Talin looked around at the circle of fur, teeth, and claws closing in on him and Ro. Why was it that the enemies he encountered always seemed to think it was a good idea to rush him all at once? No sense of tactics whatsoever.

In less than a second, he had gauged all of the distances between himself and the closing pack and Ro and Bloodfang. Khalila was safe in her cage of stone, so he didn't have to worry about her.

With a smile as serene as the Dragontail Mountains at dawn, Talin lifted his hands. "Not smart Bloodfang. But if that's the way you want to play it, okay. Ro, move."

His sister, familiar enough with his arsenal of spells, dove for an opening between two charging werewolves, lashing out with her silver dagger as she passed. The creature she hit howled in pain and rage, but its cry was quickly drowned out by the roar of flames as the air all around Talin became a hurricane of fire. Fur and flames. A lovely combination as far as Talin was concerned.

Three of the beasts went down without a sound. Another five were caught in the blaze, howling and clawing at the air. Talin dispatched them with his sword in quick succession.

Two more, who had suffered no more than light burns, were engaging Ro. She was breathing heavily but holding her own. A movement from the corner of his eye told Talin that the other two were coming at him from the left. Without even looking at them, he cast a wide arc of lightning in their direction and was rewarded with the smell of scorched ozone, flesh, and fur, as the werewolves fell to his attack.

He was moving in to help Ro when she deftly slit the throat of one of her assailants, then, with a beautiful backwards spin, brought her other dagger around and buried it in the heart of the other.

Talin looked over his shoulder at Bloodfang, whose fur, he was pleased to see, was softly smoldering.

"That," he said, "was very, very stupid. Now I'm angry."

Though still paralyzed, the werewolf nevertheless seemed to shrink in on himself. Certainly the evil green glow faded completely from his eyes.

Do not harm me, I beg of you! I yield, I yield!

The words came as less of a thrum and more of a whine now. And within moments, a scrawny old man bearing singe marks and missing much of his hair had replaced the lycanthropic form held locked in Talin's spell.

The whelp—I mean, the girl—she is freed now, just as you wished!

Talin strode to the enclosure he'd erected around Khalila, and with a touch of his hand, dissolved the nearest wall.

She lay strewn on the floor like an abused and discarded toy. Her clothing and the straps of her armor had been torn by her berserk transformation and everything was twisted around her awkwardly; her face bore a vicious gouge across it, apparently inflicted by her own claws. But she was Human again and after a moment, her eyes hesitantly blinked open.

As Talin knelt by her side, her expression flared with alarm and she shot to a sitting position.

"Ro! Did I—?"

"She's fine," Talin assured her. "Which is more than I can say for you." Capturing her chin in his fingers, he gently turned her face to get a better look at the wound. It was nothing that the ring couldn't handle, but the haunted look in her eyes was another matter.

Launching to his feet, he turned on the old man, closing the distance between them in two long steps. Grabbing Bloodfang by the back of his scrawny neck, he forced him to look at Khalila. The old man resisted, and Talin was surprised at the strength in him, even in his current form. But Talin was not to be denied.

"That was badly done, Bloodfang," he growled. "Very badly done, indeed."

The old werewolf still wouldn't speak, even in Human form. Perhaps he no longer even remembered how.

Why do you care? She is tainted, like the ones you just slaughtered. And she is weak, because she denies the gift of Hircine. Not long from now, she will simply waste away, and then Hircine will deal with her insult himself. Or she'll fall to madness and you'll be forced to kill her. You're wasting your time either way.

Still sitting on the ground, Khalila buried her face in her hands and her whole body began to tremble. Bloodfang's mouth curled in a sadistic sneer at the sight.

Talin gave him a rough shake, even as Ro flew to Khalila, wrapping her in a warm hug.

"You ask too many questions, dog. Her value to me is my business. Your only concern is to tell me what I want to know."

Bloodfang's frightened, angry eyes darted to Talin for a moment, but then drifted back to Khalila, as if he couldn't look away. The two young women huddled together for a long moment and then Khalila gently put Ro off and rose to her feet. Given the distress she had displayed a moment ago, her expression was now astonishingly controlled. Too controlled.

"I think we're wasting our time," she said quietly. "There's nothing left to him at all but cruelty. I doubt he knows of any way to cure me, so let's just go. He'll have to be killed, I suppose."

At once, Talin understood: she'd given up all hope.

A cure? You seek a cure for the Gift of Hircine? Scorn and incredulity seemed to war in Bloodfang's face. Seek the witches of Glenmoril. It was their coven who first divined how to bestow the Gift.

"You think I hadn't found them already? They don't remember how the cure works, if they ever knew. And you know nothing, either. Another dead end."

She turned her back and slowly began to walk away, trying to set her apparel straight with painful dignity as she went.

They lied.

Khalila stopped, her back stiff and straight. Slowly—very slowly—she turned to look at the old werewolf. "What?"

If they told you that, they lied. They make the potion and sell it to this day. Any courier foolish enough to carry the elixir can expect to be set upon by vampires and the ungrateful children of Hircine. So many seeking the cure. Foolishness! Better, far better, to seek the favor of Hircine.

"Do you mean to tell me they purposefully sent me on a fetchless quest? Why? Why would they do it, if they will sell the cure to others?"

I can think of only one reason, and that is that the Lord of the Hunt himself told them to refuse you. Bloodfang's wicked eyes looked at her differently now, assessing her. He must see some great potential in you, little whelp. He won't allow you to refuse the Gift.

Khalila recoiled a step, a shiver running over her.

"I don't want it!" she shouted, her voice breaking dangerously.

Then take it up with Hircine.

Her eyes hardened to steel and each word fell like the ring of hammer on anvil. "Tell me how I can find him."

You must summon him. Or rather, you must pay someone to summon him—someone who specializes in Daedra summoning. His summoning day is the 5th of Mid Year.

Khalila blanched, and Talin understood why. That was months away.

Or...

When Bloodfang paused as if considering whether or not to continue, Talin gave him another vicious shake.

"Or what?"

Or you can go back to the witches of Glenmoril. They have a... unique bond with him. They can summon him any day of the year. Assuming he chooses to respond, that is.

"I'll make him," Khalila snarled, but Bloodfang only laughed.

How would a pitiful little mortal like you force a Daedra to do anything?

"Everyone has something to lose, even one of the greater Daedra," the warrior replied coldly. "I just have to determine what it is for Hircine. Don't bet that I can't!" She turned to Talin. "He's a wretched creature, but he has finally given us useful advice. I suppose we must therefore let him go."

"I said I'd let him live." Talin's voice was cool. "I didn't say I'd let him go." Talin tapped Bloodfang on the forehead, and the old man collapsed in a heap at his feet.

Khalila's eyes widened. "What did you do?"

"Relax," Talin said with an easy grin. "He's only sleeping; it's the same spell I've been using on you. But he'll have one heck of a surprise when he wakes up." Ushering the two women out of the cave, Talin turned and sealed the exit with a wave of his hand.

Ro gasped. "Talin. He'll starve."

"Not for a long time, he won't. So long as he doesn't mind eating rancid meat. Besides, he's a crafty one. He hasn't lived this long without figuring out how to work his way out of impossible situations."

Ro still looked skeptical.

Talin crossed his arms and regarded his disapproving little sister. "Would you rather I let him go, to hunt and prey upon the innocents of this region?"

"Well... no, but..." Ro glanced uncertainly at Khalila, as if asking for her backup.

Khalila gazed meditatively at the new wall for several moments, then shook her head.

"It doesn't sit entirely well with me, either, but Talin is right. We would come to deeply regret setting Bloodfang free."

"But—walling him up alive?" Ro protested. "Doesn't that make us no better than him?"

"Ro, you haven't seen the things I have in my questing. And I'm beginning to understand that I've seen nothing compared to what Talin has." She gave him a sidelong look. "It's the only vestige of mercy we can possibly offer to that creature…" She reached up and touched the four healing lines across her face. "He's cruel, sadistic and treacherous. He'd do us harm directly if left free, and every one of those werewolves in there that were destroyed represents a life he ruined. Never mind how many more those creatures killed outright. Being left alone with his wicked life is better than he deserves."

Ro looked at the ground unhappily, but said no more. Khalila turned then and looked at Talin directly.

"Talin, how did you deal with so many werewolves?"

The question caught Talin by surprise, and he floundered for an answer.

"Well... uh... it wasn't just me, you know," he stalled, waving a hand at Ro.

Khalila nodded thoughtfully.

"How many were you able to take care of, Ro?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"I got two," she said, looking at her brother with a mischievous grin. "After Talin wounded them."

"So. Ten werewolves, then. How?"

The question was as simple and direct as her gaze. She was apparently content to wait as long as it took him to answer.

He rubbed the back of his neck, discomfited under her regard. "Um... well, I used a Firestorm spell on them. I mean, they all decided to pile on at once, so why not? It... uh... it basically sets the air all around me on fire." He shrugged. "Fur is pretty flammable, you know? The ones that didn't die immediately were too distracted by being turned into walking torches to offer much resistance. They were pretty easy to cut down. Got a couple more with a Lightning spell, and Ro got the rest." He shrugged. "Not that big a deal, really."

He hoped she was buying it. It was the truth, just a watered down version of it. He felt no need to mention how hot his fire burned these days—he could well remember a time when he barely had enough power to scorch a trio of trolls. It was also a rare occasion that he had to use more than one lightning strike anymore, and it would take creatures much tougher than werewolves to require it.

"I see," she replied utterly deadpan. "Ten werewolves in what, three minutes or so? What took you so long?"

Meanwhile, Ro was giving him little nods of the head as if to encourage him, all the while clearly trying not to laugh.

Tell her, he thought. Just do it. Tell her who you really are. But his tongue seemed suddenly five sizes too big for his mouth. Why was this so hard? Walking into Oblivion itself and facing an army of Daedra would somehow be easier, he was sure. But he had to try.

He opened his mouth, determined to explain, but all that came out was, "We should go." And in a cracked voice, no less. His ears burned with embarrassment as he turned and headed blindly down the tunnel.

It didn't help when Ro stalked past him just so she could give him a thoroughly disgusted look. He stumped on for several more twists of the corridor in glum silence. But then Khalila caught his arm and pulled him to a stop. He looked at her sidelong and was startled to see her eyes were shining with warmth.

"You kept me from harming anyone, just as you promised, and you saved us all from that vile creature. And I strongly suspect you could have done so all by yourself, couldn't you? That's why you fight the way you do; you really don't need anyone else. And you most kindly didn't tell me what a fool I was being about that, besides!" The look in her eyes deepened to—dare he think it?—admiration. "I'm still not entirely sure why someone like you troubled to help a cursed creature like me, but I am deeply grateful, Talin. I only hope I am someday in a position to show you how much."

Several positions that would suit quite well flashed through Talin's mind, and he suddenly had new cause to be grateful for the full suit of chain he wore.

He tried to think of something clever to say, but her close proximity and the feel of her small, strong hand on his arm left his mind as barren as the Ashlands of Morrowind.

"It was Ro's idea, not mine." He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. What was meant to sound humble and self-effacing instead came out as uncaring and petulant.

Something flickered through her eyes too fast for him to read and her smile dimmed a bit. She let her hand drop. But her tone remained cordial, at least.

"Well, nonetheless, your presence is greatly appreciated." She took a deep breath and shook her shoulders, changing topics. "Let's get back on the move. I will be very glad to be free of these infernal caves!"

Talin could practically feel her relief as she moved away from him.