Skyrim had never been a particularly kind place to Wood Elves.
Hannah had seen worse; yes, that was true. But she'd also seen much better. Skyrim? It certanly wasn't one of her more enjoyable experiences thus far. She wasn't sure how three near-death incidents could ever be considered "enjoyable", and not to mention that they had all occurred on her first day in the blasted region, just as soon as she crossed the border. She'd almost been executed, incinerated by a dragon, and chased by packs of both wolves and bandits before reaching Riverwood.
And now? She was stuck in a cave that was almost crawling with Draugr and Silverhand, and she had just drained her last health potion.
Oh, Skyrim. It never failed to excite her. Or at least put her life in somewhat-certain doom.
Hannah took a deep breath. In…out, she told herself. Being an avid user of (and mildly obsessed with) healing potions, the discovery of rummaging through various phials and finding none was devastating. Sure, she knew healing spells, and sure, she was good at them, but nothing could ever replace the feeling of the sweet liquid rushing down her throat and filling her with extra spirit and endurance. All a healing spell could ever be was a pretty light. Big whoop.
Lydia shuffled her feet impatiently. "Well?" she asked. "Are we going to get out of this cave or what?"
"I'd hope so."
"You know, you don't have to use healing potions all the time. It's perfectly fine to use a healing spell every once in a while."
"I guess," she answered gruffly. "Fine. Let's get this place cleared and then get out." She hoisted herself up from her seat on the cold, stone floor. She wasn't sure how far away the exit was now, but she hoped that it would be a short amount of time before they could return to the surface world. Seeing the Silverhand always left her in a bad mood, and the only cure for it would be to kill each and every one of them that she could find here.
Oh, stop trying to act so tough, because you know that you aren't. Shaking her head at her own idiocy, Hannah drew her bow, smiling in amusement as Lydia did the same. "Copycat," she teased. The housecarl playfully stuck out her tongue.
"Trendsetter."
The elf grinned and gave her a good poke with her bow. "Let's go."
Screams. They were echoing from every corner the plaza, some of terror, some of pain. The smoke from the fire stung her eyes, and she closed them tightly, wincing.
A Stormcloak – Ralof, wasn't it? – tugged at the sleeve of her ragged tunic, yelling for her to get up and run; but she was frozen in place. Her eyes wandered to the scaly neck of the dragon, then to its head, and finally to its eyes. Its glowing, amber eyes. They almost seemed to communicate with her, which she knew was next to impossible. Still, she looked deeper into them, trying to decipher the message he was relaying.
Then the dragon opened its mouth and a torrent of flames spewed forth from its throat
Hannah awoke immediately to discover the sheen of sweat settled on her forehead. Nightmares again, and, as usual, they were about the dragon attack on Helgen. She sighed heavily and hoisted herself out of the bed.
Her feet made quiet shuffling noises as she walked across the hall and rapped on her housecarl's door. A sleepy Lydia answered, her mouth spewing out nearly incoherent words. "Mmn, what do you want?"
"I'm going to take a walk."
"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. I won't let anyone into the house, do you have your shoes, yadda yadda, but let me sleep." Before her thane could speak again, she slammed the door.
Hannah marched to her bedroom, dug through the chest to gather clothes, and when she was done, left Breezehome. Nightmares were nothing new to her, and neither were the walks that she found necessary afterwards. The only downside was that she ruined many comfortable outfits. Oh well. She supposed that the extras were there for a reason.
The night was cold – predictably – and her breath came in small clouds from her chapped lips. She took in a few gulps of fresh air before continuing on. If she didn't hurry, the details of her nightmare were going to come back to her in a flood of unpleasant memories; the shining scales, the sinister eyes, the mouth, oh Divines the mouth as it breathed the flames and scorched her skin and hair and she could see her husband on the floor and
Shut up. She gave herself a punishing kick and walked away, her mouth set in a scowl. Shut up and don't think anymore. She passed the gate of Whiterun and took to the dirt road. If she thought it was cool weather behind the looming stone walls, then the open air out here was frigid. Goose bumps began to dot her arms and neck. Damn this weather, she thought bitterly, Damn me, because I should have brought a coat.
The midnight walks were not an unusual occurrence for her, and the same applied to the huntress that often stalked the plains at this particular hour. Thus she wasn't daunted when Hannah veered off the road, hung both sets of clothes on a nearby tree, and screamed.
It wasn't a scream, really; it was more of a…howl. In fact, that's exactly what it was. Hannah's slender, agile body was unrecognizable now, covered in dark fur and rippling muscles. Not even her face was spared, because she certainly didn't have long fangs and a snout in her human form. Turning was the only way she could deal with the nightmares, and luckily, beauty wasn't one of her top priorities at the moment.
The huntress could tell you the details in a drunken sleep – she'd mistake her nightgown for a sheep and eat it, run off into the wild, slaughter exactly four deer, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. The most entertaining part was when the werewolf suddenly stopped, gave another howl, and transformed back into Regular Old Hannah – who would swear loudly and begin the search for her extra set of clothes, of course. Ah, yes, these nights were usually the highlight of late hunting trips.
Yet something was terribly wrong. Hannah herself had said that using her Beast Form was always unpleasant for her, and that she avoided it when she could. The elf wasn't one to lie, that was painfully evident ("Oh, Aela, you of all people should know that I'm not bothered by your terribly strong doggy smell."), so why was she doing so now?
Something wasn't right here, and Aela was going to find out exactly what it was…but first, she was going to watch her acquaintance trudge through the small creek and say a few words-of-choice. That was always the funniest part.