Here we go again.

Turned out a bit longer than intended, but I don't feel like that's a bad thing.
As before, I'll try and get the next one out in two weeks from now.

I hope you all will like this one.
Enjoy!

Werewolf

Aela suddenly lifted her hand, followed by a palm-moving-down gesture, indicating I should stop and get down.

I knew she was well above a good tracker, but because of the fresh snow covering their tracks, I never thought she'd find something this quickly. I most certainly hadn't, even though I grew up hunting. I suppose she had a keener eye for it than I. And an even keener nose.

I reached for my great axe as I knelt down behind her, slowly creeping to her side as she carefully tilted her head left and right. Focusing her hearing.

"Someone's chopping wood," she said as I took a knee next to her. I noticed the sound earlier, but for some reason hadn't given it much thought, at least not enough to connect it to wood chopping. But now that I listened closer, the sound was far too regular to be anything but. "You smell that?"

Again with the smelling?

Axe in hand I rested its handle on my knee as I again focused on sniffing the air. Slow and deep breaths through my nose as I searched for whatever whiff of scent she hinted at.

Cold air, the forest, wood, snow… green? And something else.

It didn't feel as ridiculous as last time, especially not… I found it. Again, a faint scent, not something I would have noticed had I not been searching for it.

Smoke from a campfire.

I really should learn to use my enhanced sense of smell and hearing more, more so than my eyes, for they seemed to notice things far better. "I do… Upwind," I said as I turned my head towards Aela. Who seemed to assess me while she waited for me to notice, rather than to simply wait for me to notice.

"Lead the way," she said as she nodded in the direction of the sound, and smell. "And try to keep low."

"I don't think sneaking in heavy armor is…"

"We're not sneaking," she interrupted. Visually insulted by the word she frowned. "We're hunting."

Well, of course not. Companions didn't sneak. For there was no honor in it. ¨Leave whispers and sneaking to the gutter rats who can't fight for themselves¨ was how Kodlak had put it. With the simple change of a word, Aela had rid our actions of any and all dishonesty. For in the hunt, there was honor.

The scent of smoke grew stronger as we worked our way through the snow-covered fauna, fresh snow beneath muffled the sounds of our feet as we walked. Every now and then Aela would click her tongue to let me know to stop, for whatever reassuring reason she had. She'd tilt her head and smell the air for a second, only to give me a nod to continue forward again.

I found it annoying. Partially because, well, I wanted to move forward. But more so because it made me realize how much more attuned she was. After my turning, I had felt amazing. Everything enhanced. Faster, stronger, quicker. Everything I could imagine had improved. The sudden rush of power made me feel so much more than ever before. Yet now, next to Aela, I came to realize how little it all meant. How naive I had been, fooling myself into believing I was truly strong. My senses noticed things no ordinary man's would, yet nothing before her's did.

Your strength is your own. If you don't train them like any other skill, you might as well be without them.

I had joined the Companions over four years ago. Been a member of the Circle for slightly over half a year. I knew training our skills and proficiency in battle was 90% of what we did. But somehow, it seemed I had forgotten that fact the moment I believed myself to be stronger than I thought imaginable. After turning.

I realized now. I was naive…

I had yet to touch the surface. That's why Skjor still called me ¨Whelp,¨ was it not?

"There," I said gesturing forward as the camp came into view. Except it wasn't a camp, more like a full-blown base. Training areas, makeshift kitchen, stables and more. Not to mention the old stone fort standing in the center, surrounded by a wide stone wall. It was more than we had expected. Maybe even more than the two of us could handle.

The wolf armor, with its dull-gray plating, offered little in the way of camouflage. Luckily, the surrounding foliage and woods offered enough for both of us to remain unseen as we crawled closer.

"I don't see Skjor," Aela whispered as she lay flat on her stomach next to me, leaning on her elbows.

Looking over the area wasn't reassuring. There were at least twenty, or more, Silver Hands around the place. Archers on the walls, workers... some chatting, others patrolling.

As I tried to come up with a strategy, any kind of strategy really, and suppress the growing feeling of hopelessness that had begun to cling to my stomach, I caught myself fiddling with my ring, slowly spinning it around on my finger. A habit I recently found myself doing whenever I got worried. Guess it reminded me of Ysolda. And that there was more than myself to worry about now.

We can take over your parents' farm! You can work the farm and I'll get the Khajiits to travel through Rorikstead, so I can open up shop there. We can live a slow and normal life.

Between the two of us, Ysolda had always been more the worrying type. When she wasn't lost in her fanatic trading ambitions, at least. Most of the time she seemed fine with me being a Companion, working in a profession of death and all. And I knew she trusted me most of the time, but still, she'd worry for me. What wife wouldn't? Something she lately had taken to remind me of through arguments, not much to my liking.

That's marriage for you, I thought with a smile as I lowered my hand and continued to watch over the camp.

"What's that? In the far end," I asked as I gestured toward a group of Silver Hands. I stared at the movements one of them made, watching as he tossed a shovelful of dirt over his shoulder. And he wasn't the only one. All three of them were up to their waists in the ground, tossing dirt. My heart took a beat for the worst as I realized the truth. They were digging graves. "You don't think…"

"The Silver Hand wouldn't give Skjor a grave," Aela said without giving it an extra thought. "It's most likely for the men he killed. No. If they have Skjor, they have him inside."

Her words brought me some comfort. But that didn't save us from the real problem here. "And how are we to get inside?"

"There's too many of them to risk a head-on attack," she said. More an observation than an answer.

A head-on attack was precisely what Farkas would've done. ¨Let's introduce ourselves,¨ he had said that one time. We had been outnumbered that time, too. But then again, that time our opponents had been nothing more than drunk and simple bandits, raiding caravans for mead more so than coin. A head-on attack was the Companion-way. But this was different.

"What are you suggesting?"

Aela chewed on the inside of her lower lip as she took her time before giving an answer. "I don't know…" Not much of an answer. "There's too many archers. Too many Silver Hands… This is not at all what the information Skjor got said. It was supposed to be a larger camp, perhaps a dozen men. But this is a fort… As many men as there seem to be, I bet there's plenty more of them inside. I have a bad feeling, but this is…" Aela slightly shook her head. "This is more than we can handle."

After a short pause, I asked, "You think it's a trap?"

"I do. It would explain a lot. I told Skjor he got that information way too easy, but stubborn as he is he just saw a chance to take the fight to them."

"But even if it is a trap, we can't leave."

"I know."

"And if they do have Skjor…"

"I know!"

I twitched at Aela's sudden loud outburst, a shared feeling as Aela herself grimaced at her volume. This whole situation with Skjor had clearly affected her more than she would let on. The pressure of worry, simmering within her, had seemed to finally boil over. Washing away her usual ¨I'm in control¨ demeanor.

Hoping she hadn't given away our position, I quickly scanned the base to see if anyone had heard her. Thankfully, it didn't look like it as the Silver Hands continued their affairs undisturbed.

Aela's lips were pressed together in a thin line before she continued. "I'm not saying we should leave. We can't. It's just… I have to think about this." Aela retreated a pace or two to get some room to think.

I had never seen her this worried before. I could feel it creeping within me, as though she'd infected me with it, as I set my eyes on the camp. Worry had an uncomfortable way of showing one reality. Were we in denial? Did we simply push it off as they got Skjor, when the reality could be much worse. What if he was…

No. Aela said she couldn't smell his blood. And I know how strong Skjor is. Sparing, I never stood a chance. He was far too fast for me. He wouldn't lose to some Silver Hands. But where was he then? We know there had been a fight at the meeting spot. So where was he? And now they're digging graves. Could he really be…

Again, I caught myself spinning my ring. Lost in thought as I stared at the golden ring around my finger, my thumb slowly spinning it around. How would Ysolda feel if it was me? And what about Aela?

I know they tried to keep it a secret, and they did so well, but the rumors were there. Njada had been the first one to tell me. I knew that Skjor and Aela had feelings for one another. She must be feeling a lot worse than I.

A noise from the base brought me back to reality as I lifted my eyes, the sound of a heavy door opening violently. Someone came running out of the fort, almost tripping over the threshold as he exited the building. Unlike the other Silver Hands, he didn't look older than me. In fact, he looked slightly younger. Maybe Ria's age.

"Aela," I said without taking my eyes off the man. "Something's going on." It didn't take long for her to crawl back beside me to watch.

He seemed panicked as he ran into the courtyard, frantically turning to look behind him every now and then. As if he was being chased. Clearly out of breath, he waved his arms for attention, yet the others didn't seem to notice him. When he reached the center of the courtyard he stopped, hands on his knees, as he regained his breath and drew air.

"WEREWOOLF!"

I threw a look at Aela, who as quickly turned her head to me. She wore a hard expression on her face.

"That must be Skjor," she exclaimed, reaching for her bow as she hastily pulled herself up to a knee.

Turmoil had taken over the base as shouts and commands could be heard. Silver Hands were running around and all their attention was now aimed at the fort. One of them, who seemed to be in charge, strictly waved his hands around at the others. Giving out orders I assumed. He didn't take long to do so before he moved for the fort, followed by most of the Silver Hands, including the young-looking man who had come running out, and before we knew it the earlier filled courtyard had turned almost empty.

"There are five archers. Two men by the door…" I didn't know if Aela was thinking out loud or telling me what I could clearly see for myself. But from the look in her eyes, I could tell where she was going with it. "It's now or never. Go for the men by the door. Don't worry about the archers, I'll handle them."

Aela didn't need to tell me twice. I pulled myself up and reached for my axe. The remaining men's attention was still directed at the fort, and if we attacked now we'd get inside the camp before anyone would even notice.

"I got your back," Aela said. I answered her with a nod as we both began to sprint.

He was alive. Well, of course, he was alive. To think that for a second I had doubted him.

Aela took the lead, heading toward the stone wall surrounding the courtyard to get to a high point, while I continued forward, toward the opening into the courtyard. She was clearly faster than me. But unlike me, she wasn't weighed down by a full set of heavy armor.

Her armor consisted mostly of hard leather. Only plated with, dull gray, skyforge steel around her torso, waist, and the outside of her upper thighs. It wasn't suited for close and heavy combat. It was made for an archer. Less plating made her lighter overall, no plating on her legs, other than the sides of her thighs, made her quick on her feet. No plating on her arms made it easier and faster to work her bow. And fighting from a distance, the only real threats she'd face were other archers and archers always aimed for the easiest target to hit, the center mass of the body, the only place where her armor was steel. That's Eorlund for you. Custom made and adapted after person and function, both in design and practicality.

Aela gracefully scaled the stone wall as I went past her into the courtyard. Knowing what was to come, my body prepared for combat by rushing my system with adrenaline, sharpening my senses and reflexes. The men by the door were still facing one another, but I knew that would soon change. Tightening my grip, I charged into the courtyard. My body began feeling warm, as if it was working on overdrive. This felt distinctively different than training and sparring.

Someone shouted on the wall to my right, quickly followed by the sound of an arrow being let loose slightly behind me on my left. Aela worked fast, but not fast enough. We had been spotted. The two men, though still far away both turned toward me, warned by the shout. A quick scan showed two archers on the wall to my right, and two on my left. No sign of the last archer, Alea must have dealt with him already.

My ears reacted first as an arrow came flying toward me from my right. Instinct kicked in as I ducked, mid-sprint, and the arrow whistled above my head. Odd, I hadn't seen it but it felt as if it had flown slower than arrows should fly. The second archer on my right worked just as fast, aiming his bow and letting another arrow loose. This one I saw coming. Again, it felt odd. I could see it coming for me through the air, it moved fast yet seemingly slower than it should.

Briefly, I remembered Farkas used his armor to block incoming arrows as he ran. At the sudden curiosity, I couldn't help but try doing the same.

My senses sharpened even further as I focused on the approaching arrow. I could already tell where it would strike. My ears were warm by the increased blood flow as I slightly twisted my torso and lowered my shoulder.

My shoulder plate rang loud as the arrow ricocheted off of it, striking precisely where I had intended. Unaffected by the arrow, I continued my charge, filled with a feeling of excitement and pride that it had worked. How easy it had felt. As if, had I wanted to, I could've caught the arrow with my bare hand.

Finally closing in on the two men I reminded myself to ignore the archers. Aela will handle them. And they won't risk hitting their own men as I get closer.

The two men stood ready as I closed the distance. The one on the right had a sword and shield, the other one nothing but a sword. The window of surprise had closed long ago. I had no choice but to take them head-on. But they saw me coming, were prepared for it. No matter how I made my first move, they'd see it coming. I would miss. I had to force their movement. Get them to where I wanted. The fort was behind them so they couldn't retreat more than a step or two, lest they wanted to end up with their backs against the wall. I'd use that. A wide swing would force them back. Or for them to duck under.

With a few paces left, I lifted my axe horizontally to my right, preparing to strike. I'd force them back.

The muscles in my arms tightened as I began my swing. Both men instantly reacted. The one on the right lifted his shield, while the other one jumped back. Surely he didn't intend to block my axe? Idiot!

It was impossible to tell which sound came first. My axe hitting his shield or his shield smashing into the side of his face.

He spun violently as my axe broke through and sent him flying, his splintered shield following closely behind. It was the only reason his head was still intact.

My axe pulled me left and I continued forward with the momentum, slamming my shoulder into the second man, who hadn't had time to react. Something cracked as he slammed into the stone wall behind him. Getting crushed between a stone wall and heavy armored Companion was sure to break ribs.

Sliding down the wall he dropped to his knees, grasping for the air that had left him. I didn't wait for him to regain it as I stepped back and lifted my axe above my head. Like chopping wood, I swung down hard. My axe didn't stop until it was embedded halfway through his torso.

I calmly drew a breath before I stepped on his shoulder and pulled my axe out of his halfway split corpse. I felt horrible at the sight, disgusted even. Killing people with a sword or arrows had never been this ugly. Unlike a sword, my axe didn't make clean cuts. Nor did it leave people with nothing but shafts of wood sticking out of them. It simply split whatever I hit in two. It was bloody, messy. Yet nothing compared to what Farkas had done in Dustman's Cairn.

This wasn't pretty at all.

A gurgling moan behind me caused me to turn. He hadn't died? He didn't look much better. Splinters from his shield were embedded in half his face, his left cheekbone had turned to a deep dent as it had broken into his face and the left side of his jaw had dislocated and hung all twisted and ugly. A white liquid ran down the side of his face as one eye had been ruptured by the splinters.

This… wasn't pretty at all…

"Klll me," he garbled, the words twisted and pained. Not only was his jaw dislocated, but I could see now that his bloodied mouth was also missing teeth. But it wasn't hard to understand him.

You would've been better off not blocking at all. Taking a hit like that must surely have injured his brain as well. He might not even be fully aware anymore. Drifting… between life and death.

Jerked by a sudden pain in my left shoulder, I toppled to my right. Crap! I had forgotten all about the archers.

The arrow had found its way comfortably and precise between my shoulder plate and the arm plate. Nothing but a lucky strike. Though not wearing a helmet I supposed I was the lucky one, had he aimed for my head. Maybe he had.

Quickly, I turned toward the archer now on my left side. The second one was gone, surely dealt with by Aela. He hadn't taken much time to notch another arrow on his bow and was already aiming it at me.

One of Aela's arrows hit him straight through his neck the moment he let it loose, but his arrow was still coming for me. Being prepared, it wasn't hard to dodge. A simple sidestep and it flew right past me.

This time I was certain. The arrow had seemed to fly slower. Not noticeably so, but enough to make me question it. Was the adrenaline not only sharpening my senses but my perception as well? Was this yet another perk of being moon born? Surely it was. It had to be. And no matter, once again I liked it. How much more strength had the wolf-blood given me that I had yet to discover? How many more secrets now hid within my body?

I turned my head towards Aela, standing atop the stone wall as she gave a clear nod over the distance. That must have been the last one.

The battle couldn't have lasted more than a minute. If even that. Yet it had felt longer. Odd how time seems to slow when there is plenty going on. And if adrenaline really did slow my perception of time, the feeling would only be more apparent.

Finally able to relax I turned my attention to my arm. The arrow wasn't deep, yet I could feel it in my skin. Hopefully, it isn't deep enough that I'd have to push it through my arm. At this moment, that kind of injury isn't something we can afford. Being a two-handed-wielder I'm kind of forced to rely on both my arms.

I leaned my axe against the wall and grabbed the shaft of the arrow, giving it a light tug. A brief moment of pain as I pulled at it, yet it easily came loose from my arm. It was however still stuck in the double layer of furred wolf skin beneath my armor. And no matter how I twisted and jerked, it didn't come loose. So I simply broke off the arrow, as close to the arrowhead I could, and pushed it through the wolf suit and worked it down and out of my sleeve.

As I took a look at it, the arrowhead was surprisingly light in color for steel, almost like silver. There was a bit of blood on it. Not much, but it had clearly broken the skin and gotten deep, but thanks to the wolf suit not deep enough to get stuck in my flesh. Guess I really did get lucky.

Tossing the arrowhead aside I looked over at Aela, jogging toward me across the courtyard, before turning my attention to the dying man on the ground.

He was still breathing. Slowly and heavily. Pained. The one eye that wasn't mush didn't seem to be present, staring into the sky as if in a trance.

"I saw that. How is your arm?" Aela asked as she came up close.

"It's fine…" I answered, my eyes still set on the man. "Barely broke skin."

"Good. Let's get inside then."

"What about him?" I lifted my head towards Aela.

"What about him?"

"We can't just leave him like this?"

"By the looks of it, he'll be dead in minutes."

"But… He's suffering."

"So leave him to suffer! He's a Silver Hand, given the chance he'd do worse to you!"

I was taken aback by her words. Aela would leave an opponent to suffer? Intentionally? That's not… Companions fought fair. Clean. We didn't fight out of cruelty. We fought for honor. How many times hadn't Skjor told me to kill quickly, both out of skill and mercy? Don't leave them to suffer. Never before had I believed Aela to be cruel. Like me, she grew up a hunter. Surely she must have been taught the same? But perhaps her reasoning wasn't that of cruelty, but hurry for Skjor? I told myself it was the latter.

"Well, I'm not them," I finally said. Of that, I was certain.

Aela let out an impatient sigh as she turned her head towards the door, then back at me. "Well get it over with quickly then. We don't have time to waste."

I sighed as well, as I turned toward the man. I reached for my dagger, resting in its hilt on my belt, as I kneeled down beside him. He was breathing through his mouth, causing a gurgling sound as blood was running down the corner of his hanging jaw. His breathing was as heavy and slow as before, and his one eye was still locked into the sky. It didn't even flinch as I must have come into his view by now. I wasn't even certain if he ¨was there¨ anymore. A part of that made it easier. For had he been looking at me, truly looking at me, this would've become a lot harder.

I hadn't had to mercy kill anything other than deer before. This felt vastly different than taking a life in battle. In battle, one simply fought until there was but one left standing. Nothing but skill deciding the outcome. One was rarely given much time to think of anything but one's next move. There was a warrior's honor in that.

But now? Now there was simply me. Holding a dagger over a dying man's chest who wasn't even able to defend himself. Perhaps his mind had already reached Sovngarde, and he was already feasting with his fallen brothers in the afterlife. Or perhaps his mind was still in there, fighting for its life in a dying body.

Deer would always move, eyes flickering, legs kicking. They'd fight for their lives until the very end. And they'd always look at you. Always… He didn't.

I could feel my hands shaking. Not enough to be seen, but enough that I felt it. No. ¨Kill me.¨ He had said, while he still had been able to talk. Those had been his final words. His final request. The only cruelty here would be not honoring them. He was still in there… Surrendered. He had given up. Now he was simply waiting for it to end. For me to end it.

Just like a deer. Between the ribs, into the heart.

My hands stopped shaking as I made up my mind and pushed it down. He didn't react at all as life left him. His breathing simply stopped. And just like a deer, his eye turned dull, hollow, and empty.

"Sure took your time," Aela said before I even had time to pull out my dagger. "Now let's move."