Chapter Twenty-One:

Closing the Gap

It was dawn when I woke up. Light had begun to stream over the mountains, and even though my eyes were closed, I could see the sun. I didn't want to open my eyes to look at it. I was too exhausted.

I could barely remember what had happened the day before. Barely. Infiltrating the Thalmor Embassy and then seeing Arnand Bienne again were clear, but nothing else.

I shivered at the cold. I didn't know where I was, or why I felt like I was freezing my ass off, but I didn't feel like getting up to find out. It was hard enough to breathe as it was.

When I moved my left hand, I felt an intense pain in it. I could feel the warm blood trickling down my arm, but I didn't remember where I could've gotten the wound. Carefully, I opened my eyes, squinting from the rays of the sun. At the centre of my left hand was a wound from a sword, and it had gone straight through my hand. I was lucky that it hadn't damaged any bones. My right side was in pain too, and when I looked, there was a deep gash just above my waist. I was a mess.

And I was naked.

That little revelation instantly made my eyes widen. I scrambled into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in my side, and did my best to cover myself by holding my legs close to my chest. From what I could see, I was underneath a bridge that extended over a river. The only sounds were from that river and from the forest around it. Everything was green. The last I remember was from the white of the snow.

I heard someone approach. Instantly reddening, I scanned around with my eyes for a hiding spot, but it was a little late for that.

Milos came around the corner of the bridge and glanced at me. "I brought a blanket," he said, holding up the quilt.

I hung my head. I didn't know what had happened the night before, but something told me that Milos did. And from how Milos had said that one simple sentance, I assumed that he didn't like what had happened.

Milos draped the blanket over my shoulders, and I took great care to cover all of my being (except for my head) with it. He sat down beside me under the bridge and was quiet for a time. I hoped the blood on my side wasn't soaking through, or from my hand. I didn't want Milos to see that I got hurt. And then I remembered that Arnand had already cut my face, so there was really no point.

"Are you okay?" Milos asked finally. "Injuries?"

I nodded slowly. "Just a few."

"Do you want me to—?"

"Milos, a blanket is the only thing that's stopping your eyes from seeing my naked body. No."

He smirked and then rubbed a scaley hand gently on the right side of my face, where the wound still hurt a lot. I cringed when Milos touched the sensative flesh, and he pulled away.

"That'll scar," he said quietly. "Can't do much with magicka for it now. Just wait for it to heal and clean it up."

I carefully rubbed my tired eyes. I wanted to sleep, but the pain from my wounds would keep me awake even if I tried. Milos spotted the blood from my side on the blanket and then held out his hand, palm up.

"Hand please," he ordered softly.

I grabbed the blanket in my right hand and slipped my left hand out. It hurt a lot to move the hand, but not my arm. At least I was a bit lucky. Milos examined the wound with his eyes rather than his fingers, like he'd done with my face. He frowned, but not deeply. He knew something about the wound.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

Milos avoided my eyes when he answered. "That may not scar if I can get Javin here soon."

I tilted my head to the side. "Milos, look at me." He released my hand, but refused with silence. "Please, Milos..."

"I'll go find some clothes for you. Then we can—."

Despite the pain in my left hand, I grabbed the collar of Milos' armour and pulled him towards me, and then threw my left arm around him. I hugged him so tightly, with every bit of energy I could muster, in hopes that I could remember or figure out why Milos—Milos! Of all people!—was so sad.

"I don't know what happened," I admitted. "I don't remember. But whatever happened, I know you wouldn't be so sad without a reason. So just tell me what happened, so I can apologize for whatever did. I... I can't apologize for something I don't know about."

Milos sighed, and then pulled away from me. His brow furrowed in thought as he tried to find the words. What could be so bad that the words were caught in his throat?

He sat beside me, on my left, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, then leaned my head against his shoulder. "Don't freak out," he said. "And... you're not the one who should be apologizing."

Milos' eyes opened slowly. He groaned in pain as he raised his head from the ground, but forgot it as soon as he was on his feet. He couldn't see Taryn.

Milos staggered around, using trees to keep his balance. He couldn't see much through the darkness, and most of what he could see was snow, but there wasn't the form of the Imperial woman he knew so well.

"Cha'qim heard a noise." The Khajiit he'd seen with Taryn hopped down from a nearby tree. "She came back to see the Argonian lying in the snow, but no Imperial. What happened?"

"Someone knocked us out," Milos explained. "When I woke up, Taryn wasn't with me."

"Cha'qim believes she can find your friend," she said. "What about her other friends?"

"Taryn's? Hiemdall should be in Whiterun right now—."

Cha'qim nodded. "Good," she said quickly. "Get the friends. Cha'qim believes that she can find the kidnappers within the next few hours, but you must hurry to Hiemdall."

Milos reluctnantly nodded and started sprinting to Whiterun, but when he reached the settlement of Dragon's Bridge, he stopped to hire a courier. He would be faster than an Argonian in heavy armour, and the fact that he had a horse only made it better.

Milos only waited an hour before Hiemdall sprinted into Dragon's Bridge, drenched in sweat, followed closely by the Companion woman named Aela.

"Taryn?!" he exclaimed, gasping for air.

"I have someone looking for her right now," Milos assured him. "How'd you get here so fast?!"

"I ran."Hiemdall used the gigantic bridge for support. "How long... do we wait?"

"I dunno." Milos ran a hand across his head, rubbing the horns. "I just hope—."

"Cha'qim has discovered the location, Argonian." The Khajiit jogged up to the group of three, giving a toothy smile. "She has found Taryn, but we all must hurry. She's not in the best of shape at the moment."

The three followed Cha'qim closely, but Milos' heavy armour held him back. When Hiemdall stopped for him, Milos told him not to bother. Someone needed to get to Taryn quickly, and he'd be there eventually. Hiemdall was reluctant, but did as Milos told him.

By the time Milos had caught up with Cha'qim, she was hiding in a tree, frightened by something. Milos looked inside the lonely cabin that Cha'qim had obviously led Hiemdall and Aela to and saw two corpses. One had been stabbed with a blade, and the other was a mess, as if something had ripped the poor guy apart. But there was a pool of blood around a lone chair in the middle, and ropes that had obviously been cut were lying in that pool.

Milos panicked. "Where'd they go?!" he yelled up to Cha'qim.

Recovering her wits, Cha'qim clid down the trunk of the tree. "Follow Cha'qim!"

The Khajiit led Milos through a wooded area, where more blood was present. He hoped it wasn't Taryn's, but something told him that it was. The knowledge did nothing to quell his fears.

A howl sounded through the night, followed closely by growling. Milos emerged into a clearing where two gigantic wolves circled each other, growling and snapping their teeth. One of them was shaking its head every so often, as if trying to clear it. He knew that they weren't just wolves, but Werewolves.

"Milos!" Hiemdall hissed. "Get back!"

Hiemdall was in-between the wolves as they growled, holding out his hands as if to stop them should they charge. However, the Werewolves weren't interested in him.

"What the hell're you doing?!" Milos started forward, but Cha'qim grabbed his arm to stop him. At least she knew the danger.

But it didn't stop one of the Werewolves. It turned to face him, baring its teeth and flattening its ears against its head.

"Not a good idea!" Hiemdall was trying to communicate with the Werewolf, but it ignored him. "Don't do this! You'll regret it later!"

The Werewolf roared and charged at Milos. Quicker than the Argonian, Cha'qim used her claws to climb up the nearest tree. Milos, however, grabbed the greatsword off of his back and lunged forward. He missed the beast's head, but instead stabbed its hand right through; the one that would have tossed him around if he hadn't been lucky enough to hit it.

The Werewolf roared again but continued forward at Milos on its hind legs, lunging at him with its teeth. Milos punched it in the head and then pulled his greatsword out, retreating a few steps. Hiemdall leapt onto the Werewolf's back and wrapped his arm around its neck, screaming at it, but the Werewolf shook him off and threw him into a tree. The other Werewolf launched itself forward, but the first expertly dodged it and ran at the downed Hiemdall.

Milos ran after it, dodging around the other Werewolf. By some miracle, Milos managed to slide in front of Hiemdall before the Werewolf got there. Milos slammed his greatsword into the Werewolf's side with everything he had, and was surprised that the beast hadn't been sliced in half.

However, he'd done the damage he needed to. The Werewolf retreated, whining in pain, and then started sprinting away on all fours. The other Werewolf looked ready to give chase, but stopped when it was Hiemdall. He was groggily getting to his feet, and then shook his head.

Milos grabbed Hiemdall's arm and hefted him up. "Where's Taryn?!"

Hiemdall pushed Milos away. "You idiot!" he snapped. "Didn't I tell you to stay away?! You've just made things way more difficult!"

More forcefully, Milos grabbed Hiemdall's arm. "Where the hell is Taryn?!"

Hiemdall frowned and ran a hand through his blonde hair, crouching. "You're not gonna like the answer."

"Cha'qim believes that Taryn escaped. Hiemdall probably told her to go while he got the attention of the Werewolves," Cha'qim said as she slid down from the tree. "Sorry. Cha'qim is not good with dogs, but this one does not want to attack us."

As if in agreement, the Werewolf barked and dropped on all fours.

"So now, the Werewolf is probably going after the weaker prey," Cha'qim continued. "And if Taryn had been kidnapped, knocked-out, and attempted escape, this makes her weaker prey."

"Yeah, that Werewolf's getting Taryn over my dead body!" Milos started after it, where he believed the Werewolf had gone last.

Hiemdall ran ahead of Milos and slipped in the snow. "Milos, don't go after it!"

"I need to protect Taryn!"

"Bloody good job you've done so far!"

Milos' eyes narrowed on the Nord. He grabbed his armour and slammed Hiemdall against a tree. "I may be bad at timing, but by the Eight I'm going to help Taryn!"

"You want to help her?! Then listen!" Hiemdall put his hands on Milos' arm. "Put me down, and I'll tell you how you can help." Reluctantly, Milos lowered Hiemdall, but didn't remove his hand. "First, do you have a blanket?"

"I have one in my pack."

"Good. Get that. Do you have any balm or potions, either?"

Milos shook his head. "Javin has them. Said he'd hold onto them."

"Okay, then we'll get Javin." Hiemdall shook Milos' hand off. "It'll be less than an hour until sunrise. Wait until then."

"But Taryn—!"

"—Will be fine until then," he interrupted. "You have my word, Milos. I promise you." Milos nodded slowly, and Hiemdall looked at the other Werewolf. "Follow," he said quietly.

The Werewolf bounded off, following the scent of the other Werewolf and its tracks in the snow. Milos and the others waited only a while before they heard howling, and the rays of the sun peeked over the mountains.

"Where's Aela?" Milos asked.

Hiemdall smiled. "She's looking for the other Werewolf."

"You mean...?"

Nodding, Hiemdall rummaged for the blanket in Milos' pack. "Yep. She's the Werewolf you saw."

"But how—?"

"A few of the members are Werewolves," Hiemdall explained. "Only the exclusive members though. Myself included."

"You're a Werewolf?"

"Duh. Why did you think Aldren can't stand the smell of me?"

"I thought you just stunk in general."

He grinned wider. "Well, I'm glad that someone isn't running away."

"My parents became Werecrocodiles after I was born. Werewolves aren't much of a difference. Just hairier."

Hiemdall rubbed the stubble on his face. "What about Taryn?"

"She didn't know her parents. Decided not to find out after a few years. She didn't want to know the people who didn't bother to try and know her, or even find her."

"Harsh."

"She was worse when she was younger. Always the rebel."

Hiemdall looked at the sky. "Hm. About that time then." He handed the blanket to Milos. "I'll go see Javin. You just make sure to get this to Taryn."

"I don't see how she'll need it."

"Trust me; you'll see in a minute."

I gripped the blanket tighter and stared at the ground, as if my gaze could make a hole for me to throw myself into. Then again, there was a river right in front of us.

"And where did the Werewolf go?" I asked quietly. I wasn't stupid; I knew the answer. It was just that I needed to hear it. I couldn't assume it. I needed to hear it.

"I don't know where it went, but you're here." Milos rested his head against mine. "That's all that matters to me."

The emotions inside me overflowed. I couldn't contain them anymore. Rage, confusion, sadness... That was all I felt then. The sense of "self" I'd formed and managed to take hold of in Cyrodiil after several years had completely deteriorated during the few weeks I'd been in Skyrim. I didn't know who I was any longer. I just started to cry, and when it started, I couldn't stop it. It was all too much in too short a time. The life I had was spinning out of control and on a collision-course, and all I could do was stand and watch.

It was a while after that Hiemdall came with Javin. Aldren, Cha'qim, and Aela were in tow. Javin took one look at me and shooed everyone else away as he reached into his pack and pulled out health potions and bandages, and also some clothes that Hiemdall had asked him to bring. Simple clothes, not armour. Javin wouldn't let me change into them until he'd treated me, but he at least let me get some underwear on.

The gash in my side was worse off than my hand, so he treated that first. He didn't bother to ask where I'd gotten it from. I had a sinking feeling that Hiemdall must have explained what was going on.

I furiously rubbed another stupid tear away while Javin was bandaging up my side, having finished with healing it with magicka and forcing me to drink the gross-tasting health potions. He sighed and put a hand on top of my head, and then rubbed it affectionately.

"Everything will be all right," he said.

I really wanted to believe him. When Javin was ready to work on my hand, he allowed me to get dressed in the tunic, pants and boots that were brought. Javin then healed up my hand, but he told me there'd be a scar on my side and my hand. He didn't have to tell me that about the one on my face.

Javin examined my face much like Milos had. When he gently rubbed the sensative flesh, I winced, but that only made it hurt more. Even crying made it hurt. Javin used magicka to knit the flesh together and then rubbed some salve on the new scar, in hopes to dull the pain. I looked like I'd fought in the Great War against the Thalmor, or at least fought in the Civil War here in Skyrim.

When he was finished, I asked Javin if I could have some time alone. I needed to think. Javin obliged and promised to tell the others to give me some space for a while. I just hoped that they'd listen. Especially Milos.

I climbed up onto the bridge and just stared at the river for a while. I didn't even know where I was, but I could still see the Throat of the World. At least I knew that we were still a ways off from it.

I balled my hands into fists. I didn't know how I could become a... well, a monster, but I knew that I'd never been bitten. I'd never turned at a full moon, I'd never had a special fetish for killing people, I just... I wasn't sure how it was possible. I grabbed a rock on the bridge and tossed it furiously at the river, as if such a simple thing could wipe away my problems. But I knew it wouldn't.

Thane of Whiterun, Dragonborn, Ysmir, orphan, Imperial... Werewolf. I covered my face with my hands, attempting to avoid the new and sensative scar on my face. I just wanted to hide from the world and its titles. Couldn't I just be me without something happening to define who I was? Why couldn't life just be simple? Milos was even refusing to look me in the eye now. Why? Was he so afraid of me now that all he saw was the Werewolf? All of my problems just kept piling up and multiplying. I would never be free of them.

"Shit..." I muttered. That about summed up how I was feeling.

I kicked the bridge and then started to pace. How was I going to move forward? Normally, as if nothing had changed? I sure as hell didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but it was a big deal. That'd be irresponsible and stupid if I ignored it. But acknowledging it... Whatever was left of the original "me" would surely die off if I did.

Whatever happened, I needed to make a decision. The Dragons weren't going to wait, and neither were the Thalmor who were after Esbern, and I definitely wasn't going to make Delphine wait again. I needed to make a decision.