Chapter 25: A Place in the Pack

The initiation feast carried on well into the night, and my performance adopted a more casual air than it ever had in the past. Rather than retreating to my usual out of the way table at the end of the mead hall, I had been drawn into the centre of the room and placed in a chair at the main table as soon as Vilkas and I had entered Jorrvaskr. It was from this seat that I had talked and laughed with my new family over a meal, and then told stories and sung songs.

Eventually, the mead hall had begun to empty as the Companions had drifted, or staggered, to the living quarters. Kodlak had moved closer to my seat, and I could see that it was his intention to listen, not speak. I took on my regular style of program, playing one song continually after the other. By way of thanking him for his trust in me, I performed all of the songs that he had, at one time or another, told me had helped him the most.

Vilkas remained as well, as I knew he would, though he stayed at the end of one of the tables, stooped down and talking in a low voice to Njada while the woman finished her ale. She had returned with a scroll of paper that I had overheard was a map for Kodlak that afternoon, and from the snatches of their conversation that I caught between my strains now, it sounded like Vilkas was pressing her for a more inclusive report than that which she had given when she had come for her pay.

Once Vilkas had let Njada retire, only the two men of the Circle remained as my audience. While I felt a little tired, the air grew more comfortable after Njada had departed, so I opted to remain for a few songs more.

Vilkas shifted to Kodlak's side, taking a seat and leaning close to him, murmuring; "Njada persuaded an orichalcum miner she met at an inn in Falkreath draw your map."

I perked my ears while I continued to pluck out the instrumental number I had been performing; grateful that my hands knew the forms so well that I didn't have to focus much of my attention on it.

"Persuaded?" Kodlak sighed wearily, speaking in a voice as low and quiet as Vilkas'.

Vilkas pressed on; there was no need to discuss what Njada considered to be an appropriate form of persuasion when she wanted something. "He told her that he'd just left his contract at a mine called Bilegulch, owing to a couple of his peers being lured away in the night by hagravens."

Kodlak seemed to consider this for a time, then shook his head, conceding, "That is not usual hagraven behaviour."

"No, it isn't," Vilkas drawled, in a tone that advised that there was still more to tell. "One of those who'd been lured away turned up in the Falkreath dungeons a few days ago. He is being held for tearing a little girl to pieces," he spat the last through clenched teeth.

"What?" I stopped playing; the blood draining from my face. I hazarded a glance to the pair.

Neither Vilkas nor Kodlak were surprised I had been listening in; they had been speaking in low voices so their conversation would not drown out my songs, not because they did not wish me to hear what was being said. It had often been this way of an evening, when Vilkas had opted to join Kodlak and I at his writing desk in the living quarters, rather than retreat to his room and quiet solitude. On those nights, I would eventually fall into playing for them both, and the pair would talk in low, serious voices that drifted underneath the notes, masking what they were saying from any of the ranks that might happen to be restless that night.

Both men regarded me in return; Vilkas' expression grim and furious, and Kodlak's remorseful and defeated.

"I'm sorry that you heard that, Celeste," he sighed, lowering his eyes to the floor and shaking his head. "Everything about this curse is ugly and cruel. And, it seems men and women still sacrifice their souls for the sake of obtaining their fleeting, turbulent power. They are our witches, Vilkas," Kodlak added in the same grave tone, lifting his head up once more.

"I'll be ready within the hour," was Vilkas' dark reply as he rose; the chair legs scraping loudly against the flagstones in his haste.

He's going after the Glenmoril witches, I realised, starting at the sharp, sudden sounds he had made. Njada, of all people, found them!

Kodlak shook his head. "No," he insisted evenly, "we must stay our plans, until we know what has become of Aela and Skjor. I cannot have all four of you absent from Jorrvaskr at once. Have you had any word from your brother?" he asked without hesitation, changing the subject before Vilkas could protest.

He shook his head, dropping back into his chair. "Farkas is not the letter-writing type," he grumbled.

"Just as well," Kodlak considered, glancing my way; for whatever reason, I couldn't fathom. "It is better that he concentrate all his efforts on locating our wayward pups."

"Send someone else after the witches," I felt an urge to contribute to the conversation. "Treat it like any other job."

Kodlak opened his mouth to speak, but Vilkas' reply came first; fast and incensed.

"No," he growled. "The witches of Glenmoril are mine."

Kodlak closed his mouth, grimacing yet seemingly unsurprised by Vilkas' vehemence. It was clear that they had discussed the matter prior, and that there was no room, in Vilkas' mind, for compromise. But the air between them was clearly tense on this matter.

I turned my eyes down to the strings of my lute, and resumed the piece where I had stopped playing it a moment ago. For a few heartbeats, there was no more conversation, as I endeavoured to ease my shield-brother's anger with the peaceful air.

"Can I help?" I asked quietly, taking a different tactic.

While I had promised to help cure them, I was yet to find a single way to be of use to them in obtaining what they needed. My role in their cleansing was to continually drown out the beasts with song, which, while they assured me was important as it helped Kodlak to think clearer and Vilkas to face the day in the wake of his recent transformation, felt like a nothing in the scheme of their struggle.

"You are helping," Vilkas replied firmly.

I smiled sadly; my eyes still not rising from my strings. "Perhaps, when the time comes to go on your witch hunt, I might go with you?" I proposed.

"With me?" Vilkas hissed.

"That would not be wise," Kodlak said at the same moment, his voice rising warningly over his second in command's.

I did glance up now, a little surprised by the timbre of their opposition, and frowned at them both, yet continued to play my lute. "Why not? Have I not advanced in the past two weeks?" I asked.

Vilkas drew my attention to him as he shook his head. "This is not about you. Do not try to make it so."

"That's not what I intended-"

"Yes, it is," his reply was blunt, cool and calm; his eyes too knowing. "You try to bait me into taking you by drawing me into acknowledging your improvement," he surmised, then shook his head again, his eyes narrowing. "You have been making progress, Celeste, but you are not coming with me. It is out of the question."

My hands stilled, half way through a verse, and I cast Kodlak a glance. Did I even want to go with Vilkas? Why had I suggested such a thing?

Because you can help him keep his calm. The reply settled around me, revealing a deeper-seated reason to words I had said in apparent whimsy at the time, and, validated by this logic, I felt that I should attempt to convince them both that I could be of use on this expedition.

I knew as well as Vilkas what his task would involve; the witches had to be killed, and their heads rent from their shoulders and collected for use in the severance ritual. It was grisly and barbaric, and beneath us, I felt, but Kodlak's research had uncovered no other way. It was merely a job that had to be done, and by exterminating the coven, the Companions would be ensuring that nobody else be lured into accepting the beast blood, through the witch's means, at least.

The Harbinger was sitting back in his seat, his arms crossed before him and a resigned frown on his face as he regarded me sadly. I could not reason this depth of sorrow, and it made me turn my eyes from him at once.

I trained my focus back on Vilkas. "You need me to come with you. What if you turn-?"

"I won't," he cut me off warningly, his teeth clenched again.

"But you might," I recovered swiftly, turning in my seat so I was facing him, and placing my lute on the table. "You clearly feel very passionate about the task ahead and -"

"I have said no."

"And how am I to prepare for actual combat with Shor-knows what if I have no field training-?"

"Celeste," Vilkas cut in again; stern, with a barb of ice I had never heard in him before now; his tone piercing my throat and freezing my tongue.

I closed my mouth; stunned.

"It is late," his eyes were as equally cold as his voice. "You had best get to bed," he suggested, in a way that made it sound like a command.

Bristling at his dismissal, over a mere difference of opinion, my cheeks flamed. I stood at once, grasping my lute by the neck as I dipped a hasty farewell to the Harbinger, never raising my flashing eyes from the floor.

"I hope my offering has soothed you tonight, Harbinger. I shall report at dawn, to further my training," I murmured, turning and making for the exit.

Kodlak finally broke his silence; calling out wearily after me. "You will not stay in the dorm tonight?"

"No, thank you," I replied stiffly, without turning back.

In three steps I was opening the door; in four, I was outside, staring up into a mute, flat darkness. My eyes burned from the sudden change; thick clouds obscured the moons, aurorae and stars now. I breathed deeply again and again in an attempt to locate my calm, staring up at the blackness as the cool air stung my flushed cheeks. Spindly fingers of fear tickled the back of my neck, threatening to tighten their grasp. I was outside, and alone. Anyone could find me. They could find me.

Child, I berated myself. With some disdain, I pushed aside my fright, threw my lute strap over my shoulders, and purposefully strode down the stairs, making for home. Before I had reached the Gildergreen, I heard the doors to Jorrvaskr opening.

"Wait."

Vilkas' call was begrudging, and I knew that Kodlak had made him come after me.

I didn't turn, or slow my steps, pretending to have never heard him, and willed him to go back inside. The night had begun so promising; I had felt so welcome; like a true Companion. I wanted to help them. I had to help them. And Vilkas had tossed what I had offered aside.

Jogging footfalls crunched along the gravel behind me, coming nearer every beat. I cursed quietly, drawing to a halt as I closed my eyes. Vilkas was following me; there was no point in trying to outrun him. I would have to turn and endure whatever it was that he wanted to say to me.

I faced the burly Nord, my jaw locking stubbornly as I opened my eyes and watched him slow to a stop before me. "Did I leave something in the mead hall?" I asked cooly.

"Don't be like that because you didn't get your way," Vilkas urged in a murmur, handing me my scarf.

I took it from him, being mindful not to snatch, and broke eye contact to wind it around my neck. Evidently, I had left something behind.

But I did not appreciate his cutting comment; with my scarf secure, I made to turn and bid him good night. In the act of turning away, Vilkas reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Celeste, wait," he insisted.

Again I complied, turning to face him, forcing a mask of composure over my features as I met his slightly narrowed eyes. "What is it that you need, shield-brother?" I asked evenly.

"To explain," his hand tightened its grip on my shoulder; perhaps his senses were telling him that I wanted to walk away; and his mouth formed an unimpressed straight line. "I need you to be here for Kodlak, when I go," he told me; his tone strained. "Even surrounded by his family, you must see how he is tormented, by his beast, and his conscience," Vilkas' voice lowered to an imploring hiss. "He believes that our suffering is his fault."

I flushed at my childishness while he talked. I had presumed the worst when he had begun speaking, but now? There was truth in what Vilkas said; I had seen the distress in Kodlak's countenance, and had also placed it as guilt. The concern in Vilkas' plea assuaged my fleeting frustration with the man before me. I frowned, glancing down to the cobbles of the courtyard surrounding the Gildergreen, and nodded. "Yes. I see it."

"Then you understand why, as you have sworn to help us, that you must remain here," he stated, rather than asked. In the corner of my eye, I noticed he was ducking down to my level, perhaps to gauge the sincerity of my impending reply.

Again, I nodded, and met his eyes; crestfallen, as I realised that Vilkas had been trying to say as much in the mead hall when he had warned me against making the thread of conversation personal. His refusal wasn't about me at all. "I understand."

"Good," he stood tall again, squeezing my shoulder before he released me; seemingly relieved, letting out a long exhale that created a little puff of white air between us, so cold was the night. He took in our surrounds, and then stepped up beside me. "Come on. I'll see you home."

Feeling muted and ashamed of myself, I simply nodded and resumed my path along the road that would take us through the market square.

We walked in silence then; the air still uncomfortable between us, though no longer crackling with the spark of indignation. The silence gaped wider, and I felt a need to fill it, though my heart was not in it, and a weary inner-voice denied each topic my thoughts threw at me.

At length, I realised that it was not that Vilkas had chastised me that burned; I had experienced worse from the Circle during my training sessions. It was that he had pulled rank on our conversation in Jorrvaskr in order to shush me. He had treated me like a disobedient child that he was sending to her room for her insolence.

Get over it, I berated myself, as we walked through the empty marketplace and turned down the road that would bring us to Breezehome. He has explained why he said it.

A stiff breeze buffeted against us from this angle; carrying the tang that promised snow, and soon; perhaps it would fall in the next few minutes. I held my arms around myself, feeling small and sorry for myself, for all my internal chastisement.

Get over it for Kodlak, my inner thoughts tried again. He needs you to be adult about this. That is why Vilkas ordered you away; to stop you from arguing with him in front of Kodlak.

This realisation made me sigh openly, and I felt Vilkas give me a sideways glance as my breath puffed out its own little white cloud before me.

"Nearly there," his voice rumbled.

I nodded, clutching my arms tighter as another stiff, icy breeze pushed against us. "I am sorry," I said quietly, knowing that even if the wind caught my words to whisk them away, his superior senses would still hear them. I huffed at the reminder of his abilities; at how much they must have relayed to him over the course of the evening, exposing me for all my determined masks of composure.

"So am I," he admitted in a low tone.

Something fell over my back, and I startled; looking to see what it was. A large hand; Vilkas' hand, settling on my shoulder. He'd draped his arm around me. The heat from his body, pressed next to mine, immediately warmed me and created a barrier against the frigid night.

I turned my head and glanced up to him, crossing my brows. "Vilkas?" I asked cautiously.

He sideways looked down to me and jostled my shoulder where his hand lay, huffing an ironic laugh. "Easy, shield-sister. You were cold," was all the explanation he gave.

"I was," I admitted, glancing back to the road ahead, trying to shake off the discomfort rising within me at his gesture, despite its innocence, as the letter I had written to Hadvar somehow gained weight in my pocket.

–

As though they had been summoned by the discovery of the Glenmoril coven, Farkas and Aela returned the next morning, about two hours after I had begun training with Vilkas.

My teacher stood tall and dropped the practise sword, the uncharacteristic horrified expression twisting his features making me start and turn to see what had happened behind me.

I sighted the pair, shifting around the upturned ship. Farkas looked unharmed, though grimmer than I had ever seen him.

Aela limped beside the mountainous Nord, her fiery hair streaming behind her like actual flames in her wake. Her expression was blank and her glazed eyes, narrowed; it was clear that she was refusing assistance and wanted nobody's pity. But despite having no love for my shield-sister, who would have torn me to pieces a week earlier, I found I did feel sympathy for her now. It was impossible not to; she looked so trodden, like a wild creature who had been broken into a savage tameness, who was fighting to prove to herself that she was free.

She wore armour that was too large for her, made of hide, but as they drew nearer I could see rips in the seams. Given that when I had last sighted her, she had been a werewolf, I told myself that she had simply picked up the first armour she had come across after she had reverted, and that it had been in this state when she had found it.

"Where's Skjor?" was Vilkas' greeting, his words desolate, as though he already knew the answer.

"Not now," Farkas grumbled, stopping before his twin.

Aela's hard eyes wavered then flashed as she glared accusingly up to her shield-brother. "He's dead," she growled as her eyes swerved to land on me; a challenge, daring me to react. I made my expression plain, knowing on some level that it was no use; she would always be able to sense my heart accelerating when she spoke.

A stony silence met her declaration. Aela didn't stop before us; she continued on, limping up the stairs to the verandah, and let herself into Jorrvaskr.

Vilkas glanced to his brother; some unspoken message passing between them. He didn't even look at me as he said quietly, "Celeste, you're in charge of the accounts book. Practise forms and fire at the target when you aren't occupied."

He palmed me a key that he'd taken from his belt, which I knew was for the locked box he kept the gold in. He didn't seem to need a response from me, which was good, because I didn't feel I was at liberty to speak. I had seen how he managed things, during my training sessions; I would have no difficulty with the task in his stead.

Farkas and Vilkas disappeared into Jorrvaskr without another word, their intent plain; to go to Kodlak.

All was suddenly silent in the training yard; those Companions not of the Circle were all out on jobs, as usual. As if to punctuate this newfound isolation, a mournful, howling wind rushed over the wall beyond the targets and training dummies.

I shuddered, slowly retreating to the verandah, placing my sword on a chair, and taking up my cup of water. My hand shook as I lifted the drink to my lips and drained it, sloshing a little of it down my front in my haste to occupy myself.

Skjor's dead, the void in my mind supplied in a snarling echo of Aela's forceful tone.

Replacing the empty cup on the table, I grasped my bow. Vilkas had told me to continue training, hadn't he? I made myself rise; walked across the earthen courtyard; tugged the arrows I had shot the previous night free; retreated to my shooting point. All of this was done mechanically, automatically, while my mind blanked out everything else, but for the two words that repeated over and over to torment me.

He's dead.

It was my fault.

The arrows trickled out of my fingers to land on the dirt by my feet, but for one that I retained and placed. I adjusted my stance, raised my bow, and aimed.

If I had never come before the Companions and played for them that night – if only I had gone somewhere, anywhere else-

NO, the command in my mind carried Vilkas' drawl. This is not about you. Do not try to make it about you. Now get to work.

Upbraided by my own thoughts – or in this case, a memory of Vilkas berating me the previous night – I exhaled and fired. The arrow struck the centre circle, a little to the left, but still certainly within the bounds.

I stared at the quivering fletch as the arrow wavered to a stop, huffing a joyless laugh at the sight. Two weeks ago, such a shot would have rendered me ecstatic. Today, the victory felt hollow. I had obtained the training that I had desired from the Companions, and as a result, one of their senior members had died-

I bit out a growl of frustration at myself for continually concluding that Skjor's death, and whatever had happened to Aela, had been my fault. I reached down for another arrow, reminding myself sternly of their crimes: they had chosen to abhor me, they had ambushed me, threatened me, and would have turned me into a werewolf or killed me that night. Even after they had been stopped by Vilkas, they had chosen to fight him, and they had chosen to run. Whatever had happened next had been a culmination of their own decisions.

I placed my arrow and adjusted my stance, lining the target up with the point as my sight. You cannot hold a grudge against a dead man, I told myself next. The Circle in particular would grieve his loss; I could not stand by and breathe easy in their faces because the man that had bullied and vexed me was gone.

"Lady Dragonborn?" a woman asked uncertainly, drawing my whole attention back to where I was.

I lowered my bow at once, arrow still in place, and turned to her. A customer. "Oh. Hello, yes. How can I help?"

The woman, a Nord with long, stringy blonde hair was wearing common clothes of brown and green, clutching a coin purse in her hands as she regarded me warily. I had the notion that I had seen her about town, perhaps once or twice in the market square as I had passed through, but had no idea who she was. "Perhaps this isn't the best way," she sighed, to herself it seemed.

"No, please, I assure you," I made light of her disbelief with a welcoming smile. "That mead hall is full of warriors twice my size who will be able to carry out your contract," I mounted the stairs up to the verandah, to the table where the accounts book lay, and motioned that she approach. "I need to start with your name...?"

The woman stepped forward, and took the seat I offered her. After she told me her name and some other details required of the ledger, she told me what she required. I tried not to laugh as she relayed the details of the contract to me.

Her name was Gwendolyn; she managed Battle-Born farms, outside of town. As it happened, she had been receiving the unwanted attentions of the Bannered Mare's resident bard, and given that he knew where she lived, and that she lived alone, she was willing to pay someone to make sure he backed off.

"With pleasure," I murmured as I jotted down the details of the job. Intimidation contracts were one of the most common job requests. I counted out her money before locking it in the safe by the side of the table.

"Promise me you won't mention my name," she insisted. "That will only make him worse."

I glanced up to her, wondering that this hardy woman seemed to carry a genuine level of fear for the smarmy bard. My thoughts darkened as I began to ponder what he might have said, or done, to make her so afraid.

"We will conduct the contract with the utmost discretion," I assured her calmly, though my blood boiled within. I closed the account book before me with more force than I had intended to.

Giving me another uncertain glance, Gwendolyn dipped her head in thanks and farewell, then retreated.

Take this job, I urged myself immediately. The other Companions were busy, and the Circle would not know, or care. Take it and teach him a lesson.

How, I mocked myself? Intimidation contracts generally ended in a brawl!

He won't hit you. Not in front of his employer and customers.

This thought resolved me, and I opened the account book to the previous page at once, jotting my name in the 'assigned to' column. A thrill rushed through me as I closed the book again and returned to my archery practise, revelling in the idea of berating Mikael as though I was some champion for the women he had ever made feel uncomfortable. I would go as soon as I was relieved of my position.

Until then, I had to prepare myself mentally for the confrontation.

Words that I would say to Mikael formed and scattered and reformed over the course of the next few hours as I shot targets, practised my sword forms against a training dummy, and noted down additional contracts, collecting people's gold, as both arrived from civilians and couriers.

Vilkas returned to the training yard when the sun was high above. I had resolved to stop for lunch after I had finished my current form, but when I heard the door open, and turned to see my teacher emerging, I stopped what I was doing and watched him approach.

"You're dismissed for the afternoon," he told me gravely, reaching out for my sword. His manner was distracted; he barely looked at me.

I passed it to him. "Shall I return tonight, as usual?" I asked him carefully.

He glanced up to meet my eyes finally; the silvery depths marred by grief. "You have not had training adequate today to bind you to your night time contract, should you wish to stay away."

I faltered, wishing he had just given me a direct yes or no. "Do...you want me to come back and play?" again carefully, watchful for the slightest response. "Or would you consider it inappropriate?"

Vilkas turned his eyes away from me, glancing out to the wall, and the skies above. His reply was still flat. "My wishes shouldn't factor into your decision about tonight. I won't be here."

Oh, I remembered. "You're going after the..."

A quick, warning look from him made me reconsider my words.

I pursed my lips. "You leave for Falkreath this afternoon?" I tried again.

His look softened; his melancholy glaze returned. His shoulders sank. "Yes."

Nodding, I walked toward him and reached out the safe key to him. "This is yours."

He looked down to the key in my small palm, as though trying to remember what it was, then shook his head. "Can you keep it?" he implored, his voice a little thicker than usual. "Farkas always makes a mess of my book and unbalances the safe, and Aela is not in a frame of-"

"Of course," I cut him off, not needing to hear any more. I closed my hand around the key and withdrew it. "I will diligently maintain your meticulous records," I promised, trying for a half-smile.

He didn't seem to be able to return the smile, though he nodded his gratitude. "All right, then. Farkas will take over training you, tomorrow morning."

"I look forward to working with him."

"Thank you," he mumbled gratefully, perhaps simply because I hadn't caused a fuss. He turned away, making for Jorrvaskr again, to prepare, I assumed. "I will return as soon as..."

He trailed off, seemingly at a loss, and my heart ached for him. Skjor's death was, naturally, a major blow to the Circle, and Vilkas was forcing himself to proceed, venturing out to take on the Glenmoril witches alone as he had vowed, while the rest of his family took time to grieve under Jorrvaskr's roof.

"Vilkas, wait."

He stopped and only turned his head to regard me over his shoulder, but said nothing, and ask I had asked him; waited.

His eyes were despondent, and alone. He looked like he needed a hug. I took a step toward him, resolved on doing just that, and then stopped, rethinking my decision. Despite what had occurred, the professional Vilkas would not appreciate being hugged by his charge. Would he?

The thought made me frown, for surely he would accept the gesture given all that had passed between us. But I had waited too long now, and Vilkas had turned back toward the doors to Jorrvaskr, and was leaving again.

"I'm so sorry, about everything," I called after him hastily.

Vilkas sighed; his body sagging as he did. For a few heartbeats, he hesitated, then he requested of me; "Take care of Kodlak and the others, while I am gone. They will need your strength in the coming days, shield-sister."

He'd said all of this with his back to me.

"I will," I promised. "Take...care of yourself."

Without further requests or ceremony, he loped the last few strides between him and the mead hall doors, and closed them gently behind him once within.

I must have been staring at the doors for a time, because the next thing I knew, Ria's cheerful voice was cutting through my focus, and the world sped up again.

"Vilkas, I did it," she crowed as she rounded Jorrvaskr. "I felled the bloody bear!"

She halted when she saw me standing in the middle of the training yard alone. "Oh. Where is he?"

I shook my head to try to dislodge the melancholy that had consumed me in the wake of Vilkas'. "He's got a job to prepare for, but he's left me the key to the safe. Bear, you say?"

She grinned, and I made myself smile back. Kodlak would tell the others about Skjor, when they had all gathered.

"Oh yes," she seemed eager to talk of her exploits. "Huge, brute of a beast it was, too, terrorising these poor fishermen for every salmon they caught," she drew toward the desk I had retreated to, and sat on the side of the table, watching me write in the account book. "They tried fishing away from the shore lines, and even hired a boat for a time, but the blasted creature would swim out to them!"

"How stubborn," I mused, marking Ria's assignment complete, and noting how much gold she had been promised.

I paid Ria, and the merry woman made for the living quarters, telling me that she needed a bath and some rest, and calling out laughingly that maybe I could sing a song about a bear at that evening's performance.

Smiling until the door had closed behind her, I sank back down into the chair and stared at the open pages of the accounts book. I didn't really take in what I was seeing. I considered my options, regarding my night; to return for a performance, or stay out of the Circle's way, and found that I could not convince myself that removing myself from Jorrvaskr's halls was the correct path.

But I would give the Companions a little reprieve from me, at least. Once the sun had set, I would return home and refresh myself as usual, then undertake the intimidation job at the Mare. And then I would present myself to the Companions, and determine whether or not they were in the mood for music.

I very much doubted they would be, particularly Aela, but whether they wanted me to distract them with song or not, I was one of them, and regardless of what had passed between Skjor and I, I needed to do as Vilkas had bade, and simply be there for them.