"No, no…pick her up." Those words, followed by someone sliding an arm under my shoulders and knees, lifting me off the floor, jerked me from my delirious dreams. I was pressed against something—or someone—warm and strong; I was just aware of the cold, and of my skin trembling, even though the wounds still felt like fire.
The rough voice continued, "Roll out the bedrolls, just like that. Cover them with two of the grizzly skins, furry-side up. Now the snow bear pelt…You can put her down now, Adian." The warmth that held me lowered my body, and my back touched soft fur. "Pack wolf pelts all around her, and cover her with another snow bear pelt. If that doesn't keep her warm, nothing will…" The voices faded as darkness claimed me once more.
Something elevated my head, a firm hand rubbing the hinge of my jaw to open my mouth. A fiery liquid was poured down my throat, and I gasped at the heat even as I swallowed…not the slow, soothing heat whisky or brandy, but like a hard kick to my gut. But the pain in my wounds numbed, though by no means eased; I knew that the wounds still hurt, and that I'd feel them after the potion or whatever wore off, but I couldn't feel them. It occurred to me that I wasn't making much sense, and was feverish or delirious, most likely both.
"There…that should help bolster her health, but it won't do a thing for her wounds…I just don't have the right ingredients! And what'll happen after tonight? You know she won't be able to make a kill, Adian…"
Why are kills so important? I wondered even as I drifted back into a dreamless sleep. The last coherent thought I had for sometime was, Oh, that's right…because I'm a werewolf. And if we don't kill at night, we become weaker…
Cool hands gripped my own, and I groaned, opening my eyes. I looked up into the face of a pretty young Wood Elf, a Bosmer, her forehead creased in worry. "Stay with me, Shadow," she begged when she saw that my eyes were open, "They don't think you'll wake up again if you go back to sleep…"
I fought the blackness that rose up in waves, seeking me, recognizing in some distant part of my mind that the Bosmer was right. But why…It was then I noted that my flank and my side didn't hurt as much as my shoulder…. I croaked out an unintelligible word, and the female helpfully wetted my lips with a damp rag, letting me suck some moisture down my dry throat. I tried speaking again, and was able to make myself understood this time. "Shoulder!"
The Bosmer blinked, and reached for my right shoulder…as soon as her fingers brushed across the wound, the pain redoubled, and I blacked out.
I was vaguely aware of some female that I was sure I knew sobbing above me, whispering over and over, "Such a little thing…such a little thing…."
Another voice, this one male and again familiar, murmured, "Such a little thing to weep. So sure a thing to sigh. And yet by traits the size of these, we men and women die."
"Stop talking like that, both of you!" An old, harsh voice barked, "Taima Shadow is young and strong; now that the silver is out of her blood, she might pull through. Adian, go make yourself useful outside. Irwaen, sit with her. Let me or Eponis know if anything changes…" I slid back to sleep, a deep, dreamless, healing sleep.
A claw brushing across my muzzle half-roused me, but I didn't open my eyes as I normally would have. Sometime in the course of my sleep, I had rolled onto my belly, and so the claw slid down the back of my neck and along my spine, stroking me…not as one would pet a dog, but more the like soothing a mother gives a child. The notes of someone singing reached my ears, and while I found it too hard to follow the lyrics, I enjoyed the haunting melody. I was just able to pick up what seemed to be the refrain;
"In the Valley of Dana, the echoes rang around me. In the Valley of Dana, with battle cries amid the tombs…"
"White-heart?" A soft growl called from the outside, and the singing and the stroking stopped. The warm presence of another werewolf near me left, from the sounds to stand near the entrance to talk to whoever was outside. I didn't strain to hear the conversation as I normally would have, but drifted off back to sleep.
A translation of the refrain of the song La tribu de Dana, by the French band Manau. Those who know the band and the song should note that the style of the music and a few of the words would be slightly different to fit into the context of Morrowind.