victory falls: xv.

Fire-breathing, murder lust
brought thusly, scaly and raw,
he burst forth from incubation.
All yellow fire and white-hot
claws of iron: he singed the
wing-clipped ankles of the gods;
no foe could stay his might.

But borne upon the sword, Vengeance
mounts the sunrise - gleaming wolf
with slathered jaws of howling rage
and lustrous eyes. Son of heroes
and living cloaked in the skins
of his ancestors. And 'Dragon-Slayer'
they called him, his weapon drawn
from the oaken bowels of Odin's own
majesty, and his glory crowned upon
the furrows of his brow.

Fostered, lost, orphan-boy,
with legend painted on his lips
and sealed beneath his fingernails.