Sorry for the short chapters, guys. I'm going to try to work on writing longer ones. I'm still working out the longer story plot.
I own nothing. Gosh, I wish I did though.
The farmer who had originally asked Fae to look into the fortress, a man named Drell, lived only a few hours walk away. It was nearing dark as they stepped outside, however, and the rocky terrain would be dangerous in the gloom. Whiterun was several days to the southwest of them, and Fae worried about getting there safely. Vilkas had to stop fairly often, worn from so many days of pain, hunger and thirst. Fae decided it would be smart to camp before it became too dark, and pointed out a spot protected by a stone overhang with a straight, high back wall, near a shallow stream. Vilkas argued with her that they should keep moving, but Fae won in the end. She practically ordered him to stay and rest while she went to hunt and find firewood. The dark haired man seemed less than happy with her.
"Don't be dead when I get back!" she called out as she left. His only reply was a sullen glare.
She returned with a bundle of firewood and a few fish she had caught from down stream. As she set up the campfire at the edge of their shelter, she saw him sitting with his back against the flat portion of the wall, his eyes closed. He had pulled the fur cloak around to his front and it draped over him like a cloak. She smiled a little, and sat down, taking a piece of flint and steel from her pack. A few tries later, the sparks from her steel finally caught the wood and tinder. Pleased, she rifled through her bags for the cooking supplies she kept on her.
"I filled the skins," Vilkas said without opening his eyes.
"Thanks," she smiled at him, then stopped. He had cleaned the blood, dirt and old warpaint from his face, and his hair was wet. He wasn't half bad looking, she realized. Far from it, in fact, with a strong, stubborn jaw and sharp features shaded by short, dark facial hair. Along with his fierce, intense gaze, and Fae wondered how he didn't have women falling at his feet. They probably did, she thought with a bitter frown, turning back to the fire. Either that, or he scared them off.
She stole another glance at him. He probably scared women off, she decided.
Fae found some dried vegetables and herbs in her bag, along with her travelling cook pot. "We'll take care of your shoulder while dinner cooks," she called to Vilkas. He didn't answer her. Humming softly, she prepared the fish and veggies for a stew and set it over the fire. Night had set in fully, throwing shadows around at the edge of their flame light. Fae stood and stretched her back, then went to Vilkas, grabbing her bag and a waterskin on her way. She sat down beside him, pulled out the ointment and her makeshift bandages. "Let me see your shoulder."
Vilkas peeked one eye open to eye her for a moment. He sat up, letting the cloak fall around his waist and pulled of the shirt, grimacing when his shoulder pulled. He had also cleaned the blood and grime away from his chest, and Fae couldn't help but notice that that, too, wasn't half bad. Broad and strong even after days of torture, all hard muscles and lightly dusted with dark hair and scars. The bandages Fae had hastily pressed against the wound on his shoulder were still there, dried blood pasting them to his skin.
"Hold on a moment," she said. She stood and took the waterskin over to the fire, warming it for several minutes. She came back to his side, and carefully poured the heated water on the stuck bandages. Slowly, she pried the cloth away, tearing the wound open a little. Vilkas growled. When the bandages were removed, she poured more water over the wound, then gently patted it dry with a little of the clean bandages.
"I don't know any restoration magic," she said apologetically, opening the ointment jar. It smelled foul, but it would help.
Vilkas just murmured "hmm" as she spread some of the medicine on his shoulder. She tried to be as gentle as possible, but she could feel the tension in the man's body, and saw the way he gritted his teeth. He was glaring off into the darkness around them. She felt bad about hurting him, but it needed to be done. Folding one of the strips of clean cloth into a small pad, she pressed it gently against his shoulder, then used the other strips to tie it in place firmly. That done, she dipped her finger in the ointment again and smeared it over the fresh burn on his stomach. He jumped, startled, and frowned at her. She muttered a quick apology and packed up the medicine, movig to the fire.
His surliness, while it made her uncomfortable, didn't upset her too much. She had known enough prideful, stubborn men in her time to know that his attitude probably came from wounded pride, not real malice. he struck her as the kind of man that did not like having to rely on other people, let alone someone he didn't know. Still, she wished he would glare at her less. Though she had to admit that his brooding glare was intense and somehow appealing. She pushed the thought away and looked through her cooking supplies for two bowls and spoons. The food was done cooking, so she dished it out and brought one of the bowls to Vilkas. She sat down beside him and they both ate in silence.
"So," Fae said after a while, "what do you do in Whiterun and why were you...here?"
Vilkas glanced at her, swallowing a bite of the stew. "That place was a hide out for the Silver Hand," he spat the name out like it was poison. "Werewolf hunters. They wanted me to tell them how to get to my fellow members of the Companions."
Fae shot him a quick look. She was not a native of Skyrim, but even she had heard about the guild of warriors called the Companions. They were honorable fighters who helped the people of the holds, for glory and for gold.
"But...you didn't," she said slowly.
"No," he growled.
She took another few bites of her food. "Are all the Companions werewolves?"
Vilkas sighed and rubbed one hand over his face. "No, only some of us."
Fae nodded slowly. He was actually speaking to her, and that was an improvement. She didn't want to push him too hard. "There's a farm not too far from here. I think it'd be best if we stayed there for a few days before going on to Whiterun," she said softly after several minutes. She wanted to stay at the farm so he could rest, but she had a feeling that if she told him that, he would refuse, just to be confrontational.
Vilkas frowned, but he didn't argue with her. They finished eating in silence and Fae rinsed their bowls in the stream.
"I'll keep watch, so go ahead and get some sleep," she said. For a moment, Vilkas looked like he was going to argue, but he just nodded and settled back against the wall. Fae moved over to the fire. She wondered what would happen after they got back to Whiterun. Would she just leave him and go back to her normal life? He would be with his companions, and he wouldn't need her help anymore. He didn't seem to want her help anyway, so she didn't think he'd be upset if she left. That was kind of a sad thought. She sighed and ran a hand over her eyes.
She would just have to deal with later when later came. It wasn't worth getting upset over. If she'd learned anything in her life, it was that nothing lasted. She glanced back at Vilkas' still form. At least she could enjoy the view in the meantime.