A Huntress and her Prey

Distant Screams. Muffled roars and the coppery taste of her own blood. Face first in the loamy earth; she feels a peace she has never known. Shaking her head. Make the ringing stop. A callused hand grips her shoulder and she hears her name, darkened with desperation. She is snapped from her reverie and pulled to her feet. The ringing subsides and she is left peering into her Shield-Brother's frantic eyes. A bow is pressed into her open palm. Hearing returns and the sounds of battle are deafening.

'AELA! BETWEEN THE EYES, WE CAN'T KEEP THIS UP!'

Her gaze wanders to Farkas who extracts his hand from her shoulder and charges towards the incensed giant, with his greatsword grasped tightly he slashes the creature's tendons, bringing it to it's knees before he is swatted away with an anguished roar from the beast. Aela scolds herself for her moment of weakness and assesses the battlefield with a trained eye. Ria cowering at a distance. Vilkas sprawled mere yards away. She suppresses a scowl as she delicately pulls an arrow from its quiver. The giant is limping steadily towards her, club furrowing deep into the frozen ground. The bowstring is pulled taut, the arrow's fletched feathers caress her cheek. She slows her breathing almost imperceptibly. Release. There is a small thud followed by an animalistic whimper and Aela opens her eyes to find the giant slumped against the dilapidated farmhouse wall. She approaches the unmoving former foe and wrenches her arrow from his forehead, wiping the warm, black blood off onto the soil where she herself had bled mere moments ago. She is coiled, tense, senses heightened, eyes searching restlessly. Only when she is satisfied that the threat has been disposed of does she approach a still Farkas and proceed to check his pulse. Faint. Present. Her sweeping gaze reaches Vilkas, struggling to stand. She makes no move to aid him, only gives a brief nod of acknowledgement and rises to her feet.

'You!'-she barks, the word dripping with disdain. 'Vilkas needs your meagre assistance, ensure he returns safely to Jorrvaskr, lest I ensure you never will.'

A trembling Ria helps Vilkas to his feet, avoiding the Huntress' cold gaze.

'Let's get you home, Vilkas' she murmurs to the semi-conscious man, encircling her slender arm around his waist and guiding him along the path to Whiterun.

Aela returns her attentions to Farkas, crouching next to his still form and surveying the extent of his injuries when she hears a slow, exaggerated clap coming from behind. Within seconds her bow is drawn, humming with unsung energy as she turns to face the source of the disturbance.

'Deadly as a winter's eve and twice as ball-droppingly cold' the stranger says as the clapping subsides. Her voice is full, rich, warm and trickles down Aela's back in icy shivers.

'Who are you.' The question is stated, not asked.

'Why I'm the giant's sister, here to claim my inheritance'

Aela snarls as she takes stock of the woman before her. Her eyes, like giant's blood. Hair of flax pulled into a serviceable ponytail. There was a beauty, an apparent softness about the woman before her -yet Aela's wolf smelled more-she cocks her bow and repeats the question.

'Clearly I'm Helga Giantsister, I know I left the will around he-'

Words cut off. Pressed against the damp wall.

'Why play games?'

'Life's a game.'

Tell me you are and maybe you won't lose both.'

'Fjol, if you insist, though my friends call me Dovahkiin.'

Breath returns to the Dragonborn.

'Words mean nothing 'Dovahkiin'. Deeds are of worth and I have seen nothing to prove you are who you say.'

'Well in that case, whose deed needs doing because that man who left looks to be in need of a long, hard deed.' Her voice; filled with mirth and unkept promises. Eyes like chipped ice pierce the brown abyss.

'You had your opportunity' she says, gesturing towards the dead giant. 'Go'.

'Get to know me. I'm not so bad, I promise.' Pale hand resting on the hilt of one of her two finely-honed swords. Warm breath mingling with the crisp, winter air.

'We don't suffer cowards in Jorrvaskr' Her tone is clipped as she slings a senseless Farkas effortlessly over one shoulder.

'We'll meet again...?' Brown eyes dancing decadently.

'Aela.'