We're well into the Pale when a blizzard forces us to take shelter, but we soon find our cave is shared. After a few minutes, a bear climbs out from the depths of the cavern and begins roaring at us. Within a second my companion has her teeth sunk deep in his throat, his lifeblood spilling out on the ground. I pat my pack member on the head before I push myself up and do the stupidest thing I'll ever do in my entire life, I walk out into the blizzard and begin searching for firewood. I only go a few feet from our haven, but still struggle to find my way back. When I return I drop the three twigs I managed to dig up on the floor. My nord blood protected me from a good amount of the cold, but I'm still shaking like a leaf in a storm.
I search my pockets and find a small stub of flint, but it's enough. I take off my armor and rip a small amount of cotton from inside. I'll be uncomfortable and feel the iron rubbing against my skin, but I'd rather be upset than dead. I crawl over to the dead bear and cut out a handful of his fat. Once again I crouch before the fire, but I add some bear fat to the pile of twigs. My dagger is out and I'm using the flint to strike it, but not a single spark appears. It takes a few minutes, but eventually I strike my dagger with the flint just right and a tiny flame appears on the bear fat. Without a second thought I lean forward and begin blowing on the fat, but carefully. Too much and I put it out, but too less and it'll go out on its own.
After a few heartbeats of careful blowing the flame spreads, and in a few minutes a small fire's started. I crawl over to the bear and collect some of his fat and meat. I store the fat for later use, I never know when we'll need a fire and have no fuel. I place some of the meat on rocks near the fire, but store a good amount of it for later. But, there's only so much room in my pockets and I'm only able to carry a few handfuls of precious supplies. My pack member comes sniffing and I'm forced to shoo her away from the hot rocks. When the meat's cooked I chew a few small bites, but can't stomach much else. My companion happily eats it before going to sleep. I scratch her neck and lie down beside her, using her side as a makeshift pillow. As I drift off in to sleep I gaze at the dancing flame with a thousand thoughts trampling through my head.
I'm breaking my fast when the two men appeared, both of them poorly armed and barely armored. I'm swallowing a mouthful of melted snow when an iron quarrel hits the stone beside my head. I pull my dagger from my hip and bow from my back while I spin around as my assailant curses. The man on the left is attempting to reload when my arrow pierces his skull, but his body hasn't even hit the ground when his partner charges at me. I dodge his clumsy attack and plunge my dagger in his chest, but curse when the metal snaps near the tip. The Skyforge makes the strongest weapons in the world, but my dagger was forged when Ria was little more than a babe. I've used it for all of my career and it's never failed me once. Except the one time I need it the most. I give a small laugh at the irony of it all, my dagger finally gave out when my career did.
I search their bodies, but only find a few coins and a bottle of beer. I pocket the gold and drink the alcohol while I wait for my ally to return, she went off to find fresh meat for her breakfast. When she finally returns I use some snow to clean the blood from her fur, but we still leave before I'm ready. I'd hoped we'd have a few days of peace before mercenaries found us, but it appears Athis has been busy. I begin walking west towards Solitude, if my pack member was truly favored by Elisif than the queen won't care that Athis is charging us with crimes. What he's charging us with I don't know, but it'll no doubt be something huge. Whiterun is currently under Stormcloak control so the queen may not care about the charges and wave them once Whiterun is captured, but there's always the chance she might not.
If worst comes to worst we'll just flee Solitude, although I doubt we'll make it. The city's so heavily guarded we might not even be able to escape the throne room. The more likely outcome is my body being thrown in an unmarked grave and Queen Elisif getting a new werewolf skin blanket. If my friend is even in her werewolf form when we're brought before the Jarl of Solitude. I hope she isn't, but Solitude's only a few days away and the potion doesn't seem to be wearing off. I consider climbing atop my pack member's back, but she might just buck me or bolt. I've thought about taking my beast form, but I'm certain she'd run away from me. The last thing I need is to run halfway across Skyrim chasing my wayward companion. As we walk the snow slowly turns to grass, but when I lie down to sleep we're still two days walk from Solitude. I try to sleep, but thoughts of mercenaries keep entering my mind. After a few hours I push myself up and begin walking again, my companion always by my side.
My feet are aching, my eyes are only half open, and my companion has thick strands of drool hanging from her open mouth. Yet, we force ourselves to walk on no matter what. We haven't stopped since the blizzard forced us to take shelter. The dried bear meat was long ago eaten by me, but my companion managed to swallow a rabbit whole a few hours ago. My mouth aches for water, but we passed the last stream yesterday. A few days. The walk to Solitude was suppose to take a few days at most, but I must have read the stars wrong.
We got lost at least ten times, and it's been eight days since our flight from Whiterun. I don't dare stop for the fear of hired swords slitting our throats in the middle of the night. My friend was suppose to become human a few days ago, but shows little improvement. I'm not sure when I begin kneeling, but all I know is my companion is nudging me with her nose. I swat her snout away, but look up when she whimpers and points. I snarl at her, but stop when I see the distant city shimmering atop the mighty stone cliff. Solitude.