-Under a Summer Sky-

I look up at the summer sky
and can hear your voice.
Even through the soft breeze
and shadows cast by the flowing clouds.

-Natsukage-

Chapter 1: Wind

The sun was low in the sky, casting Whiterun in its early dawn glow. The morning bells had resonated from Dragonreach's tower and the citizens of Whiterun would be stirring from their sleep and within the next few hours or so the shops and stalls would open and it would be another ordinary day. But not yet. At the moment everything was still and silent, that was probably why this was Vilkas' favourite time of the day. When you lived a warriors life, peace and quiet was a rare and beautiful thing. The dark haired man usually took these early hours to patrol the outskirts of the city, searching for travellers in need of help, or bandits hiding out nearby. Granted, there was usually nothing to be done, but it gave Vilkas time to relax before heading out on a proper job.

He passed through the city gates he greeted the tired night's watchmen and made his way through the plains district, no matter how many times he made this trip it was always strange not to hear the clang of metal at the forge, someone chopping wood or the usual market chatter. He climbed up the flight of stone steps to the wind district where the Gildergreen stood. The branches were black and charred and the tree was, at the moment, a total eye-sore. Danica had asked the Companions for help, but without money, no one was willing to assist her. They may have been honourable warriors, but there was no way they would risk their lives for free.

Vilkas closed his eyes and stood under the branches of the tree for a few moments. A gentle breeze was blowing and the air was always so fresh here, if he closed his eyes he could imagine being far from Whiterun and its walls and noise. He could imagine hunting, the smells of the forest and nature and the thrill of the chase.

No, he wasn't supposed to think about that. Vilkas snapped back to reality, turned and headed to Jorrvaskr. Damn it, He had to stop allowing his mind to wander so freely, he was trying to give up the blood and thoughts of hunting weren't going to make that any easier. He walked around to the back of the hall, his brother and Aela would be awake by now, maybe sitting on the porch, talking over breakfast, usually a loaf of fresh bread, before heading out on a quest of some sort. But when Vilkas rounded the corner he didn't see Farkas or Aela.

A young woman was walking along the high stone wall that surrounded Whiterun, eyes turned up to the sky, arms reaching out as long ice-white hair fluttering behind her in the light breeze. She took a deep breath of summer air and sighed. Vilkas frowned, why was she here so early, and what in Oblivion was she doing?

"Hey, what do you think you're playing at?" He shouted. It was too early for him to feign patience with this stranger. She turned sharply and, in her surprise, tripped over her own feet and toppled of the wall, hitting the ground with a cry. Vilkas rolled his eyes at her clumsiness before pulling her roughly to her feet. She was small, for a Nord, and her attire was unusual too. A light, white, tundra cotton dress hung loosely from her slender frame and, apart from that, she wore nothing else, leaving her arms, legs and feet exposed. Even in summer, as it was now, Skyrim wasn't that warm, it was a strange choice of attire to say the least. She looked nervously up at Vilkas with her large blue eyes, like a child expecting to be scolded.

"What were you doing on that wall?" Vilkas asked gruffly.

"I was, umm... I was just looking at the... ehh..." she trailed off, looking away from Vilkas' harsh glare. The werewolf rolled his eyes; he didn't have time for this. He was hungry and besides, what she was climbing walls for didn't really matter. Hopefully she'd learned her lesson from the fall.

"Never mind, what do you want at Jorrvaskr?" He asked, letting go of her arm. The young woman looked around her.

"This is Jorrvaskr?!" She said, sounding surprised. Vilkas stared at her disbelievingly,

"Are you joking?" She shuck her head, "You're not from around here, are you?" She shook her head again, "Well, yes, this is Jorrvaskr, home of the Companions. Now what do you want?" Her already large eyes widened.

"A-are you a Companion?"

"Aye."

"Oh, wonderful!" She exclaimed, all shyness gone from her voice "I need you to help me."

"Well, I'm not the one you want to talk to," Vilkas said, turning away "come back later and ask for Aela or Farkas, they handle the jobs." He started to head to the porch,

"W-wait!" Vilkas turned,

"What?!"

"When should I come back?"

"I don't know, after the mid-morning bells." Vilkas turned and started up the steps,

"Wait!" Vilkas rolled his eyes.

"Now what?!"

"What's your name?"

"Vilkas." A moment of awkward silence passed,

"Aren't you going to ask my name?" she asked. Vilkas sighed.

"No!" He said firmly

"Why?"

"Because I don't care!" Vilkas threw open the door to Jorrvaskr and slammed it violently after him. He looked around the mead hall. Farkas was sitting at one of the tables on his own, watching Aela chat animatedly with Skjor. It was no surprise that the members of the Circle were all awake. The beast-blood kept them restless at night and they found themselves tired in the morning, but unable to sleep. It was one of the many things Vilkas hated about this damn curse they'd been inflicted with. He headed to the smaller table in the corner where his twin sat,

"What are they talking about?" Farkas said, still watching Aela and Skjor.

"Good morning to you, too." Vilkas grumbled, helping himself to a slice of bread.

"But, really, they're always talking on their own, I don't get it. What's so secret that they won't tell us?" Vilkas smiled at his brothers naivety, it was no secret in Jorrvaskr that Aela and Skjor were together, the glances they gave each other over dinner, the private conversations in hushed voices, their frequent "hunting" trips together. The only one who hadn't caught on was poor Farkas.

"Forget about them," Vilkas said, "How did your job go yesterday? Something about a giant?"

"Oh yeah, a giant wandered down from Bleakwind Basin and wreaked havoc at one of the farms." Farkas replied, eyes lighting up at the chance to talk about his adventure from the previous day.

"You don't often hear of giants leaving their camps." The younger of the brothers said, spreading some home-made snowberry jam on his slice of bread,

"That's true. But that's not the only weird thing, when we were fighting him a stranger stopped to help, just charged right in with a greatsword and cut the giant to pieces. Didn't say his name or anything. I asked if he wanted to join the Companions but I haven't seen him since. What did you do yesterday, weren't you training with Ria?"

"Aye, the girl's hopeless though," Vilkas replied with a smirk "She can barely swing a sword despite all the time I spend teaching her."

Farkas nodded, he knew his brother was right.

Ria did mean well, but almost everyone was reluctant to have her as a Shield-Sister after she knocked Skjor into a trap the last time they went on a job together. She'd trudged back to the mead hall supporting Skjor after accidentally knocking him into a pit filled with draugr. The old warrior had broken his leg in the fall, but, by the grace of the Gods, managed to fight off the hordes of undead and find his way out. The pair made the long journey home where, thankfully, Skjor made a full recovery. Since that little escapade, few of the Companions were willing to risk falling victim to Ria's clumsiness.

"I'd better go," Farkas said "We've got a lot of jobs to get through."

The older of the brothers stood and wandered to where some of the whelps had gathered. Vilkas watched his shield-brothers and sisters for a while as Farkas and Aela offered jobs to the others. They knew everyone's strengths and weaknesses, and who would be best for each job. Something that Vilkas really wasn't bothered to learn. The young werewolf tried not to get too attached to the whelps, maybe that way if one of them turned up dead in a ditch it wouldn't hurt so much. He'd had so many friends only to hear of them dying alone on the side of the road, it was for the best. It was easier not to care.

He rose from his place and slipped away to the sleeping quarters beneath the mead hall, he didn't have to head out right now; there was still time to relax for a while. He picked up a book on his bedside table, it was one he'd borrowed from Kodlak a couple of days ago and hadn't gotten around to reading yet, he inspected the brown, leather-bound tome, feeling the heavy weight of it and flicking through the yellowing, hand-written pages. "The gift of Hircine" was written in gold font on the cover. Maybe it held the cure to this damn curse that had plagued the Companions for so long.

He'd first received the so called "gift" of lycanthropy almost ten years ago now when he and his brother had been accepted into the circle. At first it was incredible to run with wolves and hunt as they do. When Vilkas was angry or frustrated nothing calmed him more than the hunt. The sense of freedom and power was intoxicating. But that just made it so much harder to give up. It was months before he learned that such power had come with a terrible price. He had been flicking through a book on the daedric Gods - another loan from Kodlak - when he came across the chapter on Hircine. Vilkas' had never been a particularly religious man, and talk of souls and the afterlife more often than not got little more than an eye-roll out of him. But this time... The book spoke of the damnation of lycanthropes. Of eternal hunting, turned to the form of a wolf until the end of time. As much as he loved the hunt, eternity was too long. If there was life after death, he couldn't risk spending it in Hircines blood-soaked world.

Vilkas turned a page of "The gift of Hircine", but the words on the page didn't register in his mind. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair

"Focus, man. Focus!" He mumbled to himself. This book could hold a cure. A blessing to dispel the dark curse that clung to both himself and his family... No, he couldn't. He couldn't concentrate right now. All he could think about was the smell of the forest. The taste of iron and salt. Blood. Dripping from his jaws mixed with saliva. The drum of his heart against his ribs. Hot fur. Cold air. Running, biting, fighting, killing. The hunt filled his mind and senses. The hunt! The hunt! The hunt!

With all the force he could muster, Vilkas through the book across the room and cried out in frustration as he almost lost control. Almost transformed beneath Jorrvaskr. Almost transformed in Whiterun around hundreds of innocent people. They could have died if he hadn't been able to pull himself back in time. He buried his face in his hands, trying to steady his breathing and the frantic beating of his heart. He had to talk to Kodlak. This was growing unbearable. But Kodlak would understand. He'd know what to do. He left his room and knocked loudly on the door to the Harbingers quarters before opening the heavy wooden door. The harbinger was sitting at his desk, scribbling in a small, brown book. On Vilkas' entry he shut it and slipped it into one of the open desk drawers.

"Ahh, Vilkas. It's good to see you lad," the old man said cheerfully "what can I help you with?"

"I need to talk to you... I just... I nearly lost control."

"Oh," Kodlak said, worry evident in his voice "Take a seat, lad, I'll get you a drink."

He gestured to the chair opposite him which Vilkas gladly collapsed into. The young werewolf rubbed his temples as the Harbinger poured him a glass of whiskey.

"Tell me," Kodlak said kindly "what happened to bring it on?"

"I don't know," Vilkas said, drinking the strong alcohol, hoping it would calm him somewhat "I was looking through a book and it just came over me, like a wave..."

"Yes, go on..."

"I get... I just get angry. Farkas says he understands but he doesn't, it's easier for him. Aela and Skjor don't care. I don't get it, all I want is to give it up, but I still hear the call of the blood..."

"A stranger comes to our hall," the old man said, pulling Vilkas out of his rant.

He looked up, a young woman with sky blue eyes stood in front of him, she had put on some old fur armour, shoes and gloves, her snowy hair tumbled over her shoulders, it was the girl from this morning. She bit her lip nervously and looked away while the two men focused on her.

"M-my name is Azure. I'd like to join the Companions."