Hey party people, how's it hanging? I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy reading it! We get a little bit of wolfy action here (No, sorry... not a sex scene). Plan to see a lot more wolf next chapter. Anyways, don't forget to review. I love and feedback I can get.
I own Skyrim.
Nah, just kidding. I still don't.
"Damnit." She tried once more, this time gripping the bandage more firmly and pulling it tighter for a better chance of it actually staying. It didn't, and once again she untangled the mess and began rewrapping. She'd been at this for at least 20 minutes now with no success. Maybe if she had any sort of medical training this would be easier. Finally, on what must have been the 15th time, she was able to cover the wound on her bicep with the gauze. It was messy, and blood was quickly being absorbed into the cloth until it was a scarlet color. Maybe she'd actually go see a healer for once when she got back to civilization.
She looked up to the sun, using it as a hourglass. It was dangerously low, meaning she'd have to build some kind of makeshift camp fast if had any plan of making it through the night. Being unprepared was one of the main causes of death in Skyrim. She pulled a tattered bed roll out of the leather pack she often carried with her. When it wasn't on her person, it was at her home in Whiterun. But quite frankly, she didn't have the time to travel back there every night just for the sake of a warm bed. She had gotten far too in over her head by agreeing to take on every person's burdens. Why she thought she had time to locate every lost family heirloom and clean out each cave of undesirables was lost on her. So it was the cold hard ground to sleep on for now.
After laying out the bedroll, she pulled out her wood cutter's axe and got to work building a fire. As tedious as it was, she didn't mind chopping wood. Sometimes it was nice to just do something simple that didn't require much thought. It was always the same- set a piece of wood down, split it in two. Living in a world that was constantly changing, it was nice to have something that wouldn't.
Once enough wood was chopped, she stacked it and ran a match along some rocks to start a spark. Once the fire was lit, she stripped off her belt with her blade sword. She then removed her boots and hide armor. She proceeded to put on a pair of cotton shorts and t shirt she had gotten from clothing saleswoman in Riften. The woman had practically paid her to take them. Nobody wants to buy old, dirty cotton shirt. But she didn't have expensive tastes. Especially not when it came to sleepwear.
She settled down into her bag and closed her eyes, breathing in and out with the wind. Her bicep still hurt like hell. Maybe she shouldn't have tried to use destructive magic on it. The crazy SOB nearly took her arm for it. Oh well, it's not like the night could get any worse.
They had been following the trial for about an hour now. The four had split up to not draw attention to themselves. Nothing says trouble like a pack of werewolves.
Skjor and Aela had gone West, while Vilkas and Farkas headed North. So far, they had covered a lot of ground. But that didn't mean they were anywhere close.
Vilkas keep his nose to the ground, sniffing every tree he walked past. The blood was enough to pick up the scent, and it was growing stronger. Hopefully this wasn't a dead end. That's when he smelled it. Not the blood, but smoke. Campfire smoke.
Vilkas immediately made eye contact with Farkas, who had also picked up the scent. Farkas nodded, and began circling around to the opposite side of where the smoke was blowing. Vilkas continued straight forward. That was the good part of partnering up with your brother. He always knew what you were going to say just by looking at you.
Each step he tried to make quieter than the one before. Soon he could not only smell the fire, but see it. He could hear it, too. But that wasn't all he could hear. Breathing, and a heartbeat. And they weren't just his own.
From in the trees where he lurked, he could see a small campsite. A fire, some armor laying around, and in the middle… a small bedroll with a good amount of dark blonde hair sticking out from the top. The scent was almost overwhelming.
Against his better judgment, he continued forward. It was like he wasn't in his own body. He was a spectator to the will of someone else. After what felt like hours, he was standing at the foot of the bedroll. The sound of breathing was almost too much for him to take. He could almost imagine how strange it must have looked. A 7 foot black beast standing over a small pale figure rolled up into a ball. He didn't move, he didn't speak. He just watched as the figure rose and fell. For a moment, he didn't know if he could do it. Could he really hand over someone's life against their will?
As if an answer to his question, the figure stopped breathing. And everything changed in a split second as he realized there was a pair of dark blue eyes staring back at him.
