Husk jolted awake as a shudder shook through him. Even with the thick lining of the bedroll, the harsh chill managed to sneak through the gaps in the seams. Husk groaned, snuggling down deeper. Just as he was on the cusp of blessed sleep yet again - the wind blew open the tent flap like the crack of a whip. "Hircine above..." The half elf cursed under his breath. Aches plagued him, but he managed to drag himself up to sit.

"I'd ask how our fires doing, but that won't do much good," Husk mumbled tiredly. The bedroll beside laid empty. Vilkas usually gave off enough body heat to keep the tent, and his back, comfortable. It was certainly warmer than sleeping alone. Husk pulled his makeshift blanket closer. The bear fur cloak, which Vilkas had yet to reclaim, sadly proved to be of little help.

Stiffly Husk managed to pull himself onto his knees. Pinpricks of pain trickled down his spine. He paused. Carefully rolling his shoulders, he was met with only minor resistance. He sighed, frowning at the very idea of what he was about to do. But it had to be done. Gingerly Husk used the tent's support pole before slowly pulling himself up. His legs burned from the effort. Normally, if it could be called normal , he would have simply dealt with the cold. But things had changed.

Things were different. For once he actually had some say so - and what he wanted was to not freeze to death. Squinting, he eyed the distance between himself and the campfire. In all honesty, the simple risk of stumbling was far better than catching a cold. There was no masking the feeling of sickness as it lurked in his bones. He was ill; he knew, and there was still the strong chance that he would die. Husk understood death., and had accepted it long before Vilkas or Aela had found him..

However, acceptance didn't mean he would lie down and accept his fate.

A possible future, a home alongside the man who had rescued him, and protection from the Silverhand - the possibilities were too precious to let death steal away so needlessly. Husk didn't want to think on how the Companion would react if he returned to camp, only to find him dead from the cold. The warrior would probably blame himself, Husk figured. He refused to allow it. After the fight that had ended with Aela leaving...Husk refused to damage the man's conscious any further.

Husk shuffled stiffly out of the tent and towards the fire. Each step swayed as his head began to spin - but he persisted. The low flames did little to help him see. Shadows reached out and mingled together as they danced by the corners of camp and swam in the edges of his vision.

Carefully, finally , Husk managed to sit down in front of the dying embers. He shuddered. Each breath left a fire of its own behind as he wheezed.. There had only been twelve steps from the tent to the fire, but it was twelve more steps than he wanted to take. A violent shiver ran down his frame.

New kindling was given to the blaze, feeding not only the fire, but his pride.

Husk sat by quietly. Its gentle orange glow grew quickly. It defied the wind as it flickered, but never gave in. Much like himself. Husk chuckled softly at the parallel. Fire had caused him so much pain in the past, but he held no fear of it as he held out his hands to warm them.

Husk couldn't wait to show the Companion that he was doing better.

Turns out he didn't have to wait long. The werewolf grinned as a glint of armor caught his eyes. "Find anything good out there?"

"We're about to find out."

Husk's blood ran cold.

The Imperial bandit forced a yellowed crooked smile as he lumbered into the camp. Wiping his bent nose on his sleeve, he waved with a heavily scarred hand - but it wasn't in greeting. "Looks like we've got ourselves a beggar," he laughed gravley as two more bandits came up behind him. A nord joined his boss followed, by an old scraggly Orc.

Husk said nothing.

"A well off beggar to boot." The nord who'd spoken was similarly young as Husk, though there was no kindness in his eyes. The same could be said for the war ravaged Orc whose arms bore thick long scars and a chipped sword on his of the men began to go through the crates while the Orc approached Husk.

Husk said nothing, only eyeing them over with quiet regard. Even as the leader flashed his blade, the werewolf only blinked in indifference.

"He's a bit of a slow beggar too, me thinks." The Orc bandit kicked at the dirt, purposefully aiming it Husk's way.

"I wouldn't go through those boxes if I were you. They're rittled with disease," He finally spoke, bordely, clearing his throat from the dust.

The head bandit threw his head back with a laugh, shrugging off the warning. Another small healing potion found its way into the Imperials hand. Its red gleam was soon splattered into the dirt as it was thrown to the ground, shattering the glass.

Husk shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, suite yourself. If you catch blood-rot, or have your blood drained by a vampire that's your fault."

The bandits paused. Slowly their faces turned towards him, expressions blended with confusion and concern.

Husk smiled lazily, which in itself was a miracle given he was absolutely terrified. Desperation, something he'd grown to know, settled over him. The only chance of survival was to hold out. He knew that. It was impossible for him to shift so soon, even without the injuries. All he could hope for was Vilkas' swift return. Otherwise….he tried not to think about what would happen. Husk suppressed a shudder. He would much rather go by sickness.

It was time to do what the Silverhand knew best.

Lie until something worked.

Without a word Husk smiled. Fangs peaked through his lips. "It's been a while since I've fed..." He dragged his tongue against the point of his teeth, eyeing them thoughtfully. "Then again you've probably already been infected by the disease from the boxes." He tilted his head to the side, lower lip coming out slightly in a small disinterested pout.

The head bandit yanked the rusty sword from his belt. Husk only smiled more in return. Not just to play the part, but from the spark of hope as a scent reached him.

Vilkas .

Husk had no choice but to buy more time until the trained fighter could help him. Husk's eyes went towards the bandit who was beginning to shake, bringing his eyebrow to a knit. "The first thing the sickness does is make you feel weak at the knees, then the trembles start and your heart begins to beat so hard it eventually just gives out," Husk explained sadly, as if he'd lost his meal. "A pity really."

All color left the bandit's face.

Fear washed over the camp as the bandit's heart pounded against his ribs. Husk almost laughed. If he really was a vampire there would be no way for him to be any danger to them anyways in his condition. Not that they needed to know that.

Terrifying or not, Husk had to admit that he was having fun.

The head bandit laughed nasally as he crept closer. It was a raspy sound that almost reminded Husk of snooty royalty. "Look here you freak, there's no sickness or vampires, you're just some beggar with teeth and now you're going to be a dead beggar!" Husk did his best to fake a yawn. The leader's face darkened. "If you think me and my men here would fall for such a dirty trick you have another thing coming," he vowed raspily. "When we get done with you there'll be nothing but ribbons!"

Vilkas' silhouette appeared behind the bandits, however Husk felt anything but assured as the bandit's weapons were drawn. There was still too much distance. There wasn't enough time. As the Imperial raised his sword, Husk let out a low growl. He refused to die by the hands of such scum.

A shriek pierced the night.

Distracted by the feral sound, which had leant some truth to the Vampire claim, the bandit's were left unaware as the Companion rose behind them. It was a deadly mistake. As a second growl filled the air, the leader's head snapped around, forgetting about the other threat. Husk drew Aela's dagger.

The bandit who had shrieked was cut off - as was his head. Crimson splattered as it flew from his shoulders. The Companion leapt on his next victim. A warcry rang out. Stumbling forward, the Orc grabbed the blade that stuck out from his stomach. A curse bubbled from his lips, as did the blood before he finally fell with a clatter.

Husk seized the moment and lept .

Husk fell forward along with the corpse; tumbling off with a wheeze as they were thrown to the ground. Blinding pain forced Husk to let go of the dagger. When the dust finally cleared, the werewolf lingered on the ground, fighting to catch his breath. The dagger was still buried in the leader's back.

Once some of the dust settled, Husk opened his eyes, glaring over at the imperial. He was dead.

On the cautious side of things, Husk reached out with his boot and prodded the bandit. Dead. Husk smiled. Not only had he managed to distract the bandits, but he had even spilt the blood of their leader! Pride rushed through him. It was a fine hunt in his eyes; even injured he and Vilkas had made them pay for setting foot in their camp. He expected to see Vilkas glowing from the hunt, but slowly the smile fell from his face.

The stranger offered his hand.

Burly and as thick as a mountain, the man bore a striking resemblance to the nord Husk had hoped to see. Husk continued to stare blankly - only to find himself yanked up anyways. He didn't dare argue as the stranger stood him up, and nodded as if nothing had happened. Similar war paint smudged around the accusing eyes, though some of it was hidden behind the longer hair.

Husk stared at the stranger, uncertain of what to do. There was little chance that Vilkas's twin was out in the middle of nowhere, he decided. But the stranger had helped him, saved him really. Even helped him stand.

Maybe he wasn't a threat.

The warrior stared back at him, his face calm and undisturbed by the killing they had just done. Without warning the nord dropped unceremoniously. The armor clattered as he took a rough seat by the fire. He was glaring at Husk now as his mouth pulled into a frown. He scanned the camp. When he had his fill, he looked to Husk, then nodded in a silent order to sit.

Husk didn't dare argue.

He finally found the confidence to speak as he sat, making sure to move away from the corpse. The order didn't bother him. He was thoroughly too exhausted from the stabbing to even think about complaining.

"Companion..?" Husk guessed, caution edging his tone. When the other man didn't move to correct him, Husk continued. "Thanks for the help back there."

Farkas looked back at him before giving a small smile. "It was nothing; Bandits are the easiest bastards to kill." Husk found himself agreeing with a chuckle. Both of the men seemed to relax as they shared a nod. Farkas removed the bag from his back. "But work is work."

"I fear I don't have much to pay you with." Husk looked towards the crates. "That I know of, at least."

"Nah, no need for that." Farkas shrugged as he rummaged around his rucksack. "You could repay me by telling me where my brother is."

There was a moment of hesitation. "…You're Vilkas's twin?"

Farkas nodded sharply, earning a bewildered deadpanned stare from Husk. Farkas squinted in warning.

"He left a while ago while I was sleeping and hasn't come back yet. " Husk swallowed hard as soon as the rushed explanation left his lips.

Farkas squinted before looking over once more, but nodded anyways. "Alright then, guess I'll wait here. I'm Farkas."

"Then thank you, Farkas." Husk nodded his head quickly in gratitude. "You really came at the perfect time."

Farkas huffed at him once more, either amused at his attempt to be polite or by the fact he had bothered to at all. Husk wasn't sure. Farkas pointed to Husk as he leaned forward. "And your name is…?"

Husk felt his face warm up from embarrassment."Husk, my name is Husk." He groaned inwardly. Talking really wasn't his strong point.

Farkas nodded in acknowledgment, and Husk nodded back. Vilks had said his twin was the quieter of the two, but Husk was caught off guard by just how many times they had nodded. Nervously Husk looked around the camp, hoping that the other brother would soon return.

"So, why'd my brother leave with the likes of you and not come back with his Shield-sister?" Farkas asked. His gruff voice came out like a growl.

Any courage Husk had felt while facing the bandits had vanished, faced now by the fellow werewolf. A rather large werewolf who had just decapitated someone mere minutes ago, in fact. He paused, unsure of where to start. "I have no clue where your brother is."

" Bullshit ."

"No, truly, I haven't the faintest idea. All I know is that Vilkas likes to leave. You of all people should know how he sneaks off." Farkas snorted in agreement. "As for why, again, I haven't a clue. All that I do know is that after the fight with Aela... we left to…." He trailed off as Farkas began to stand.

Husk could swear he felt his own heart stop.

"So you really did attack Aela. You admit it." Farkas stood slowly, glare growing as he came to loom fully over Husk. Husk stared back at him with wide, worried eyes.

"If you did anything to my brother I'll make you regret it," the mountain of a nord ground out. "If you didn't, you and I will be fine -But if you did I'll break every last bone in your body. Don't think I won't put a few cracks in for Aela either. Got it? "

Husk shrank down. Fighting bandits would be one thing, but fighting Vilkas's twin would only end badly for him in a number of ways. Rather deadly, bloody, head losing sort of ways.

Farkas didn't draw his sword.

Instead, just as he had before, Farkas plopped back down in front of the fire. This time however, he was grinning. The once deadly gaze had turned soft, so much so that Husk actually wondered if it was the same man from a moment ago.

Taking a hold of his rucksack, Farkas finally pulled out a bottle of mead. His smile grew. "Here. We deserve some after that fight." Farkas held it out in offering. "You killed good."

Surprised by the sudden change of the terrifyingly large man in front of him, Husk could only shake his head. Shrugging, Farkas opened it for himself. "Too bad. It woulda helped the pain, and it looks like you could use some with those cuts all over you," Farkas added. "By the way, vice idea with the Vampire thing. Scared them shitless."

"Thanks." Husk blinked, still uncertain on what all had happened. "I actually read about it once."

Farkas was about to reply when another nord burst through the foliage with a warcry. Huffing and red faced from the mad dash back to camp, Vilkas stared at the corpses.

"There you are! And here I thought this whelp did something to ya!" Farkas's face broke into a wide grin as he raised the mead in greeting. Vilkas looked back slowly to his brother, then to the bodies before finally letting his eyes fall on Husk.

Husk looked towards Farkas, to the bodies, then back to Vilkas before finally giving a nervously halfhearted.

Without another word Vilkas stashed the sword away and stood next to his brother before stealing and downing the mead.