The air was frigid and dry. A slight breeze could be felt from the western mountains of the Reach. Kaiah crawled out of her small fur tent after a long night in the cold. She bore her Hammerfell garb and had her blue turban in her right hand. She wanted to feel the winds grace her dreadlocks after having them wrapped in her turban all night. She grabbed a nearby stick and poked at the burnt wood in her campfire. She put out the fire before she went to sleep to avoid arousing suspicion; didn't want any unwelcome visitors. Though she knew better to always keep her scimitars next to her as she slept.

She took two nearby rocks and struck them together in an attempt to spark a fire. After several attempts she saw a small and fickle fire start to brew in the deadwood. She went to grab more wood nearby and tossed them in the fire. After getting a small fire started she took out a salted raw rabbit haunch from her knapsack. She poked the haunch with a stick and roasted it with a stick. While not the quickest way to cook, she had to make due with what she had.

She looked out over the cliffside towards the east. The fog was condensed and she couldn't see far, but the eastern mountain ranges of the Reach were surely beautiful. Kaiah knew to watch herself around this region. Stories of savage men who call themselves "Reachman" were known to raid, capture, torture, or murder innocent travelers. Experienced warriors were spared no expense either. Kaiah has seen far too many human remains of mercenaries strung up by a noose along the roads leading to the capital city, Markarth.

Kaiah was by no means a native to the harsh and cold kingdom of Skyrim, the northernmost province of Tamriel. She was from Hammerfell, a much more dry and warmer country south-west of the province. She was Redgaurd, with sun-kissed dark skin and black coily hair. Though her piercing blue eyes made her stand out from most typical Redgaurds. Her father was a Nord, native of Skyrim. While she shared her mother's complexion, with a wide nose, slender jaw and plump lips, she had her father's stubborn and prideful personality.

The Redguard woman had never been to her father's ancestral homeland during her childhood. She spent her life in Elinhir, the easternmost city along the mountains bordering Skyrim. She was proud of her Redgaurd heritage, but she never knew much about Nord culture and customs. She sort of grew to resent her father for it.

Kaiah joined the Alik'r out of Sentinel in Hammerfell when she was only eighteen summers. She loved fighting, even as a child she was always told she had a fire in her heart. Her father taught her to wield a blade, much against her mother's wishes, and it was some of her most cherished moments with him. She never wanted to be a silversmith like her mother. She wanted to be a warrior, an adventurer. That was her dream. But her mother never let her hear the end of it.

Eventually she had enough. She joined the Alik'r in Sentinel in western Hammerfell. Her mother was furious, of course, but her father was proud of her for following her heart. Even if her heart led her to some inconspicuous places. But mercenary work was not the worst thing Kaiah could do. And her father knew she would thrive.

And thrive she did.

She was a natural. Fast and elegant with the dual blades she presented every skill that was found in a true Alik'r warrior. She was light on her feet and quick, which was exactly what made her excel. She spent her young adult years learning from the best swordsmen in Hammerfell. And she loved every bit of it.

But the Alik'r were not without flaws that Kaiah simply could no longer overlook. They employed themselves in service to the Aldmeri Dominion, also known by many as the Thalmor. Many left the order in light of this, and there are some splinter factions that operate outside of the Dominion's inquiries. However, Kaiah was fiercely loyal to her leaders, a feeling she just couldn't help.

The Sentinel faction were looking to send groups of Alik'r agents to Skyrim in search of high profile individuals criminalized by the Thalmor. Many fled to Skyrim, High Rock, and Cyrodiil after speaking out against the Dominion. Kaiah never much cared for politics, but she knew that everyone had a right to speak out against what they thought was injustice, even if they were wrong. She volunteered for the Skyrim detachment. She wanted an excuse to visit her father's homeland, but more importantly she wanted an outing. The Alik'r work in small, sometimes individual groups. She knew she could get assigned alone and no one would bat an eye if she went missing.

She did just that.

It has been almost a week in this forsaken frozen land and she was not prepared for the winter ahead. She wanted to maintain a low profile and travel the roads but she couldn't do that dressed as an Alik'r warrior. The Nords were not exactly welcoming to the mercenaries.

It was as though the Divines were reading her thoughts as she spotted a Khajiit caravan traveling the road just beneath the cliff she was hiding on. This was it. She had her chance to barter some armor off the cats. The Redguard quickly packed her knapsack and rushed down the cliffside to catch up with the caravan. She managed to barely catch the traveling merchants.

"Wait!" the woman huffed, trying to wave them down from behind.

One of the Khajiit merchants turned around with a curious look. "Ah, a traveler would like to buy some wares?"

Kaiah panted as she tried to catch her breath, hunched over with her hands on her knees. She regained her composure and looked at the furry merchant.

"I need some armor."

Jorrvaskr was bustling tonight more than normal. The newest Companion, a young Imperial woman named Ria, was just officially inducted within their ranks. It was customary to celebrate after a new initiation, and the Companions sought after every reason to celebrate with mead. The whelps were always eager to celebrate and had the most energy. The senior leaders, however, partook but in a much more subtle manner. The companions were sitting at the long table in their mead hall when a curious man noticed his brother was not as enthused as the rest.

"What's wrong brother?" the large but rather innocent Nord man inquired, "you seem more tired than usual."

The brother in question took a sip from his mead in disinterest, "I haven't been sleeping much these days."

"There's plenty of women at the Bannered Mare."

"Believe it or not, not all of your problems can be solved with bedding a wench, Farkas."

The clueless Nord shrugged his shoulders, "always works for me."

The brother rolled his eyes and took a chug of his mead. The Nord man hadn't slept in days. Staying up through all hours of the night either staring at the ceiling or re-reading one of his old books. The only thing keeping his mind off of his insomnia is training the whelps. Though even that has been becoming more of a challenge these days.

"Vilkas."

The tired Nord cocked his head to the left and saw his Harbinger, Kodlak Whitemane, taking a seat next to him. He was an older Nord with long white hair and a beard. His face wrinkled from the stress and battles he had fought over the years. The bags under his eyes seem to recede more and more every day, and it seems he has more trouble with lifting a longsword than he used to. The man was aging, that much Vilkas knew, and it was apparent that he was thinking about the afterlife. To which he confided in him.

"Harbinger," he muttered. Kodlak gave him a sincere and rather serious look, "I want to thank you for accompanying Ria for her Trial. It seems Skjor is not much willing to mentor the whelps these days. It is greatly appreciated."

"She fought well enough, I suppose," Vilkas shrugged, "still has much to learn."

"Give the lass more credit, Vilkas," Kodlak pressed, "after all, we were all whelps at one point."

Vilkas finished off the last of his mead before standing from his chair. "I'm going to retire-"

"So soon?" Kodlak asked curiously.

"I'm tired." And with that Vilkas excused himself and walked back to his quarters. He could still hear the commotion from upstairs, even as he went further down the living quarters. He took a right and went into his room, closing the doors behind him before taking off his armor. In nothing but his trousers he fell into his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling above him. He could hear his own heart beating in his chest and the blood flowing through his veins. The blood had been restless these last several days. Ever since he promised Kodlak he wouldn't shift, that he would remain true to his human form, and resist the calling of the blood, he couldn't sleep.

Some nights he almost gave in. The hunt sounded like paradise, an anecdote to his insomnia and pent up rage. If he just gave in this once…

But he couldn't.

And he wouldn't.