I do not own Creatures, however, as far as I'm aware, Norns, Grendels and Ettins are in the public domain.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs License. To view a copy of this license, visit or send a letter to Creative Commons, 559 Nathan Abbott Way, Stanford, California 94305, USA.

That means that you're free to redistribute and display this work, under the following conditions:

You must attribute it to me (say who wrote it)

You may not use it for commercial purposes

You may not alter, transform or build upon it

You must include a copy of this license, or make clear to others the terms of this license in some way.

Note to nit-picking fans: I have scaled up pretty much everything. Norns, I know, were meant to be a few inches high. I have portrayed them here as being maybe four or five feet tall. Norns, I know, live only five or six hours. I have scaled that up to a human lifespan, with the assumption being that they would use similar divisions of time within their society. Also, I know norns do not form permanent couples. I have employed something known as "Artistic licence". (Or 'license', depending on which country you're from.)

WARNING: This fanfic may contain adult content, so please don't read it unless you have a mental age of at least 15!

PART 1: Apocalypse

Chapter One: Home

Martha set down her cup. "I still don't see why you need to take them. They're only seven years old!" Her hackles stood up. She did not want her children taken from her, no matter how competent a caretaker they had. Zimkash opened his mouth to say something, but Martha cut him off. "And anyway, Amelia's sick. So if you manage to convince me to let them go, you won't be able to leave for at least four days."

Zimkash shook his head, his long golden fur rustling faintly. "I'm sorry. I don't want to take them either. I'd trust you far more than myself with them. But Daelam said they had to be there. I'm pretty sure both Amelia and Sheiro are both dying to go, too."

"I don't care what they think. It's a dangerous journey."

"It'll be fine! We'll be travelling with the caravan. Plus, there hasn't been a Grendel sighting in years!"

"I know, I know. I know I'm probably just being overprotective, but still..."

"How about we adjourn 'till tomorrow." He winked at Martha, and stood up. He curved his back, which cracked satisfyingly, and walked towards Martha. His hand wandered to her hair, and down the side of her face. Her short, lilac fur was interspersed with the occasional white speckle. Zimkash stroked her nose, and she closed her eyes and tilted her head upwards. He scratched her ear, and knelt down beside her. "Come on," he said in a low voice. He caught her mouth in his, and his arms pulled her body closer to his. He broke the kiss and stood up, her with him.

Zimkash's gaze bounced idly around the room. There were the cushions they had been sitting on, red silk, edged with gold tassels. Surrounded by these was an oaken table, deep brown, varnished, with ornate legs. There were sheets of paper and old books scattered across it, candles half-used and flickering in wooden holders, carved in a double helix, covered in wax. A jar of ink was open, and a quill lying next to it, a page half-written in scrawly symbols. Martha stared at the slowly dying fire, casting an unsteady orange glow over the room.

Zimkash pulled Martha closer, and kissed her forehead. She was a head shorter than he. He pulled her into a fierce hug, and she returned it, head resting on his chest. They withdrew, the fire reflected in Zimkash's huge brown eyes. He opened his mouth, and Martha put a finger on his lips. She touched her mouth to his, and closed her eyes. She wouldn't lose him, or her children. She knew it in her heart.