The next time I woke, it was the slow waking that I hadn't experienced since before I was wounded. I was first aware of the sounds from outside; the sound of saws and hammers punctured by frequent curses and arguments, all done at full voice, easily audible to me. Below my hand resting on the stone floor of the cavern, I could feel the mountain tremble, could just hear rocks fall within the mountain…I didn't take the time to puzzle either out, but instead stretched slowly, opening my eyes, wincing as the wounds made themselves heard once again, though nowhere near the intensity of what they had been. I rolled onto my back with an effort, and worked my good arm underneath me, propping myself up so I could see.

A shaft of light streamed through the narrow opening of the entrance, and I wasn't unduly surprised to see the Bosmer from before sitting at the foot of my bed—a conglomerate of various furs—softly singing to herself in her native tongue as she braided her dusty gold hair. She looked up, and smiled when she saw my eyes on her. "You're awake! The healers thought it might be sometime today…how do you feel?"

"Umm…better…but confused. Do I know you?"

She grinned, "Not in this form, no. You'd know me as Ebony. But my real name, if you want to call it that, is Irwaen."

"Oh!" Now some of the conversations I had heard during the few moments I was awake were beginning to make sense. "White-heart would be Eponis, right?"

"Oh, you're good," Irwaen laughed. "You are very good. Yes, White-heart is a Redguard healer named Eponis."

"And Adian…?" I prompted, recalling the other name I had often heard.

She laughed again, "Thunder, of course! The biggest Nord you've ever laid eyes on! And the handsomest," she wiggled an eyebrow at me, winking.

I arched a brow in her general direction, "You know, they're right when they say that Wood Elves have no manners."

"We don't need manners," she retorted, taking the gibe in good humor, "We can shoot straight and run like the wind."

"So you can shoot anyone who takes offense to what you tell them, then run from the guards?"

"Something like that," she laughed.

I settled back on my arm, and another name came to my lips, "What about Ranger?"

"What about him? Oh, you mean who is he? Ranger is a Bosmer, like me, called Pegasai."

"Pegasai…" I repeated, the name familiar but…My eyes widened when I realized where I'd heard it, "The rogue…!"

"…who gave all that he stole to those who needed it and who was never captured…but was savaged by a werewolf. He couldn't show his face around any civilized area, so…"

I nodded, amazed, "So he became one of us," I finished.

"That's the long and short of it, yeah," she nodded.

My mind buzzed with questions, and I leaned back against my arms, trying to comprehend all that had happened and all that was still happening. One of the simplest questions I still had bubbled to my lips, "There was someone else who watched over me, wasn't there? An older male, harsh voice…?"

Irwaen nodded, "Boromor, better known as 'Elder.' He's the oldest werewolf I've ever seen…most of us tend to get killed by the colonists when we start getting old and careless, you know…"

I nodded, considering a moment before saying slowly, "So you, Adian, Eponis, and Boromor stayed with me to tend to my wounds. Did the rest of the werewolves get away from the fight safely?"

She gave me a puzzled look, then burst out laughing, "Of course they did! They're all…oh. That's right; you wouldn't know…" A slow, secretive smile spread across her face as her eyes danced in laughter.

"What is it?" I asked, curious but not worried, "What happened to the others?"

"I don't know if I should tell you," she said slowly, a smile still curving her lips, "You're still pretty weak, after all…maybe it would be better if I…"

"Irwaen, don't tease her," a tall Redguard scolded as she entered into the tiny cavern. As she knelt by my head, she continued in the Wood Elf's general direction, "She's got a right to know." Then she rested a hand on my forehead for a moment, palm-up, before flipping it over, "You don't have much of a fever anymore," she informed me, "and I'll be willing to bet that the wounds in your flank and side are almost completely scared over…can't promise anything for the shoulder, but then again, the silver was in it a lot longer…."

"That's…good?" I offered, thrown slightly by her sudden and causal appearance. She has to be White-heart—I mean, Eponis…Hircine, this will take a while to get used to! I glanced over at Irwaen and prompted her again, "What happened to the rest of the werewolves?"

Irwaen held her silence for a second longer, letting the suspense build, then blurted out as if she could no longer stand to keep her silence, "They formalized the pack!"

I fell back onto the furs in shock, "What! You mean…instead of just coming together every so often to hunt or whatever, we…"

Eponis nodded, peeling back the pelts around me to unwind the bandages around my wounded shoulder, "We are now an actual pack, yes. The males even headed up to Hrothmund's Bane—you know, that formation of rocks and ice that looks like a wolf with a crypt for the eye?—to determine who would be the leader of the pack."

"Thunder won, of course," Irwaen cut in. "But that's not all of it! Tell her the rest, Eponis!"

The Redguard healer arched an eyebrow, not looking away from the raw wound, "All of the rest, Irwaen?" The Wood Elf began to nod, then stopped, a look of horror on her face. Eponis continued as if she hadn't noticed Irwaen's reaction, "I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, even when they're mixed with good. Adian, as the leader of the pack, and because it was his idea, should be the one to tell her,"

Irwaen hesitated, emotions warring on her face, but impatience won out, "But he won't be back until twilight! Maybe not even 'till morning if his friend Korst Wind-Eye keeps him late…"

I blinked in confusion, and decided not to ask. I was starting to get uneasy; what bad news were they talking about? Obviously something that pertained to me, but I had just been publicly accused of being a werewolf and almost died of a silver arrowhead, for Hircine's sake! How much worse could life get? Eponis shrugged as she pulled a small bottle of some strong-smelling liquid from the small satchel she carried, liberally pouring it over my shoulder, the liquid stinging, then soothing, the half-healed flesh, "True enough…but one of the Council should tell her, at the very least." To my arched eyebrow she commented as she began to wind a clean bandage over the wound, "Six of the oldest werewolves—three male, three female—are going to serve as judges in the event that one of us breaks the laws of the pack…which we have yet to figure out. Also, they'll serve as guides—in matters of spirit or the heart—for us, like shamans or wise women."

The Bosmer cursed aloud, "For the love of the hunt, Eponis! Boromor's on the Council!"

Dusting off her hands, Eponis rocked back on her heels and fixed the younger female with a tired gaze, before nodding in surrender, "Very well. Go find him and let him know that Taima's awake." Flushed with victory, Irwaen leapt to her feet and bolted out of the small cavern, her footsteps crunching on the snow outside. Eponis shook her head, and shifted the furs surrounding me a bit more, so that my side was exposed. I followed her gaze down to it, and whistled in spite of myself at the ragged scar that stretched diagonally down my ribs. "And to think that I was never in danger of dieing from this one," I said, awed.

Eponis glanced up, and shrugged as she pulled out a different bottle from her satchel. As she poured a little bit of the oily liquid into her hands, rubbing them together to warm the oil before sliding them over the scar, she commented, "In a sense, you were. This wound sapped strength which could have been better used to fight off the silver in your blood. But I see your point; in normal circumstances, no, you wouldn't have danced with death over this one." She kneaded the sore muscle and flesh of my side for a moment, then shifted positions yet again, tugging the furs over me before rolling me onto my side to give her access to the second arrow-wound. Unlike my shoulder, this one was just a small, neat scar. Eponis made a noise of satisfaction before rubbing the oil into it, her strong hands easing the ache.

Just as she was wrapping the wolf pelts back over me and pulling the snow bear pelt atop them, Irwaen returned, leading a tall, older Nord male. Even with three in the cavern, we were cramped, but we could squeeze in three if no one moved much. Four, however, was stretching it. Fortunately enough, Eponis seemed to sense this as well, for she stood and quietly excused herself, snagging Irwaen's elbow on the way past, dragging her out as well. The Nord I could safely assume was Boromor watched them go with an amused smile, then sank down onto his haunches at the side of my bed, "You're looking a sight better than I've seen you in days," he rumbled.

I grinned in spite of myself, "All I know is that the holes in my hide are closing despite valiant attempts to kill me."

Boromor threw back his head and laughed, "Now that's the spirit of a hunter and a fighter! We'll need plenty of that in this pack, to be sure."

I shrugged, "I am at the pack's command," I said honestly, and then sobered, "Eponis was mumbling something about bad news mixed with good…?"

The older Nord nodded, sobering as well, "Oh, aye, there's good news, but there's also ill." He looked down at his hands a moment, then sighed and looked back up into my eyes, "I'm sorry, Taima Shadow. After we all were gathered here, and after we had agreed to form a true pack, the first thing we did was head to your cabin to retrieve some of your things, knowing that you'd need them. But…we were already too late." His gaze drifted downward again, and I felt my throat tighten. I knew what was coming… "The colonists put the torch to your house, Taima. By the time we got there, the blaze had almost burned itself out…we managed to scavenge your sword and your bow, and some pieces of armor made of good steel, but the rest…" he shrugged a single broad shoulder, "It's just ashes now."

I swallowed hard, and tried to say lightly, "What are possessions? Only things that tie you to one place. I'm a hunter, a wanderer; I'm tied to nothing."

"Even wolves have their dens," Boromor rumbled.

I nodded, reluctant to admit this, head turned to my chest. I blinked back a tear, "It's so hard to believe that it's all gone…what's going to happen to me now?"

"The pack'll take care of you. Never doubt that."

I snorted, "I don't want to be burden to anyone."

Boromor waved it off, his eyes gleaming, "You won't be, and that's where the good news comes in." I looked into his face, puzzled once again, and saw laughter dancing in his eyes. "Let's review. We're a formal pack now, with Adian Thunder as our leader. We don't have a female leader yet, in case you were wondering—it was a unanimous decision among the females to wait until you were well enough to compete if you wanted to."

I raised an eyebrow, "Isn't the female leader the mate of the male leader?"

"In theory, yes. But there's never been a pack like this before, so we can do things our way. There are…unwritten laws, things we all know, such as the way a male leader is chosen, but nothing's set in stone yet." He shrugged, "In any case, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Continuing: up until now, we've been scattered all over the island, from those of us deep in the wilds who are completely self-sufficient, to those like you, who are secluded, but do need supplies from the colony or the fort, to those who have found a way to live inside the fort or the colony." He paused a moment there, shaking his head, "I've never understood how or why they did it, but that's beside the point.

"However, when we were still the loose pack, we met here, in this Gathering Place. Now that we are a true pack, it felt only natural to make this place our headquarters, if that is the word for it. Do you see where I'm going with this?" I was starting to get an idea, and so I nodded slowly, but let Boromor continue, "Well, we said, if we were going to have our headquarters here, and if we were going to be a true pack in every sense of the word, then it made sense that we should live here as well. But we couldn't camp out in the open, and so…Listen. Hear the hammers and the saws? Feel the magic pulsing in the mountain? You're hearing and feeling the construction of the very first and only town of werewolves. Or collection of dens or whatever they want to call it. Fact remains, it's still a town."

Though I had guessed it might have been something like that, I was still stunned. "A town of werewolves…all of us living together, working together…" I mused. "It's incredible, Boromor." A thought occurred to me, and I asked, "How're some of the older ones, like you, who are used to living alone, taking all of this? Surely they can't be happy that they're going to be living in a basic city…"

"I can only speak for myself, but this town…it's not going to be like the normal towns. Everyone here understands the dream of the blood moon, and of the joy of the hunt and the kill. That alone will make it an honor to be here, to be completely surrounded by my own species for once in my life. I'll have someone to hunt with, someone to share a mug of good mead with, someone to look out for me when I get too old or too ill to move…We Nords are a clannish lot. What is a pack but a clan of werewolves?"

I nodded agreement, then my heart sank, "Isn't it illegal to form settlements like the one you're proposing without the approval of the district governor? At least, that's what I thought I heard when I was still in Morrowind…"

He grinned, "Course it is. But it's already been taken care of. You miss a lot when you're unconscious for a little over a week…"

"I've been unconscious for a little over a week?" I cut him off, staring at his in disbelief.

He nodded, "Aye, and it's a good thing you stayed still in your sleep, or you could have torn the wounds open and the healing would have taken even longer."

I swallowed hard, and said in a horrified voice, "That means that I haven't been able to make a kill for a little over a week."

He nodded again, "That's right. And every morning we had to pour a nasty potion down your throat just to get you back where you were before you changed, health-wise. That's one of the reasons it took so long, I think."

I shuddered, and let it go at that. "Anyways…tell me how it's 'been taken care of.'"

"Simple enough, really. Adian used to be a Skaal warrior, until he was kicked out for being a werewolf and all that. But he maintained a friendship of sorts with their shaman, Korst Wind-Eye. Five, six days ago, he headed to the Skaal village and chatted with said shaman, explaining what he wanted and why…to quote him, 'Most of us werewolves aren't the insane lunatics or the devoutly faithful of the Lord of the Hunt that you know. Most of us just want a chance to live out our lives in peace. We don't want to have to worry that we'll be hunted down like dogs or burned in our homes. We just want to be left alone, with our own kin. That's all we ask from you; give us this territory, and leave us to our business, and we'll leave you to yours.'

"Well, Korst Wind-Eye was convinced, and headed south to talk with the Duke of Morrowind. He returned just yesterday with the news that the Duke had given us the go-ahead. And today, Adian was planning to speak with the rest of the Skaal through Wind-Eye, asking them not to kill any werewolves; we'll take care of punishing our own now." He shrugged, "Apparently, that was the deal the Duke offered; we'll get our land and our building permit, if we keep tabs on the rouges."

"We do that anyways! Or at least, I do."

Boromor grinned, "I know. But the Duke sure didn't. He's probably congratulating himself on a brilliant bargain." He stretched, and patted my good leg through the furs, "I'll leave you be now. You get some more rest, and maybe in a few days, when you can stand, I'll show you the town."

"Wait, quick question; what the hell are they doing inside the mountains?"

"Watch-towers, one in each of the four guardian mountains. They're hollowing out a big staircase, with a little room and ledge midway up, for guards and look-outs." With that, Boromor stood, his bones creaking, stretched as much as he could in the small cavern, and took his leave, momentarily blocking out the light from the entrance shaft. Behind him, I fell back onto the furs, staring up at the rock ceiling.

A town of werewolves, a true pack. Never again would I have to make excuses why I slept all morning, why I got my business done before nine at night, why I liked to spend my nights in solitude. Never again would I have to turn down an invitation to a feast or a party. Never again would I have to worry that I'd make a mistake and be discovered. Never again would I need to hide the side of me that exulted in the power of the hunt and the kill, who sang to the moon, who praised Hircine the Lord of the Hunt. I would be around my species-kin, and I would be home. A smile curved my lips, and I drifted off to sleep, and dreamed of standing on one of the mountains, gazing down at the town of the werewolves, then throwing back my head and howling victory to the moons and the stars.