No matter how many seemingly endless wonders the city presented, Fenrir didn’t believe he would ever grow entirely fond of it. Its grand buildings and flashing screens of light were indeed things to behold, but he hated its constantly noisy atmosphere and the persistent congestion of its labyrinthine streets. The air was always filled with the mixed stenches of gas and exhaust and rotting food. The loud, keening wails of the strange metallic beasts the mortals rode inside jarred against his ears.
He was amazed by the sheer number of humans who lived about this place, scurrying to and fro akin to insects in a colony. They swarmed upon the concrete side-paths, sliding and bumping against each other from the present lack of space. It set the wolf completely on edge. He wasn’t used to being so surrounded, to have so many beings encircling him, touching him, invading his own space. How these Midgardians were able to endure this without destroying their sanity he would never know.
Fenrir spent most of his time either prowling near the outskirts or resting in the parks. The latter was an activity he found himself practicing more and more often. When there weren’t many people around, he rather enjoyed staying in the park. It was more quiet, the air was fresher and usually void of the constant stinks of the city which plagued his nose. It was evening by this time, the sun slowly traveling to the west, and the wolf god silently walked through the entrance of Central Park, briefly scanning the area with instinctive caution before picking up his pace a little. What he didn’t expect to see was a familiar figure standing near one of the fountains.
"Hela," he breathed, a bright smile splitting across his face. He walked closer to her, saying, "I did not expect you to be here." He previously thought she would simply reside in her room in Stark Tower until the next morning dawned.