Howls of Whiterun
Chapter 1
Bloodmoon


A/N: Hey, it's been awhile since I've actually written anything that will be long. I apologize for everything. This is going to be OC-centric. This has made a slight change. Howls of Whiterun will be a prequel to the main story. I need time to work on kinks and loopholes in the plot. Not that everything will move smoothly but I will definitely try. Also, let me know if I should other races other than man. I am tempted to add some Mer later on but my bias lays completely with Nords (and Orcs).

P.S. Thanks to my friend, Louise, for beta-reading this.

P.P.S. I know we learn some basics of lycanthropy throughout Skyrim and a little more of pack mentality with the Dragonborn DLC, but everything else I made up. Please feel free to correct anything you think is wrong. Do so in a polite manner. I do want to improve, but coming on too hard will break me.


The night was young. Owls and bats slowly rose from the deep slumber and began their hunt for food. Same with the packs of wolves. The twin moons, Masser and Secunda, slowly rose from their sleep along with the skilled hunters. Both of them shining red in the night. A sign of a good harvest or of bloodshed. The thick smoke and trees burning red meant bloodshed.

Loud growls and howls were plenty and heard all the way in the sleeping city of Whiterun, though many were not awake. If they were, they thought nothing of the howls or the fire.

The Silverhand worked that night. Rumors of werewolf sightings sent them to Whiterun. Their hatred for the supposed foul creatures was infamous around Tamriel. Their prey was in sight that night and they slew many wolves and werewolves. They paraded the pelts that night at the Bannered Mare.

A young Nord wolf-ling survived the slaughter. She huddled in a secluded brush awaiting a familiar scent. Her deer skin tunic was stained with the blood, none her own. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from the tears she shed over those she watched disposed of right in front of her. Her mother lay murdered before her very eyes as she hid herself. Her mother's pelt shorn from her body. She wanted to cuddle the furless carcass of her mother but she didn't dare leave the safety of her hiding spot.

They were wolves, clearly friendly. They were pack wolves that had no need to hunt humans. Deer, elk and bear were enough for them. The only humans they ever killed were Silverhand and the occasional bandit here and there. Most pack wolves felt no need to hunt humans who kept their distance. Even if they happened to venture close, they never attacked unless provoked. They acted as hunters and traveling merchants to humans if they did venture close.

The young wolf-ling managed to fall asleep in her hiding spot. While she slept an older male wolf carried her away from what they called home. When she awoke, she first smelled a familiar scent of cloves and juniper berries mixed in with the usual dog scent they naturally carried. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She then saw the familiar figure of her father, his back facing her. She hurriedly jumped off the mossy log and hugged the man from behind. "Papa." her tiny voice was hoarse from crying. "Papa." She cries into the back of his tunic and gripped tightly. "They took mama. They took her pelt." She sniffed. "They took home...I was so scared, papa"

"Hush, my love." He loosened his daughter's grip and turned around to face her. He embraced his wolf-ling tightly, as to never let her go. "You are alive. You are with me. We are safe for now, my love." He was gentle. This male was very gentle for a wolf. He stroked her dark auburn hair. "We will make graves for everyone we have lost, my love. We will mourn with the twins tonight." He knelt down and cupped his daughter's face and kissed her forehead. "You are too young to change, my love. But you shall join us." He looked closely into her bloodshot eyes. Her eyes were much like her mothers; a nice vibrant blue, such as the sky on a cloudless day. He continued to calm her.

"Master Fjolfr." A dark skinned Redguard female walked out of the thick brush, carrying several rabbits across her shoulder. "The commotion last night scared most of the wildlife away. I was only able to secure a few rabbits for us." She sighed as she placed the rabbits on a rock near a fire pit and then settle down herself onto a log nearby.

"A few rabbits will suffice for now. Come Sifkni, let us cook these meal Rithle has graciously caught for us." He picked up Sifkni with ease and held her close. Sif continued to sniffle as she held tightly onto her father, not wanting to lose him along with her mother. "Love, you are safe. Trust me." He pried her hands from around his neck and set her down on a mossy log. "I know you were scared. You lost your mother. We lost a lot, darling. But, Ilfhil, your mother would be glad that you are well and alive." He knelt down before her and wiped away her tears. He stood up, walked over to the fire pit and started a fire. With his back towards his daughter he spoke to her, "Remember Sif. We may be wolves, but we are not dangerous to humans. There will always be good and evil in the world, no matter the race. Alright, darling?"

Sifkni nodded her head and wiped her tears. "I miss mama."

Fjolfr's back quivered slightly, "As do I, child. As do I." He continued on with his task of skinning and gutting the rabbits before cooking them. After the rabbits were placed over the fire to cook, He walked over and sat next to her daughter. "After we get our strength back from this meal and bury our loved ones, we shall move further away from Whiterun. Closer to the Pale, secluded deeper in the woods."

Rithle, the dark skinned teen, shifted on the logged. "I think others survived the ordeal, Master." She looked at the older male. His green eyes slightly red. The side of his face burned from last night. She could tell he had done his best to clean the wound, but a scar would definitely leave its place. "I did smell that Imperial whelp, Lucret, while hunting. I'm sure he will show up."

Fjolfr looked at the ground. "Yes. I'm sure others have survived. We can always recruit loners. I'm sure there are other wolves willing to join a pack." He ran his hand through his graying brown hair.

"Letting strays into the pack, may not be wise, Master. I know we are few in number, but we can still survive." Rithle stood up and checked on the roasting rabbits. "Letting them in when your daughter's first moon is upon us. It is not wise." She looked over at the small wolf-ling and smiled softly.

Sifkni shifted in her seat. She was fully aware of her first moon was approaching. She had a year or so before she would be able to run and howl with the pack. She was excited and scared at the same time. She knew very well that some wolf-lings lost themselves in the change. She feared she would harm her father. She looked at Rithle and then to her father. "Papa. It would be more fun with wolves around."

Fjolfr nodded and ruffled her hair. "I believe so as well. But, as Rithle said your first moon is approaching. We need to be wise about who we let in. We can make that compromise, yes Rithle?" He looked at her with his green eyes.

Rithle looked down. She knew well who was the alpha of the pack. She knew he wasn't asking a question. He was questioning her position. "I apologize. I worry for Sifkni. Having rogue wolves around her first moon so near. I fear what they may try." She looked up at her master. His gray eyes piercing through her very soul.

"Very well. I will think about your worries. For now, we should find Lucret and a few others who've survived." Fjolfr checked on the cooking rabbits.

The three wolves sat in silence. The air heavy with the previous conversation. Rithle and Fjolfr ate the rabbit. The young wolf-ling refused to touch the rabbit. The burnt flesh reminded her too much of the previous night and she felt uneasy. Fjolfr noticed but said nothing. She was young, but she would eat in time and though she needed the nourishment, he wasn't going to force something so cruel upon her.

After the older wolves finished the rabbits, they made a makeshift shelter out of fallen wood and pine branches. Fjolfr laid out a deer pelt atop some dried grass. "Sifkni. You should rest here while Rithle and I find others and gather bodies."

Sifkni looked at her father and nodded hesitantly. "I want to come with Papa." She walked up and grasped his hand firmly.

Fjolfr knelt down and pet his daughter's head. "I know you would. But I need a capable young wolf to stay and watch this camp. Do not worry, my love. We will be back in a few minutes to check on you." One final pat on her auburn locks and Fjolfr took off into the woods, shifting into a black werewolf before disappearing amongst the brush. Rithle followed suit in her brown werewolf form.