes met my own.
“Really now?” I took a seat on the edge of the bed and reached out to run a hand over his red hair, resembling the coat of the wolf that he became. He reached up and took my hand into his, lightly kissing the side of it.
“Really.” He said as he met my eyes. “I know you’re doing your best. But that was how humans tell the story. Wolves tell it differently.” I raised my brow, fingers wrapping around his hand.
“Oh? Well, now you have to share it with me.”
“You know I’m no good at telling stories.” His amber eyes narrowed at me. I stared right back at him.
“I don’t care. You need to tell it now. I won’t let you sleep until you do.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I reached for my lyre from the side of the bed and started to strum. “I’ll sing the obnoxious song about the goose if you’re not careful.” A low growl escaped his throat.
“Fine. But don’t expect me to tell it like you do. I’m not a skald.”
“I’m well aware of that, my dear wolf.” I set the lyre down and gave him a smile. He sat up and tilted his head, looking through the cracked window, where a sliver of the harvest moon could still be seen.
“Máni, that’s the god of the moon, was separated from his sister Sól.” Ulfred paused and his brows furrowed as he struggled to find the words to tell his own story. I reached over and gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. “Sól, she’s the sun goddess, and she had been forced to pull the chariot of the sun. He wanted to find her and rescue her, but she was on the opposite side of the galaxy, and she, like the sun, was always in the daylight.”
Ulfred stopped again and hummed.
“So what did he do about it?” I asked.
“Well, Máni had no choice but to follow the day…”
☾
The celestial road that stretched before Máni was littered with stars, each as beautiful as a diamond and twice as sharp. Every day, Máni traveled the vast road, forcing one foot in front of the other no matter how worn out his turn shoes were, or how tired his legs became. With each step he took, the darkness closed in further, the tips of the stars ready to bite his feet like shards of rock in the road.
“Sól… I’ll make it to you.”
The light on the horizon shrank as he walked, and soon it would be time for him to mount the chariot and ride across the night sky. Another day was over, and another night would begin. This marked another failure, another day where he couldn’t reach his sister. Sure enough, the horse that bore the chariot which held the moon trotted up to him, his silver mane swishing with a flick of his head.
Máni reached for the chariot reins, ready to pull himself on, as he always did. But tonight, the despair of not reaching his sister fell upon him like an avalanche. He sank to the ground, his tears plopping onto the toggles of his shoes. Throwing his head up high, he let out a wail of grief.
The wail was answered by a howl. Máni froze with fear, and looked back into the black of the night sky. There, atop a star-flecked hill, two yellow eyes stared at him from a black silhouette. The silhouette moved closer, and he could see a great black wolf moving towards him. The creature circled him once, and then leaned in, opening its mouth. He expected the jaws to close on his face, taking a bite, and ending his life.
Instead, a warm pink tongue licked away his tears.
The animal flicked back its head, and the skin rolled back to reveal a dark-haired woman clad in a dark blue tunic. The black wolf pelt hung over her shoulders like a cape.
“Your tears taste like loneliness,” she said in a voice that was far less frightening than Máni thought it would be. Máni met her eyes, which were filled with sympathy, not rage.
“I’m trying to get to my sister whose chariot is pulling the sun. But whenever I draw near, it becomes time to pull my own chariot of the moon, and I fear I’ll never see her again.”
“I can bring messages to her for you,” the wolf suggested.
Máni turned and looked at her, both eyebrows raised. His heart was pounding in fear of the wolf, and yet at the same time, he felt the sparks of hope igniting.
“You would do that for me?”
“My brother Sköll is the guardian of the sun. I’m the guardian of the moon. Which means if your chariot is pulling the moon… I should probably guard you too, shouldn’t I? And you can’t steer if you’re crying.” The wolf reached out and brushed his tears away. He looked at her with a smile.
“Thank you, she-wolf.”
“Call me Hati.”
☽
“So you mean to tell me that Hati and Sköll were guarding the sun and moon, and not chasing them?”
Ulfred nodded his head at me, and I tapped my chin.
“You don’t look like you believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you, dear heart. But it’s just so different from what I’ve known.”
“It is,” he said with a nod of agreement.
“But what was the point of changing it?” Ulfred put a finger over my lips.
“Just keep listening.”
☾
Máni’s sister was married to the wolf Sköll and he didn’t know what to do. Hati sat beside him, sipping from a flagon of wine. She offered some to him.
“I wouldn’t have told you if I thought it would make you this upset. She is happy.”
“But how is she happy, lying with…” Máni’s voice trailed off.
“Lying with a wolf? I don’t know.” Máni sighed and snatched back the flagon, taking another long drink. “Maybe she’s just quicker witted than you are and has come to realize that my brother isn’t all bad.” She shrugged her shoulders.
Máni tilted his head and looked at her, frowning.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re nothing like the stories. I just… it’s not what I imagined for her.”
“Do you think a world in which we are seen as lustful, blood thirsty killers is what we imagined for ourselves?” Hati replied and pulled herself up to stand. “Come on, your chariot awaits. Next thing you know, people will say I’m trying to catch you as my prey rather than guard you.”
“…I …I’m sure they’re already saying that.” Máni admitted. “But I’m sorry, you’re right, I should be happy for my sister. If your brother is as loyal a companion as you are, I know she is in good hands.”
Hati turned and stared at the keeper of the moon. She then smiled and playfully elbowed his side. “She is. I can promise you that.”
☽
“Oh, now the story is getting good,” I said as I sprawled out in Ulfred’s lap, resting my head against his shoulder, my feet propped up by a meager straw pillow.
“Is that what you think?” Ulfred said with a grumble. “It’s good because there is sex?”
“Well, it is also a good story because the sun goddess falling in love with a wolf is unique. People don’t usually see wolves in that way. Unless they’re me, of course.” I leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his lips. He returned it and patted my leg.
“You’re definitely the oddest human I’ve ever met.”
“But what about the end of days, or Ragnarök, as you call it? Don’t the wolves finally catch their prey and swallow them whole?” I watched Ulfred’s face turn dark.
“Yes. But it’s not what you think.”
“Oh, was it sexy devouring? To each their own, of course, but I’m not really sure that is for me.” I felt a sharp jab to my side, and I grumbled, reaching up to rub the sore spot. “I probably deserved that.”
“You did,” Ulfred confirmed. “So you want to know about Ragnarök?”
“I do.”
“As I said, it’s not what you would expect.”
☾
From the heavens, one could see that the world was on fire—and Máni knew it was only a matter of time before it reached them.
“We need to run,” Máni said as he stroked his horse’s silver mane. “It isn’t safe anymore. The whole world is going to be destroyed in this battle between the gods. I don’t want to stay and see what happens. We need to get to Sól and Sköll, even if it throws off the course of the universe.”
Hati shook her head.
“It’s not going to be that easy. Where could we run to?” She stared at Máni, her arms folded over her chest. “And if the Sun and the Moon are gone, there is no hope for anyone.”
Máni frowned and looked away.
“Then it is hopeless? We are just to sit here and watch the world end?”
Hati took Máni’s hands into her own and stared into his eyes.
“No. Sköll and I are your guardians, and we are going to hold fast to that, even if the world crashes down.” She brought his fingers to her lips and kissed them. “Have faith. I’ll keep you safe.” She reached for the hood of her fur pelt. “Trust me.”
“I do,” said Máni. “But–” Hati placed a finger on Máni’s lips, shaking her head.
“Goodbye, Máni.” The hood of the wolf pelt was pulled over Hati’s head, and she took the shape of the black wolf, staring straight at the man, her jaw opening wide and showing off her large teeth. Máni closed his eyes so he would not have to see the world go black. Still, he felt the warm and damp overtake him, his body wrapped tight as if he were encased in a cocoon.
In the belly of the beast, Máni had no concept of time. It could have been a few moments since Hati swallowed him, or it could have been a lifetime. It was all darkness, but Máni was not afraid. He remembered the nights of riding, the stars glistening in the sky, with Hati right beside him. Hati had told him to keep hope, and he kept to that.
“Máni!” The voice cut through the darkness like a hot filet knife through cooked herring. “Máni, please… are you alive?” Máni’s fingertips reached forward, meeting the resistance of flesh. But when he heard his name again, he pushed onwards. He pushed with all his might, and suddenly there was a loud tearing sound. He tumbled forward—blood and fur the first things he saw. Then, he laid eyes on Sól, looking like she had just climbed out of the womb, her hair slicked with blood and sweat. She was smiling at him.
“Sól! I wasn’t sure I would ever see you again.” Máni reached out and embraced his sister.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Sól began, balling up a fist to wipe some tears from her eyes, along with the blood. “The wolves… they…” She could not seem to find the words for her grief, so instead, she tightened her hug and buried her face in his chest. Máni raised a hand to stroke her sticky, wet hair.
“The world is reborn!” She pulled back from Máni, staring up at the dark. “We should ride again, bring these people light and hope.”
Máni nodded, but then looked down on the two torn wolf carcasses, lying side by side. He looked to Sól, and he watched more tears rolling down her face, streaking the blood with it.
“They gave their lives for us.” Máni stared at the carcasses, until Sól pulled him away.
“They did. So let’s make sure that their sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”
Máni knelt before the dark furred body and ran a hand across it. He then leaned down and kissed the brow of the dead beast.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I’ll think of you as I ride through the stars, and I’ll never give up hope.” Sól offered him a hand, and standing, Máni took it. The two walked off into the world, the bodies of the two wolves left behind.
The silhouette of amber eyes and pointed ears watched and waited.
☽
“Is that the end?” I asked. “Sköll and Hati have their bodies eaten by scavengers, while Máni and Sól resume their caretaking of the sun and the moon?”
“It’s not the end,” said Ulfred, sitting up and putting his arms around me, pulling me in close. “It’s the beginning.” He looked down to his pelt, hanging off the side of the bed. The fur was a mix of red, brown, and white, but in the center of the back, there was a patch that was all white. I reached out with some hesitation and touched it.
“Is this…”
“From Sköll? Yes. That's why I’m Ulfred Sköllson. My cousins are Hatison and Hatidottier. That is where wolves like me came from.”
“As opposed to… wolves not like you?”
“It’s a big world.”
I looked up at the moon through the small window and smirked.
“I like that story better. I think I’ll tell it that way from now on.”
Ulfred shrugged. “Everyone will think you’re strange, from the Christians to the Danes.”
“I am strange though. So it’s only fitting.” I reached out and cupped Ulfred’s stubbly cheek.
Ulfred put a hand on my shoulder, and then let his brow tilt against my own. “And I will always be glad for that.”
Ginny McSheehan (she/her) is a queer pagan storyteller with a lifelong love for history and folklore. During the summer and fall, she can be found at Nyr Jorvik Viking Village, where she teaches Viking history through inclusive historical reenactment, and tells the stories of the Norse gods and goddesses. She is an MFA candidate in Emerson’s Popular Fiction and Publishing program and is editing her second novel. Her contact info can be found at solo.to/ginnysquillpen.