The wind rustled through the trees, the leaves whispering to each other, secerts of ages past. The sun was setting and the last rays of fires light broke through the dense treeline, sending shafts of light through the thick blanket of mist. A lone wolf roamed through the trees, weaving and bobbing over the lush ground. The sky was a deep and rich violet, the first stars begining to twinkle over head. It was blissfully still. There were no birds singing. Tension was building in the atmosphere, the wolf paced, his eyes glowing mucsles rippling. Something was about to happen.
Caillech curled her fingers around frost covered leaves on the ground, the cold nipping at her fingers, her silver wolf head ring glinting the dim light. Her heart was pounding in her chest, head tipped back to the heavens above, her eyes closed. She crouched near the earth, poised on her toes, her arms straight, lifting her chest up. The wind caressed her bare skin, and the sun's last light made her olive tone gleam like gold. Three white scars marred her curved lips and thin chin, over her heart shaped jaw line, almost reaching down to her throat. A dark freckle accented her full lower lip on the right side. The light hit her high cheek bones, making them glow a warm rose.
The sun finally dissapeared completely, washing the ground in silver, the full moon gleamed overhead. The mist around Caillech's body shimmered a glowing mystic light, it was dense and almost heavy. Her eyes flew open as a wolf's low howl rose into the air. They were glowing with a light of their own in the gathering darkness. Her body began to tremble and her jaws parted, her canines had elongated slightly. More howls began to join the first, the mixing tones becoming a full chorus of wolf song. Caillech's breath caught in her throat. Unable to contain herself any longer, she let her voice ring out through the dense trees. Her soprano howl joined the others, sounding clear and beautiful through the rest. Endorphines rushed through her blood, making her light headed and a ripple of pleasure uncurled down her spine. She pushed her voice louder and called to the moon and to The Lord of the Hunt himself.
"Caillech, my Champion," A voice sounded behind her, and she turned. He stood there, dressed in a fur loin cloth, bare chested and clutching a long spear. His large wolf sat beside him, it's yellow eyes boring into her. The Lord's face was hidden behind his elk skull helm, the ivory bone gleaming in the moonlight, decorated with ancient Daedric carvings and runes. Caillech rose to her feet, and dipped into a low bow, greeting the Daedric Prince.
"My Lord, Hircine." She breathed the name, rolling the R off of her tounge leisurly. He scoffed at her, almost affectionately. He closed the distance between them and lifted her chin to make her look up at him. His height made him tower above her, her neck strained to accomedate looking up at the Daedric Lord. His bright ice blue eyes seemed to glow from beneath his helm, through the empty eyesockets of the skull. Hircine's long finger nails caressed her smooth skin, his fingers gripping her chin gently, tracing the scar from the corner of her upper lip to her lower. His skin was the color of the silver mist around them, ashen and gleaming.
Using the deadly tip of his hunting spear, he pushed the front of his helm up to reveal his face. His features were strong and angular, a pointed chin, full curved lips, a long perfectly straight nose, and almond shaped eyes. His lips were twisted into a crooked grin and the sight of it made Caillech uneasy, her stomach twisting into a knot. His blue eyes were glowing with a hunters ferocity, boring into her soul. His hair was long and as black as a ravens feathers, it drapped over his muscular shoulders, and touched Caillech's cheek as he looked down at her. Blood red war paint was drawn across his elegant features, twisting and curling under his eyes and over his high cheekbones. Dark tattoos with similiar designs, wrapped around his large biceps and over his broad chest. Four small horns curled from his forehead, two longer and curling back like a ram's, accompanied by two smaller stubs. His ears were long and pointed, daedric charms and chains dangling from them. He was a striking figure to behold, and dangerously tempting.
He purred to her in his native and ancient daedric tongue. Voice was low and dangerous, the sound of it made a chill errupt across Caillech's skin, she balled her hands into tight fists, her knuckles turning white as snow. She was his Champion. She had unknowingly tracked the aspect of him for months, the elusive white stag always one step ahead. She had heard rumors of a white stag and promised herself she would make the hide hers. With a skilled shot, she sent an ebony arrow singing through the air, embeding it into the side of the stag's skull. Triumphent, she had rushed to the side of the great white beast. Only to be greated by a shimmering ghost of the Daedric Prince himself. He congradulated her on her succesfull hunt, then proceded to order her to use her skills to join a hunt for one of his werewolves, to gain his favor.
Caillech had followed his instructions, tracking the group of hunters, tracking the werewolf. She had followed them into the cave the beast was hiding in, in a moment of savegry, she had turned on her fellow hunters, lurking in the shadows and assassinating them one by one. Taking her time with each, watching the panic set into them, and tasting the fear that built in the air. After the hunter's laid dead, she turned on the werewolf, ripping his hide from his body after she had slit his throat. Caillech had stood, shaking with anxiety, and to her horror, pleasure. Hiricine had appeared before her, in a very physical apperition. He praised her vehemently for "turning the hunt inside out" and teaching the hunters the fear of being the hunted. He gave her enchanted armor he made from the werewolf's hide, and gave her his ring. Hircine had then kissed her, and blessed her with his gift of lycanthropy. She was then his.
"The Hunting Grounds is waiting anxiously for a brother." He whispered the sentence in her ear, "And one of my son's wants to rid himself of my gift." His lips touched her forehead gently. Caillech closed her eyes and a low growl vibrated up from her chest and through her parted lips. Her breath was a cloud of vapor that caressed the Prince's skin. "Help him, for then you will have the family you deserve." he whispered. Her eyes fluttered open and all she could see were his ice blue eyes boring into hers.
"Yes my Lord," she whispered. He smiled at her, his long pointed canines glinting in the light of the orange moon above them.
"Good girl." his voice purred and he pressed his lips against hers gently, claiming her.
Chest constricting painfully, Caillech gasped and sat bolt upright, struggling to catch her breath. The furs on the cot she slept in were suffocating and she scrambled away from them, pushing them from her body. Her skin was slicked with sweat, her long dark hair plastered to her face. In her rush to escape the stiffeling furs, the cot beneath her suddenly dissapeared and she fell to the floor with a thud. Her head struck the bedside table, sending her tankard of water and silver plate crashing to the floor.
Groaning and rubbing the lump that was forming on her skull, Caillech knelt on the floor beside her bed. She looked around the dark room, trying to remember where she was. There was a large wardrobe across from her, and a wooden table. On the table her armor rested, and above it on the wall, was an iron sheild with two Skyforge greatswords crossed behind it.
Jorrvasker... she thought to herself, taking deep breaths, attempting to slow her pounding heart. Kodlak Whitemane, the Harbinger of the Companions had offered Caillech and Serana a place to stay for as long as they were in Whiterun. She must remember to thank him again for not making them sleep at the Bannered Mare. The inn was a lovely establishment, but drinking, singing, and fights broke out almost every hour throughout the day and night. She and Serana had both slept for almost two days straight, rising only to find food at the small hours of the morning. They were in seperate rooms now, her cousins Farkas and Vilkas had insisted they sleep in their chambers. They were sleeping out in the hall, on the wooden benches that lined the walls.
Caillech leaned back against the bed, extending her legs out in front of her, tipping her head back to rest on the soft furs. She closed her eyes and took several more deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. It wasn't the first time Hircine, the Daedric Prince of the Hunt, had summoned her to his Hunting Grounds. She visited his relm a almost once a month in her dreams. It always left her unhinged. In her dreams, she was always eager to do his bidding and entranced by the dremora Lord. But in her waking hours, it was unsettling, the fact the Daedric Lord seemed to be so infatuated with her. Or maybe he was just playing games with her. She almost hoped that was the real reason he kept calling her to him. Maybe he did this with a few others who worshiped him.
Crawling back into the bed and bundling herself into the warm furs, she sighed and closed her eyes. She didn't even really worship him. She had never followed any specific divine. She believed in the Nine, and knew the Daedric Lords were real and powerful, but she never worshiped any. She prayed to them all in times of need, but she wasn't religious. Caillech sighed and rolled onto her back lifting her arms above her head and furrowing her brow.
The Hunting Grounds is waiting for a brother... A son wants to rid himself of Hircine's gift. Caillech wondered what Hircine ment by that. Is the son who wanted to be free of the Daedric Lord, the brother the relm was waiting for? Are they two seperate men? Caillech struggled to keep her eyes open, sleep coaxing her towards her loving arms. Maybe she should write her dream down, so she would remember the details. Darkness swallowed her gently, tucking her into it's comforting folds. In the morning. She would write it down in the morning.