She pulled away from him and looked down, refusing to meet his gaze. “One of the skalds said that the wytchen lord uses his power to turn enemies and those who displease him into darkhounds,” she whispered. “Do you think—“

“Hogwash,” Brynjar snorted. “Stories told to frighten children.”

“It frightened me,” she whispered.

“A darkhound isn’t anything more than a sorcery-touched Dorejn hound, or something much like it,” Brynjar said, “but you know Krejk, how intelligent that mutt is. That should be plenty frightening enough without any more nonsense piled on.”

She paused for a moment, and then nodded. “It is.”