WARNING: VERY GORY/DISTRUBING!
Hunger. I opened my eyes on a dark world, and felt my jaws part in a snarl. Food. I needed food. I drew in a long breath, scenting the air. Where was the prey? Close…no. I struggled out of the skins of wolves and bears, snarling and snapping at them in my annoyance. No food here, just the down and hair of dead prey. Where was I? I turned, almost completely hunched over in the small cavern, looking around. Was I trapped…No…I felt the cold night breeze caress my fur, and I whirled towards it, seeking the exit. I surged through the small opening, desperate to be out in the open.
The sky above was heavy with snow clouds, promising a harder hunt. I must be quick, then, and make my kill before the snow blinded me. I took several steps into the open area, head thrown back, scenting the wind. There! The sweet smell of flesh and warm blood, many, many two-leggers to the north, not a mile away. Tonight, I would feast well. I fell to all fours, trotting towards the scent of warm blood, my heart already praising the Lord Hunter for this hunt.
It didn't take long to reach the source of the scent, but when I did, my heart fell. They were behind a strange barrier of rocks and ice, not like a regular wall, but not like the random scattering of boulders over the landscape. But holding them at bay were a great number of my kind, their muzzles wet with blood, their throats echoing with their snarls as they prevented the two-leggers from leaving.
I hesitated, noting that many of the other werewolves were huge males, stronger than I was; I owed them my submission. But I was hungry, and they had already gorged themselves, if the blood on their muzzles and claws was any indication. What could they want with these few, besides to toy with them? I was hungry, and I would have my fill, huge males or no huge males.
And so I entered into the barrier of ice and rock, hackles high, a snarl on my jaws directed to the males who surrounded the prey. To my astonishment, they lowered their heads in submission, not challenging me as I walked forward, to the first of the prey they held captive. I couldn't help but bury my muzzle into the fur atop its head, breathing in deeply.
It was a female, a strong female, with the scent of ice and mead and war around her…and the smell of fear. She feared me. I smiled, then drew my head back from its fur, walking around to face it full on. Its hands were bound in front of her, and so were its ankles. It couldn't fight even if it wanted to…but it didn't want to; it was too afraid, and knew that even if it could flee, I would hunt it down…Prey…
Perhaps I would have been content with just that death, if one of the males hadn't snarled at another of the prisoners, reminding me that there were others, none of whom the males wanted. I stepped forward eagerly, and gutted open the two-legger who had tried to move out of the circle of werewolves. And then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned towards yet another two-legger with the thought of a hunter foremost in my mind: Kill.
From there on, I lost myself in the bloody, savage dance of hunter and hunted, rejoicing in the ease and power of my kills. Part of me hated the fact that the kills were so easy, like slaughtering tame guar, but even if I had wanted to heed that part, I wouldn't have. The allure of blood and death was too strong, my need for satisfaction too overpowering. I killed freely, again and again, until all I knew was the hot smell of blood and the feel of life ending and the sound of my own savage growls and snarls.
What the hell am I DOING! The thought was sudden, and my consciousness flooded back to me. I looked over at the last of the prisoners, a terrified Redguard, and swallowed hard, not wanting to look behind me. But look I did, at the snow that was crimson with blood and the nine bodies in a jagged line and the bright eyes of the male werewolves, who approved of what I did.
Never before had I descended into the mindlessness of bloodlust; I had always known who I was, what I was doing, and why. I had never killed nine innocent men and mer in a single night, much less a single hour. At least, until tonight. What horrified me was not the fact that I did it, but the fact that I loved it, and given the opportunity, would do it again. I saw now the lure of the life that the rogue werewolves must lead, the addictiveness of true bloodlust; taking not just a single kill a night, but as many as possible, to go on a bloody rampage…
All these realizations took but a heartbeat, and then I turned on my tail and fled from Hrothmund's Bane, forcing myself to sprint despite the throbbing pain still in my shoulder and flank. I love the bloodlust, I love to kill. I'm dangerous, I'll be a danger to the pack, they'll have to kill me, I won't let them I'll kill myself first yes tonight now…My thoughts were frantic as I bolted north, limping on my bad legs, tail between my legs, ears flat against my scalp. How to kill a werewolf, how to commit suicide jump off a cliff no too risky might survive I can swim after all. Fight a plague bear or a Riekling no I'm too strong, I kill them all the time with no problems. Show myself to the Skaal and let them kill me NO I'm not going through that again besides Thunder might still be there don't want to put him in danger.
Behind me, I heard the silvery notes of my species-kin lance through the air, and I shivered, They're going to come after me now kill me for showing true bloodlust maybe I should give myself up to them no don't want them to live with the guilt of executing me, must find a way to avoid them…so cold so cold this far north the cold! Wait till morning let myself freeze good as way as any foolproof if I don't fight it I won't fight it I deserve death…
Even as those thoughts were racing through my mind, I was turning northwest, scrambling over boulders of ice and stone, weaving around those I could not climb, doing my best to make my trail as elusive as possible. Third aspect of the hunter, his guile, outsmart your hunters…Over rocks, squeeze between monoliths, lose the scent, lose yourself… I bruised my still-healing ribs as I wiggled between two of the monoliths, then paused.
I could scent the promised snow heavy in the air, could feel the cold wind cut through my fur. This would be a blizzard of massive proportions. What better to cover my tracks, and ultimately to end my life? In fact…a small, shallow cave hunkered just behind me, hidden by the monoliths, like a hand had taken a scoop out of the mountain side. Wait…there were no mountains with sides this high and this steep this far north-west; there was the glacier…but it had collapsed a year ago, after the Bloodmoon Prophesy had been fulfilled and the Hunter banished from this plain, denied full power…there was no doubt in my mind that he had some power here, on the island that was his hunting grounds, but not enough to walk in true form.
I craned my head back, and I squinted up through the softly swirling snow, trying to find the top of the sheer cliffs. Perhaps…only the center collapsed, where the Hunting Grounds were…? I didn't know either way, nor did I care much. Some of us had felt compelled to work with Hircine's Hounds, the werewolves who were fervently faithful, but I had not been one of them. Good thing, too, for most of the Hounds had been killed during or at the end of the Prophesy by one warrior or another. And besides, it was they who caused the most trouble to the normal people, and they who were hunted close to extinction. The rest of us kept our heads down and out of sight, and so saved our own skins; what the colonists and the Skaal warriors didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
Hunt Lord, had I shattered that philosophy into tiny pieces with insisting that we help find Hethan! Perhaps it wasn't meant to be, I mused as I huddled down in the small cave. Perhaps we weren't meant to reveal ourselves to the normal people, weren't meant to be a true pack yet, weren't meant to form the town of Thunder's dreams. I sniffed back a tear, curling up tight next to the rock, my tail flicking up to cover my nose. And if that was the case, then I was better off dead then living on the mercy of Eponis White-heart or Irwaen Ebony or even Adian Thunder. I closed my eyes, sheltered against the worst of the wind and the worst of the cold by rocks and fur, and fell into a kind of slumber, waiting for morning.
"What are you doing here? Are you one of mine…Yes, yes you are. I can scent it on you. But you are not one of mine…but then, there are so few of them now." A deep sigh echoed through my mind before the strong voice continued, "But still I ask you, what are you doing here? Surely you know that I can do nothing but speak to you…Ahh…I see…"
I felt the voice or the presence or whatever it was shift through the thoughts in my mind, tugging at the one of my suicide. It was an odd feeling, and I felt the voice go quiet, which was even odder. "I cannot allow this." It—he?—finally declared. There are too few of mine left for one to go off and kill herself! Especially for such a folly! No, don't you dare argue with me, you insolent little pup! I don't care what you thought, and I don't care how 'right' you think you are! YOU WILL OBEY ME!"
I whimpered at the resounding shout, and even as I cringed deeper into my hole I marveled at how the sound was able to echo in my mind. Almost in sympathy, the voice spoke softer, "But how am I to work this…there are none of mine close by to do my bidding, and I cannot summon them…hmmm…a quandary, little pup. No matter, I shall figure something out."
For a long time, the voice was silent, and I turned my attention back to the outside world. All I could see in any direction was white, the occasional swirling of snowflakes. The blizzard was upon us; woe to any unprepared for its fury. My black pelt was thick and warm, and so for now, I was safe. But when morning came, and I lost the pelt, the snow and the cold if not the blizzard would still be heavy and strong. My survival without intervention was doubtful, just like I'd planned.
"Hell's-bells, I can't see my claws in front of me in this mess." I looked up at the growl, and peering through the snow, could just catch a glimpse of russet fur through the storm. "How're we supposed to find her? They lost her trail when the snow started, and now that we can't see…"
"Hircine alone knows," another voice growled. "But we need to find her before morning. You know the punishment if we don't…"
"From who: Thunder, Elder, or Firebrand? They'd all have our pelts stretched on their walls," the first voice drawled.
"Right. So we'll just have to do our best. Come on, I think this way's north…" The blurry russet forms vanished, and the voices faded, taken by the wind. I sighed in relief even as I laughed inwardly; what irony for them, to be so close to me, and yet to walk right by.
I yawned, stretching out as much I could, and laid my head back down, eyes sliding shut once more, tail over my nose to keep out the cold. Just before I feel back into sleep brought by the snow, I both felt and heard horns blowing…light, high trumpets of royalty and rich, mellow rams-horns of the hunt and even the deep, reverberating call of a great-horn. But then the white of the blizzard faded to black, and I knew no more.