Here we are again

Same as always, see you in two weeks. Unless I get busy, then wait a little longer.

Hope you like it!

Unleashed

"Something's wrong." Aela kneeled down to feel the snow-covered ashes as we approached the campfire. "This is where we're supposed to meet up with Skjor."

A fresh layer of snow covered the surrounding area as I looked around, searching for any traces or hints of Skjor, only to find none. Aela rose from the campfire and searched the air with her nose, almost like a dog.

"You smell that?" She asked.

I glance at her from the corner of my eyes. Cautiously, I mimicked her behavior and smelt the air. I knew my sense of smell had been enhanced, along with my other senses, but smelling the air like an animal, I couldn't help but feel silly to the point of ridiculous. But I did smell it. It was faint, but the cold air entering my nostrils definitely carried the scent of blood.

Following the scent, I slowly walked around the open area, like a dog tracking prey. It was faint, yet there. Had I not been sniffing the air like an animal I would easily have missed it, enhanced senses or not. Whereas the scent was strongest, I stopped in my tracks. With my foot, I uncovered the snow beneath me, the scent instantly intensified as red blood and yellow plasma showed itself from beneath. Staring at the blood, I got an unsettled feeling that more of it was hiding beneath the snow around us. I turned towards Aela. The concern in my eyes made her aware of my discovery.

"That's not Skjor's blood," she said reassuringly. "By the scent, I don't know whose it is. Surely a Silver Hand."

"You can tell?" I asked surprised.

"You can't?"

Looking down at the dark-colored snow, I gave it a few whiffs. Smells like blood to me. No different than any other. Was Aela really suggesting she could differentiate whose blood it was by smell alone? And from all the way over there?

"No."

A brief look before she spoke. "That's what I meant by ¨your strength is your own¨. Enhanced senses might give you an edge. But if you don't train them like any other skill, you might as well be without them."

I realized it made sense as I contemplated the meaning behind her words. It wasn't as if my turning had instantly made me stronger… well, it partially did. But my training had still proven effective in my improvement, reflexes and muscle mass increased by training more so than from my turning alone. And I still noted from time to time how my hearing and eyesight improved over time as I focused on using them. Even now I still have much to learn, no matter how much stronger I felt from before.

"It's the lack of bodies that worry me…" Aela interrupted my thoughts. "If Skjor defeated them, he wouldn't have disposed of the bodies. And he would still be waiting for us, or at least left a hint to another location. No… something went wrong."

"You think they got him?"

"The Silver Hand kill us on sight…" Aela rarely showed emotions of a sentimental nature, yet if I didn't know better I'd say she looked worried as she stood with her right hand on her shoulder and eyes searching the ground: thoughtful, yet distant. "But I don't smell Skjor's blood… He couldn't have…"

"We could see where they took the bodies," I offered, as her thoughts seemed to have drifted off into her mind. "Only lead we got."

Aela gave me a look and inhaled deeply through her mouth, as if to speak, only to exhale as she took her hand off her shoulder and reached for the bow on her back. "Let's."

"What did I say about speaking to the prisoner?!" A harsh voice interrupted their discussion.

Startled by the voice, the boy jerked away from the bars and turned towards the incoming man, hands to his sides and straight back. Not unlike a nervous recruit: given the order of ¨attention.¨

"I… I was only curious…"

"You don't speak with the prisoner!"

Unaffected by their interruption, Skjor turned his head to take a look at the approaching man, not surprised as to who it was as Skjor had already recognized the voice of the group leader from his ambush.

Skjor's eye was instantly faced with hate as the man appeared before his cell, full steel armor and all. The pleasing grin he had worn when they surrounded Skjor earlier had long since turned to a flat line of serious hate towards the man who single-handedly and seemingly effortlessly had defeated, no, executed most of his men before his very eyes.

"How's your head?" The leader asked. He clearly didn't expect an answer as the question was meant to remind Skjor of the pounding headache that would be the result of the concussion his men had given him.

"How are your men?"

The leader clenched his jaw and sharpened his eyes towards Skjor. The returning insult did little but deepen his personal hatred. The leader slowly leaned closer to the bars, his eyes filled with hate as they cut at Skjor who returned the glare with indifference. "It'll all be worth it once Krev gets her hands on you."

"Can't wait to meet her."

"Oh, forgive me. Allow me to specify," the leader said with sarcasm in his voice. "It's not you she wants to meet. It's your wolf…"

¨Your wolf.¨ The ¨Skinner.¨ The puzzle-pieces began to connect as Skjor placed them in his mind. That was the reason for her nickname, was it not? It wasn't Skjor she wanted, it was his pelt.

Werewolves were rare, seldom appearing beyond once a full moon, so their pelts were highly valued and even said to hold magical properties. Some even believed wearing them as clothing brought forth Hircine's favor on the wearer, for slaying one of his proudest creations. Not to mention the dangers of hunting werewolves. For who but the Silver Hand would willingly hunt such fierce predators when the very rumors of one so often birthed terror in people's hearts.

Skjor felt a slight irritation with himself for not connecting the dots earlier, it all made sense, but he quickly blamed his lack of focus on his pounding head. It explained why they needed him alive. It also explained why they had locked him up, rather than taking him to Krev the moment they caught him.

They were waiting for Secunda to turn full. They wanted him to turn.

That meant Skjor had time, for Secunda wouldn't be full for at least two weeks. A thought instantly disrupted, as Skjor was reminded of Aela and the new-blood. They were still out there, surely coming to his rescue. Knowing Aela as well as he did, Skjor knew she would attack the Silver Hand even if she thought him dead. Especially if she thought him dead. If Skjor could attack from the inside it would greatly improve the chances for Aela and the new-blood.

But Sjor didn't need to be told to recognize there was little he could do from behind bars. Barely able to stand, for his knee and dizziness alike, there was little he could do even if he did get out. But he needed to get out. For there was but one advantage Skjor still had, one the Silver Hand was clearly unaware of. For a wolf that could turn by will alone was rare. Even amongst wolves. To Skjor's knowledge there was no more than a handful with the ability in all of Skyrim, and all of them, Companions.

And Skjor? Skjor could turn by will… All he had to do was let go of the ¨leash¨ he so long ago had tightened around his wolf's neck. The leash he only had to release to command his wolf to attack. The transformation would greatly accelerate his already enhanced healing, ridding him of his injuries and the concussion that dulled his senses. His wolf might not even suffer his injured knee. Still, transforming inside the cell would be of no use. And it would also take far too many seconds for the transformation to complete without the leader killing him first. He needed an opening. But first, he needed to get out of his cell.

"Get back to the kitchen, boy!" The leader said as he insultingly slapped the boy over his head. "You were ordered to bring him some food."

Skjor gave the man a look. The Silver Hand clearly didn't share the type of bond the Companions practiced. Silver Hand or not Skjor almost felt sorry for the boy, although not something he would openly admit.

"You're going to feed me?"

The leader sharpened his eyes into Skjor's, as if insulted by his question, as the boy scurried off down the corridor.

"Oh believe me… If it was up to me? You'd starve." His voice emitting loathing hatred as he spoke. "But I know a starving wolf is more dangerous than a full one. And I don't go against Krev's orders. I've seen what happens to those who do."

"It's a long time until the full moon. They'll come for me you know." Skjor wouldn't give out information aiding the Silver Hand. But he needed time, and as long as the possibility for conversation was on the table, he'd use it in his favor. He knew his chances were infinitely better with someone on the other side of the bars than none.

"Oh we know. In fact, we're counting on it!"

His jaw hardened as Skjor's suspicions were confirmed by that statement. The boy might believe Skjor came alone, but the leader knew better. Now Skjor knew he needed to act. To get out of the cell and buy time. Aela and the new-blood were walking into a trap.

"You won't stop until we're all dead?"

"Damn right."

"I'll talk."

"What?" Suspicion surfaced in his eyes.

"Let me talk to Krev."

The leader laughed as he turned down the corridor. An ominous laugh of sarcasm, as if he had heard the best joke of his life... or the worst.

"I told you, Krev doesn't give a crap about you! It's your wolf she wants!"

"There's a hidden passage," Skjor said as the leader disappeared from his imprisoned sight. The sound of the leader's footsteps stopped, followed by silence. When he didn't answer Skjor decided to continue. "Leads right into Jorrvaskr ground. Beneath the Skyforge. You'll be in and out before the city guards even know you've entered the city."

Still, there was no sound. Skjor clenched his hands around the cold bars, patiently awaiting a reaction. Skjor's patience was rewarded as the sound of footsteps once again begun to sound. This time towards his cell, rather than away from it.

"Why?" The leader asked as he came back into view. His eyes as suspicious as ever.

"Promise to spare the red-haired woman and I'll talk."

A moment of suspense as the leader studied Skjor with his suspicious eyes, crossing his arms. "Love, is it? Didn't think you creatures were capable of that… Talk."

"I'll only talk to Krev."

"You'll talk to me."

"I don't trust you to give promises on her behalf."

"And why should I trust you?" Disgust rose in his voice at the last word.

Skjor leaned away from the bars and gestured towards his leg, one hand still holding a bar.

"Look at me… My vision's still blurred and I can barely stand as I am. What threat could I possibly be?"

The leader breathed heavily in distrust as he again studied the wounded Skjor. "A secret entrance, huh?"

"That's right…"

The leader let out a sigh as he reluctantly reached for the key-chain by his belt. "You better not try anything funny."

Keeping eye contact, Skjor stepped back, taking support from the wall as he moved away from the bars. The leader had one hand on his sword hilt as he placed the key in the lock and worked it with a rustic 'click' before opening the cell door.

"Get out," the leader said sternly, gesturing with a nod for Skjor to move.

Skjor didn't hesitate as the door was open. Using the wall next to him as support, Skjor went towards the cell door, trying his best not to limp any more than his stubborn pride would allow. The leader watched carefully as Skjor entered the corridor and came to a stop.

"Right this way," he said as he gestured down the corridor, the opposite way he had sent the boy.

Skjor gave him a look as he stepped forward, forced to pass the man to continue. Without support, walking became increasingly harder for him as he limped by the man.

Skjor had barely passed the leader before he delivered a surprise punch to Skjor's stomach. The air left Skjor's lungs as he fell to his knees. He was barely able to regain his breath before a kick to his side sent him to the stone floor, followed up by yet another kick to his stomach. Skjor grunted between his coughs, clenching his stomach in defense.

"That's for my men!" The leader shouted as he stood over the pained Skjor, hostile and enraged. "Get up!"

Skjor clenched his teeth in withheld anger, as he slowly managed to pull himself up to his knees. Breathing heavily, he composed himself next to the leader. Skjor glanced at the dagger on the leaders' belt, as he knelt beside him. It was within his reach. But no. Skjor knew the leader would be faster if he did decide to go for the dagger. He'd deliver a knee to his face the moment Skjor would move. Skjor needed an opening before he could make a move. He needed to find some way to lower the leader's guard.

"I said, "Get up!""

"I… need help to stand," Skjor spoke reluctantly between clenched teeth as he gave the leader a stern look. For Skjor, there was more than a hint of humiliation in his request.

Skjor had always been far too prideful to ever request help from others, especially for something as simple as standing on his own two legs. But at the same time, Skjor had seen far too many opponents fall before him because of their stubborn pride not to recognize it as a possible weakness in himself. And because of that, Skjor would easily throw his pride aside if it meant his own survival.

The leader thought even less of Skjor than he had before, as he spat toward the kneeling warrior in both anger and insult. But he wouldn't allow the current show of weakness to make him forget how Skjor had easily killed off his men. Yet, with a now growing grin, he clearly enjoyed the situation and had a strong feeling of superiority at their now reversed powerplay.

"And you call yourself a warrior. Disgusting," he said as he reached down for Skjor's arm and pulled him from the floor. The leader clearly disgusted having to help such a now weak-looking creature. His emotions clearly showed on his face as he steadied Skjor's arm over his neck and placed his other hand around Skjor's back to support him.

Skjor's mask-of-seriousness had returned as he balanced himself against the leader, clenching his hurting abdomen with his left arm.

"Let's go then," the leader said as he tugged at Skjor to move, his head facing forward down the corridor.

The leader seemed to avoid eye contact altogether as they began stumbling forward. Perhaps the close proximity of the two brought him a sense of discomfort, or perhaps he had his own reasons not wanting to face Skjor. Either way, his eyes were facing forward.

"Can't wait for..."

His sentence was interrupted by a sudden gurgle as his dagger plunged upwards through his jaw and into his head. Seeing an opening, Skjor had, in a fluid motion, reached for the leader's dagger with his left hand and turned it against its owner. The leader had never even seen it coming before it so abruptly took his life.

His body instantly turned limp as his brain shut down and collapsed to the floor like a sack of potatoes. With a grunt, Skjor followed behind as his support left him, landing on top of the leader. Skjor's knee once again screamed in revolt at the brief moment he had tried to keep himself upright.

Skjor quickly pulled himself up to his knees, regaining his breath as he kneeled beside the body. The dagger was still deeply embedded in his skull, leaving no room for blood to spill. Finally, Skjor was alone and free of his cell. Skjor clumsily reached for the wall and worked himself up to a stand. Now all that was left for him to do was-

Clang. The sound echoed against the walls as the metal plate fell to the floor, spilling food as it went.

Skjor briefly closed his eyes in increasing annoyance, cursing the timing of it all as his moment of victory turned sour, before he opened them again and turned his head towards the source. It was the boy.

The boy was barely breathing as his wide eyes locked on the dead leader by the floor. By his expression alone, one could believe it was his first time seeing a dead body. His mouth was slightly open as he turned his eyes on Skjor, still leaning heavily against the wall.

He seemed frightened as he met Skjor's eye, like a young deer frozen in fright before a wolf. But Skjor had no way of knowing how he would react. Boy or not, Skjor was in no position to manage a real fight. Right now, even the boy was a bigger threat than Skjor could handle. Yet Skjor knew there was no way he could avoid a confrontation now. The brief moment of time he had bought had just as quickly slipped away and left him, only managing to take him out of his cell. But that was more than enough as Skjor decided to act, rather than let the boy move first.

A grin grew on Skjor's face as he finally let go of his mental leash. It was now or never. And as quickly as Skjor's thoughts had decided, he felt his wolf awaken within him. Clawing for its finally released control, in the back of Skjor's mind. Only growing stronger. Skjor was long since used to the pain that followed. In fact, a part deep within him had come to enjoy it. Welcome it. As his muscles began to twitch, his shoulder dislocated violently with a pop and he lost grip on the wall, once again falling to his knees.

The boy twitched at Skjor's sudden movement, not knowing what to do, but when Skjor lifted his head and glared towards him with that wolfish grin, he froze again. That one yellow-burning eye seemed to burn right through him as primal fear rose within his chest. That eye did not belong to a human.

"Run, boy," Skjor growled with a pained yet bone-chilling voice. His eye burned with intent as both his shoulders began twisting in an inhuman way, followed with horrid sounds of bones bending and skin tearing. With a sudden loud crack, Skjor's spine bent in an obviously painful way. That unfroze the boy, who didn't need to be told twice as control over his legs seemed to return to him.

Nothing but fear guided the boy as he turned for escape in a panic. The horrid sounds echoed behind him as he raced towards the stairs, hands grabbing air as if it would somehow aid his escape. The grunts of pain behind him turned to bestial growls as he climbed the stairs in desperation and panic, nearly tripping on every step. Reason had left him and fear ruled over his movement. The kitchen was so close. But even then he would have a long way to the outside. Too afraid to even scream, he toppled over the top stairs as the deep growls behind him rose into a graveled howl, a roar of rage, as the wolf behind him had at last rid himself of his torturous leash.

It was finally free.