Fenris has been confused ever since he accidentally fell to Midgard, a painful and degrading stripping of his powers that left him only a fraction of what he used to be. Still larger than any mortal wolf, still with the ability to make others somewhat like him if he bit them and his power subsumed their petty mortal blood, but without the power to then enthral them to his will like he should be able to do.

He just wants a way home.

But he has been here for weeks, trapped and ever more hungry, ever more desperate. There are more mortals than he ever thought possible, and their world is covered in metal and concrete, lacking the magic that would take him back over the branches of Yggdrasil and to where he should be.

And now he's being cornered by some scrawny little thing, treating him as though he were a genuine stray. He is Fenris! Son of Loki! Demi-god! He howls in fury, and then bites without thinking, a furious snarling attack that leaves him with the taste of hot blood in his mouth.

...well... that may have been a mistake.