Fredas, 16th day of Rain's Hand, 4E 203

The skies darkened as I rode in silence, my thoughts being my only company. The knot in my stomach tightened with each step we took towards Whiterun. I tried distracting myself by forming a plan for what I needed to do once we were back at Jorrvaskr. You'll let the others know about the dragon attack, swallow your pride, and go to High Hrothgar. You can deal with the Farkas issue once you sort out what you're doing about the dragons. It sounded so simple when I thought of it that way, though it was never that simple.

Somewhere in the distance, a lone wolf howled, and a chill travelled down my spine. Something felt wrong. My pace slackened, allowing Vilkas to catch up to me. He flashed me a concerned glance that I pretended not to notice. Vilkas didn't need to carry any more of my burdens than he already had. Besides, what would I tell him? I'm Harbinger of the Companions, I've encountered worse than a pack of mangy wolves, I reminded myself.

All was silent once more until a breeze rustled through the trees. The sound drew me out of my thoughts, and I brought my horse to a halt. I scanned the empty road. Nothing. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. Must be some animal running from the wolf, or the wind, I concluded. I almost laughed at my paranoia, yet the lingering malaise followed me along Skyrim's roads.

A thick cloud of fog covered the road ahead. Vilkas and I looked at each other, debating whether we should find another path, but the fog surrounded us.

"I suppose the only way is going through it," he said, grimacing.

"Suppose so. I'll cast a light spell," I said.

The magic swelled into my palm, and a small white light flickered on my fingertips, until it extinguished. My brow furrowed, and I tried again, only to have the same thing happen again. Although alteration magic was not my speciality, I knew how to cast an apprentice level spell.

"It's no use," Vilkas told me as I attempted to cast the spell again. "I don't think this is a normal fog."

A chorus of wolves howled before I answered him. The hair on my body stood on end. The sound of the hunt. I closed my eyes, the scent of blood tickling my nose. Prey. Fragments of old memories and nightmares resurfaced, blending into a blur.

"Anyaie," Vilkas called out, snapping me out of my trance.

A white stag appeared before us.

My heart lurched in my chest. This can't be happening. I should have drawn my axe or a dagger, anything. Instead, I stood frozen in fear. The beast's eyes bore into mine like two black soul gems. Familiar laughter tore through my head, making my temples throb. Did you really think I would let you forget? the stag asked.

"What do you want?" I demanded, sounding braver than I felt.

What I wanted months ago when you interfered in my hunt, the stag said.

"You have no hold on me anymore! Not over any of us!" I snapped.

So you think. The hunt begins anew, mortal. You and your pack cannot escape my grasp, and you will be no base prey. Now go forth and amuse me, as you always do.

The stag's laughter roared in my ears as it vanished, the fog disappearing along with it. The clouds were thicker and darker than they were before. All remaining traces of bravado escaped as my terror gripped at me.

"We need to get back to Jorrvaskr," I ordered.

Vilkas didn't need to be told twice. We rode towards Whiterun at breakneck speed, the sound of wolves and thunder following us as we went.

...

Turdas, 3rd day of Sun's Height, 4E 202

"It all comes down to footwork," Vilkas said, showing me the proper stance for the greatsword. "Do you see how I'm on the balls of my feet?"

"Like this?" I asked, mirroring his position.

"Like that. Try hitting the dummy."

Though Vilkas started me with the battleaxe and the warhammer, he decided it was time I tackle using a greatsword. The weapon felt foreign to me. Vilkas ordered me to stop and fix my feet before I hit the dummy. Left foot first, then right, I repeated, then struck. It wasn't a powerful blow, but it did the trick.

"Not bad. Once you get your form right, you'll be able to put your strength into it," he said.

"Excuse me, Companion," a sheepish voice called out.

Vilkas and I turned to see a young man dressed in commoner's clothes, a letter in his hands.

"I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver—your hands only. A letter from the Jarl," the courier announced.

A letter from a Jarl? I wondered, watching as the courier handed the letter to Vilkas. Vilkas nodded and thanked the lad before he scampered off. The seal wasn't that of Whiterun; all my time at The Bannered Mare was enough to remind me what the hold's emblem was. Vilkas tore open the letter, skimming its contents. He rolled his eyes.

"Is that letter troubling?" I asked.

He gave me a sharp look and read through the letter again. It was my turn to roll my eyes. Divines forbid we spoke about anything more than my training. If I had any hope of my words getting through to him after Kodlak reprimanded us, it trickled away in the month we trained together. Vilkas contented himself with training me, never broaching the issue between us. This is getting old… no, it got old a month ago, I realized.

I snatched the letter from his hands.

"Hand that back!" he demanded.

"I asked you a question," I said.

"And I gave you an answer!" he insisted, still trying to grab the letter back.

"You call that an answer? If I did the same to you, you would brood about it into next week. Wait, since I have it…" I turned away, blocking his attempts to steal the letter. "Let me see what the Jarl wants from you."

"That's confidential! Godsdamn it, new blood! Hand it back!"

"Shush. I can't read with your yammering."

Dear Companions,

I require your assistance for a delicate matter. I cannot disclose the nature of the dilemma in this letter. If you can send me one amongst your best, preferably someone who is discreet, I will reward them handsomely for their efforts.

Your service to Falkreath is invaluable.

I remain,

Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath

I frowned and handed the letter back to Vilkas, regretting my flippancy. The matter seemed serious if the Jarl wrote to the Companions asking for someone discreet. Although, I didn't see what annoyed Vilkas. The Jarl needed the Companions' help. Wasn't it their job to ensure he received help?

"Forgive me. I assumed he wanted you to clear out bandits or something," I said.

"That's what it is, knowing Siddgeir," Vilkas said, pocketing the letter. "However, it doesn't change the fact you pried into something that wasn't your business."

"Your hypocrisy hurts my brain, Companion," I said, rubbing my forehead for show.

Vilkas sighed. "Let's not do this. We were doing fine until now."

"We've become civil, but we haven't worked through our issues," I reminded him, ignoring his frown. "A month has passed. I appreciate you training me, even if it is to appease the Harbinger and..."

"Stop right there. I'm not training you to appease the Harbinger. I'm doing it because it's the right thing," he answered.

Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn't one of them. I thought I misheard, or that he was playing a cruel joke on me, but his eyes were as serious as they ever were.

"If you are going to be my shield-sister one day, and that is a huge 'if,' you will need all the training you can get. I was a prideful fool denying you training. I'm sorry."

Vilkas stunned me into silence. I didn't delude myself into thinking he listened to me; even if he did, he would never admit to it. At least he took Kodlak and Tilma's words to heart. An apology for not training was a start.

Don't stand there like an idiot. Say something.

"Apology accepted. It doesn't change that we haven't discussed the matter," I warned. I needed to stay firm in my stance; one right step didn't compensate for all of our issues.

"You're right," he admitted, almost as if it pained him. "We'll discuss the matter when I come back from Falkreath tomorrow."

"You?" I asked, knitting my brows. "Farkas told me there's a scholar coming this evening that you wanted to talk to. Won't you miss him if you go?"

"Siddgeir is a complicated character. It's not like I can wait for Skjor or Aela to come back so they can deal with it. The Jarl is an impatient man-child who expects someone right away. I can't send Farkas either. He's too honest to deal with Siddgeir."

That gave me an idea. I took no jobs that week, deciding it was best to stay at Jorrvaskr and focus on Kodlak's potions. Despite passing through Falkreath on my travels, I never had an excuse to stay there for any prolonged period. This was an exception—the job was for the Jarl himself. If I could do this, I could prove myself worthy of being a Companion. At the very least, it would pay well. It might come in handy.

"Send me," I suggested.

Vilkas scoffed at this. "Look new blood, your verve is nice, but you're not even a Companion."

"Siddgeir doesn't need to know that. He wanted someone discreet, yes? I can do that. I'm also a Thane of Whiterun, which means I have status. Don't give me that look. I don't like using my title anymore than I enjoy gargling barnacles, but if it helps mentioning it, I'll do it."

Vilkas pondered this and pulled out the letter again. He was torn between sending me and going himself. Dealings with Jarls were delicate matters. I counted myself lucky that Jarl Balgruuf was a reasonable man. If Siddgeir was as obnoxious as Vilkas made him out to be, the Companions needed someone able to handle him. If I haven't strangled Vilkas, Jarl Siddgeir can't be so bad.

"It just might work," Vilkas said, giving me the letter. "If he catches wind you're Dragonborn, don't deny it. The Jarl is important, but he likes to feel important too. If he finds out we've sent him a thane who happens to be the Dragonborn, he'll be more generous with payment."

"That suits me fine. If you don't mind ending my training earlier, I'll pack what I need so I can head out by this afternoon. Before I do, I want to see the Harbinger."

"Of course. Don't delay too long, though. Report back to me when you're done."

I nodded and went to the whelp's quarters to pick up the vials I created the night before. Over the last month, Arcadia and I spent our time researching elixirs to soothe Kodlak's pain. With the old man's blessing, I was also testing ingredients that slowed down the progression of the disease. Arcadia told me there were rumours of daedra hearts to accomplish that, and they were more effective if they were mixed with hawk feathers. It was no mean feat; daedra hearts were scarce. She had a contact willing to sell her one. The only caveat was that it was costly. If I succeeded at the Jarl's job, I would cover the first one. Perhaps we could arrange a deal with her seller if I had enough gold.

I walked into the Kodlak's quarters, finding him eating one of Tilma's stews with Farkas as company. I smiled at both of them. At least one person took my advice on something. One of my terms for assisting Kodlak was that he had to keep himself in good health. That meant no skipping meals and getting a good amount of sleep instead of reading books. Farkas was good at ensuring the old man did the former.

"Ah. It's good to see you, my girl. You have the potions ready?" he asked.

"I do," I said, laying the vials of amber liquid for him and Farkas to see. "There are fifteen vials here. I merged the two ingredients that seemed to work best on you; blisterwort and the ash hopper, along with a couple of other soothing herbs. Start with half every second day, only in the evening. It should be enough to last you two months. We can always rearrange the dose as you need."

"What are the side effects?" he asked.

"Drowsiness and some nausea. If you take more than half, you may also be prone to having nightmares."

"I understand. You're sure this will work?" Kodlak asked, examining a vial as Farkas did too. Unlike the Harbinger, Farkas appeared disturbed, knitting his brows as he looked at the potion.

"There is a good chance that it will be effective. If it doesn't, we'll try something else."

"But then you will have wasted your coin. Allow me to compensate you for your efforts."

The old man's concern touched me, but he needn't have to worry about that. I laid a hand on his shoulder. "No, I insist. There is no cost on health. Now listen, I've taken a last-minute job. If you want me to stay…"

"Don't trouble yourself," Kodlak interrupted, giving me a reassuring smile. "If there is something wrong with the potion, I'll stop taking it."

"More than that," I turned to Farkas. "If something is wrong, find me in Falkreath. I'll drop whatever I'm doing and I will come back. Do not hesitate, are we clear?"

"It won't be necessary," Kodlak insisted while Farkas nodded. "Focus on your job in Falkreath. Tell me about it upon your return."

"I will. Farkas, I'll see you when I…"

"Let me help you pack for Falkreath," he said.

I thought it was a strange offer, but I nodded, and he followed me out of Kodlak's chambers.

"How's the other potion going?" Farkas asked as soon as we were in my room. "I mean, the one to slow down the rot."

"I'm looking into it," I answered, searching through my trunk for the relevant supplies. Some fortify health potions, some stamina ones, and, lo! A restore magicka one too. Aela said those traders appreciated my work with the wolf pelts last month. She mentioned they might be looking for more soon. Falkreath is good for hunting, so I'll bring my bow with me in case. It'll be good to have some extra for next time.

"There's an ingredient I'm looking for that might help him. If I can get my hands on it, we can give it a go and…" I turned to see Farkas. He wasn't helping me; instead, he was sitting on my bed, as if he was shrinking into himself.

"What's going on?" I asked, putting my supplies aside and taking a seat next to him.

"What? Nothing," he lied, and I glared at him. "Well. Something. This thing with Kodlak… it sucks. It's just… it doesn't seem fair."

It wasn't fair, not when most people took a potion that cured them instantly. But, some cases of the rot were complex. They resisted curative potions, and they worsened over time, killing the person bit by bit every day. What happened in Kodlak's quarters came back to me, and my throat tightened at the memory.

"It isn't," I sighed, putting a hand on his knee. My words felt so inadequate, so meaningless, but I could think of no others. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"You're doing a lot for him, and it means a lot. I see you putting in this work. It…it doesn't stop me from thinking and wondering… well.. how long does he have left?" he asked. His eyes searched mine for answers I didn't have.

"I'm not sure. All we can do for him is make sure that his last days are as painless as they can be. I'll do that for him," I promised, squeezing his knee. "All you can do is stay strong for him, and for you."

"I'm trying, but I don't know what else I can do."

His helplessness made him sound so defeated. Farkas was a man who could face down a giant without hesitation. He always wore his radiant smile, never hesitating to bring a smile onto my face. But now, he looked so sad and small. It pained me. The Divines weren't fair. It hurt seeing it from a healer's perspective. It stung more knowing that Kodlak didn't deserve it. I couldn't imagine how it tore at Farkas, feeling so powerless while having to be strong.

I could give Kodlak all the potions I wanted to improve his quality of life, but I didn't know what to do for Farkas. Both my parents told me it was better to remain honest during healing, so I wouldn't give him false hope to soothe his worries. There was nothing I could say to reassure him, and I didn't want to pretend there was. The urge to pull him into a hug was stronger than me, and my arms wrapped around him. I felt his body tense in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll…" I was about to pull away, but Farkas pulled me in tighter.

He needs this, I realized. How many burdens does he carry on his shoulders without anyone realizing it? I held Farkas, running my hand up and down his back, trying to comfort him. I felt just as helpless holding him, unable to do anything more for him.

"Sorry," Farkas said while pulling away, a small blush tingeing his cheeks. "Seeing all those potions, it got to me."

"Don't apologize," I said, taking his hand in mine. "I've never lost a loved one from illness, though I've seen plenty of others go through it. You care about Kodlak. It's normal it gets to you."

"I can't let it. Vilkas doesn't say much, but it eats at him. And the others…" he trailed off.

"What about the others?" I asked.

"I need to be okay for the others. I've put them through too much to not be okay. It's not fair to them," he whispered.

My eyes narrowed in confusion. I didn't understand what one thing had to do with the other. People react to illness in different ways, my father once said during my training. But there is always anger somewhere. Some get angry with the Divines, others at everyone around them, and some at themselves, or any combination of the three.

Farkas sighed and rubbed his face."I'm sorry. It's a lot to dump on you," he said, his gaze not meeting mine.

I tilted his face up, forcing him to look at me. "No. You're the one who told me I needed to talk about my feelings. So do you. You're not responsible for everyone. I'll be here for you the way you were for me."

"You're a good friend. That means something."

I smiled at him. "You're a good friend to me, Farkas. If Kodlak's potions are overwhelming to you or you're worried, I can stay behind and take care of it myself."

"No," he said, taking both of my hands in his. "You're doing enough for all of us. I've held you up long enough. Go out there. Make us proud."

"I plan on," I answered, unable to resist adding, "I'm meeting my fellow Jarl. The Jarl of Cheese Valley has to appear in court every once in a while."

A small smile spread on Farkas' face as he exclaimed, "You remember? I thought you were way drunker than that."

I flashed him a sly grin. "Oh, I remember a lot of what happens when we get drunk, including someone's fifteen minute speech on why cheese is good."

"Cheese is good. And we don't have enough of it in Jorrvaskr."

I laughed despite the tension. No man could ever sound so genuine as Farkas did about his love of cheese. He rewarded me with a beaming grin. There were hard times ahead of both of us, but those small moments of laughter were invaluable.

...

The Jarl of Falkreath sat upon his throne, tapping his fingers in annoyance. Next to him was an Altmer woman, whose curious golden eyes fell upon me as I approached the jarl.

"Yes? What is it that you want?" he asked.

The arrogance in his voice was enough to raise my hackles. My temper wanted to flare and tell the Jarl where to stick his summons. If the matter was so pressing like he claimed it was, why was he leaning back on his throne with no care in the world? Be polite, I repeated over and over again. No matter how obnoxious, he's still a Jarl and you need the gold for Kodlak.

"I am the Companion you sent for, my Jarl," I answered, kneeling to him.

He cocked his head. "Interesting. I've never seen you before. What is your name?"

"Anyaie Sylanitte. I've been training with the Companions for a few months." I then added, not without a hint of reluctance. "I'm a Thane of Whiterun."

Siddgeir grinned as if he won a prize as I stifled a curse. I already predicted where this conversation was heading, and I didn't like it. Why wasn't joining the Companions enough?

"Ah yes. I'm acquainted with Jarl Balgruuf. It took a while to worm information about the new Thane to his court. He didn't say much, only that you provided him a great service. However, rumor has it you slayed a dragon."

Still heeding Vilkas' advice, and knowing I would regret it, I said, "I did, my Jarl."

"So, there may be truth in you being Dragonborn. I'd like to hear your shout."

"My Jarl, if this woman is who you think, you can't ask her to shout," the High Elf said.

Good woman, I thought, nodding at her words. You figured out that I'll toss him across the room and spend the rest of my life in Falkreath's jail.

"And why not, Nenya?" Siddgeir asked, pouting like a boy whose mom ruined his fun.

"You recall what happened between Ulfric and Torygg," she answered, exasperated.

I came to her aid. "Your steward is right, my Jarl. I would much prefer using my Thu'um on your enemies."

"Hmm. Very well. Don't use it here. We don't want you ruining the décor. At least those bandits won't guess what's coming for them," Siddgeir said, a satisfied smirk on his face. Nenya shot me a grateful look, and I returned a small smile.

"How can I assist you, my Jarl?" I asked.

"I'm glad you asked. There's a group of bandits in my Hold that I... may have had a few discreet dealings with. The cut they were giving me was good at first, but now it's time to clean things up. Nenya will give you their coordinates. Go and take care of it."

"As you command," I answered through gritted teeth, but I knelt again. You keep up your face of respect as best you can. When you get Kodlak that daedra heart, it'll be worth it.

The Jarl went off to do whatever arrogant assholes do, leaving Nenya to mark the location on my map. The steward let out a sigh and pointed to the location, which wasn't too far off from the hold itself. I frowned, looking at her, not envying her; the Jarl's haughtiness was enough to put me off within moments. Dealing with that petulance daily was a tall order, not to mention the carelessness and greed that came with such underhanded dealings.

"Thank you for coming, Companion. We appreciate your aid at such short notice," Nenya said as I rolled up my map.

"I know you do, Nenya," I said, offering her a kind smile. "I'll be swift. Hopefully it makes both of our lives easier."

She had her work cut out for her, and I did too.

I made it back to Falkreath that evening, the vestiges of dusk giving way to the night sky. The streets were empty, hanging over me like the thick fog that clung onto the city. The haziness made the town appear like something out of a dream. More like nightmarish, I observed, looking at the sprawling graveyard before me.

A woman wailed somewhere in the distance, her sobs piercing through the disquietude that greeted me earlier. I stopped, searching for the noise. Upon further investigation, I noticed a woman weeping near a small grave, her husband next to her. She must have lost a child. My heart broke for her. I wanted to console her, but I wasn't sure what to say, so I moved on, continuing towards the Jarl.

I entered Siddgeir's longhouse, finding him sipping from a goblet of wine.

"Well? Has it been done?" Siddgeir asked.

"It has, my Jarl," I answered.

"Excellent," he said, putting his goblet of wine aside and turning his attention to me. Siddgeir looked at me as though I were a new plaything, his eyes running up and down my body, pondering what he could do with me next. The alarms sounded at the back of my mind, warning me to proceed with caution.

"Is there something else you require of me?" I asked.

"Hmm… I like you," he said, the compliment making the hairs on my neck raise. "You're not afraid to get your hands dirty, and you don't feel the need to wax sanctimonious. Perhaps there is one more thing you can do for me."

"Name it,"I said with trepidation.

"A manbeast murdered a little girl last night. The shifter escaped our grasp and fled into the woods. I've sent my men to capture him with no luck. Her parents are demanding retribution."

My mind conjured the image of a small body torn into shreds. The woman's cries rang in my ears, a hard lump forming in my throat. I shouldn't have ignored her. If someone dared put a hand on my girls, I would destroy them. Siddgeir didn't care about justice, but I did. No parent deserved to suffer such a terrible loss. That child lost her life because one of Hircine's children made it more horrific.

"I'll do it," I said.

He grinned. "Excellent. I'll double your gold and grant you the title of Thane as soon as you return."

"That's unnecessary, my Jarl."

"Oh, it will be. That woman's hysterics soured my mood. Thankfully, this wine is enough to make up for it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get some rest. Come find me in the morning when you've taken care of it."

He walked into his chambers, leaving me to seethe at his self-absorption. He disgusted me. What sort of human being looked at a grieving mother and cared more about himself? It burned me up, and I wasn't interested in becoming a Thane for such a dishonorable man who didn't bother fighting his own battles. I wasn't doing this for him. Those parents deserved closure.

Nenya saw my mood sour and offered a sympathetic nod.

"Forgive him, Companion. He doesn't understand others' pain. It's like it's beyond him," she said.

"Maybe someone should spank him to teach him a lesson. Ah, never mind. I bet he'd enjoy that too much," I joked.

Nenya blushed and my eyes widened. Does she… no… An image of Nenya with a paddle came to mind.

"You don't… no wait… don't tell me…" I cleared my throat, trying to get the visual out of my head with little success. "Have there been any reports about the shifter?"

"Ah yes. There has been. Hand me your map," she croaked.

I didn't ask anything else, wishing there was a way to wipe the visual of the Jarl getting paddled out of my head forever."

...

Nenya's directions pointed me to a small clearing where some guards told me they spotted the shifter, but he escaped their grip. They explained the man, Sinding, was exhausted when they found him, and he transformed to fend off their attack. He used whatever remaining strength he had for his transformation, so he was resting. "Look for a haggard man with blonde hair," they said, and wished me luck on my path.

I didn't know much about Hircine's children. A few people came to my father, claiming they had the blood. Since there was no way of curing it, my father offered little advice apart from, "Control the beast." I watched as so many disappointed faces left our home, only to have my father telling me that the blood stripped people of their humanity. It was beyond his capabilities. I questioned how callous his words were. Who could kill an innocent girl?

As I continued along the woods, I came across a small makeshift campsite. There was no fire or tent, just a bedroll with some food. A man with wiry blonde hair laid on the bedroll, groaning, as if he were in the middle of a nightmare. This has to be him.

His eyes fluttered open as I held the blade to his neck.

"Wh-what's going on?" he asked.

"Don't move and don't change," I ordered.

"What are you…"

"I know who you are and what you did to the little girl."

The man's eyes clouded over with regret. "Believe me, it wasn't anything I ever intended to do. Please. Give me a chance to…"

"Did you give that girl a chance, monster?" I hissed, the blade nicking at his skin. The blood trickled down his neck.

"I didn't mean to! It's this ring! This blasted ring! S-see," he stammered, fumbling into his pocket and fishing out the object in question. "H-hear me out."

I would never suspect this man was violent, but then, not all monsters looked like draugr or atronachs. Sinding stared at me wide-eyed, trembling. He wasn't the cruel monster I expected, and thoughts of killing him wavered. If I am going to end his life, I'll be fair and give him a chance to explain himself.

"You have two minutes. Two. Convince me, shifter. Why should I let you live?" I asked, keeping the blade at his neck.

He held the ring up for me to see, the silver wolf on the ring glimmering underneath the moons. "This is the Ring of Hircine. Someone told me it could help me control my transformations. Maybe it did, but I'll never know. Hircine didn't care for my taking it and threw a curse on it. I put it on… and the changes just came to me. It would happen when I least expected it, and at the worst times, like… with the little girl."

He looked away in shame. I didn't let that stop me from asking my questions.

"And the guards? Why did you attack them?" I prodded, pressing the blade against his neck.

"The blood. It… it acts on its own accord. When I'm under threat, it flares up. I... I don't always think it has a reason though."

"And the little girl?"

"I… I don't know," he confessed. "I had just come into Falkreath. They needed help with work at the mill. I thought it would be something safe—something I could do. When I saw the little girl, I was just… I could feel it coming on. I could taste the… I needed to hunt. But this pitiful, limited body wasn't meant for hunting. It's slow. No claws. Weak, mashing teeth for chewing cud. I held in my rage as long as I could. But it boiled inside of me. She looked so fragile. Helpless prey. And then… then…"

Sinding's body shook, and a sob escaped his lips. His confession should have made my task easier. His death would please the girl's parents and right the wrongs he did by Hircine. If someone hurt my children, I would take vengeance without hesitating, yet my arm didn't move as I watched this manbeast's regret consume him.

"I don't deserve it but… but I want a chance to make this right," he said, the tears streaming down his face. "P-please. Hasn't anyone ever done the same for you?"

My prayer at Helgen came back to me, and I put my blade down. I couldn't inflict upon him the same fate I avoided months ago. I stepped back, waiting for an attack, but he did nothing. Instead, there was genuine gratitude on his face.

"How do you propose making this right?" I asked.

"I've been looking for a way to appease Hircine. There is a certain beast in these lands. A large, majestic stag. It's said that Hircine will commune with whoever slays it. I tracked it into these woods, but then had my… accident with the child. I want to beg his forgiveness. Give him back the ring. I just… I don't think he'd accept it from me," he answered.

That's when I spoke the words that damned me. "I'll take the ring to Hircine."

Sinding's harrowed face lit up. "You want to do this for me? Why?"

"I made a promise to the Divines that if they spared my life, I'd do right by others. That means you too, shifter. There's one condition—make yourself scarce. If I find out you've terrorized anyone else after tonight, I won't spare you again."

Sinding stood up and clutched my hand. "I promise I'll honor our agreement. Here. Take it," he said, pressing the ring into my palm. "I want nothing to do with this wretched thing. Seek the beast. He wanders these woods. Defeat him down and… well, the Lord of the Hunt should smile on you."

I nodded, and pocketed the ring.

"Good luck, huntress. Should our paths cross again, I will remember your kindness. Farewell, "he said, gathering his limited supplies and vanished into the woods. I prayed I made the right decision.

The two moons of Masser and Secunda shone their crimson light—Hircine's Bloodmoon. A strange tension crackled in the air. It wasn't unlike the thrill of battle, yet there was something different, somehow more alive. The stag roamed around the woods, waiting for a worthy hunter. Worthy or not, I promised to help Sinding. I reached for my bow, feeling the usual electric charge run through my body.

And so, the hunt began.

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! Thought this update was Halloween appropriate. If you want to know where the joke about Jarl Siddgeir getting paddled comes from and you don't mind some E(explicit) rated stuff, I link the wonderful PoeticAnt44's work from AO3 here: /works/25890370/chapters/66303403. Huge credit goes to her for always reviewing my chapters/helping me out.

Also, I've had to re-upload because I think there was an issue. If you've gotten a notification twice, I apologize.