-Chapter IX- The Hunted

-Open Skyrim

-22 First Seed

-4:36 A.M.

-Nicholas

The single sound of a dry stick snapping resounding through the air broke me from the trance that was sleep. The fingers' grip of the hand that I was using as a pillow tightened around the smooth handle of Max's knife. My palm, somewhat damp of perspiration, stuck to it, which I saw only as a stronger grip. I readied the small blade and braced myself either to run or, if the need arose, to fight. I felt my chest pound as my heartbeat grew more fierce with every second, my nerves causing my body to quietly shake, and adrenaline coursing through my veins. My breathing became increasingly unsteady as my fear overtook my body. Sweat coated my forehead and my feet were cold, yet damp with sweat.

I swallowed hard as I strained my eyes to attempt gazing through the veil of darkness that was night surrounding me, closing in as the bright-red glow of the fire's dying embers gradually faded in and out of existence. I listened closely in the direction in which the sound originated, hoping to hear something that would alert me of the being's coming or going. Without averting my gaze, I slowly stood, gathering my things and felt around for where my sword lied. Once I had found it, I removed the blade from its sheathe, which both glistened in the firelight, and hastily put my sword belt around my waist.

I was about to turn to run when I heard a goat. I looked over my shoulder to see the creature stare dumbly back at me, chomping on a large, green clump of wet, chewed grass. I sighed heavily, steadying my nerves. Still considerably shaky, I lowered my sword and turned back to my resting place. Once I had set my stuff back to where they were, I walked to the creature, which I had expected to be at least somewhat timid, but was surprised to see stand still, staring blankly at me as I moved. I stood over him, and simply placed my hand upon its forehead and began stroking it, feeling its thick, stiff fur as it ran through my fingers.

I couldn't help but laugh at myself, being so frightened by a harmless nordic mountain goat. I guess it must've came from Hrothgar... I thought, looking southward to the looming peak of High Hrothgar, the highest mountain in Skyrim, possibly even Tamriel and home to both the Greybeards and the dragon Paarthurnax. I took a deep breath of the clean, clear air of the pre-dawn hours of open Skyrim, allowing myself to temporarily forget about what I had just worried myself about and focus once again on the present. Once dawn broke at last and the sun's rays of light graced upon the dull, green landscape, I moved to stream not too far from where I had camped and wetted my throat, refreshing myself. Though the egg hadn't grown as much, it was still noticeably heavier, and the rock-like texture had softened slightly, as though it were a hard leather. After making sure the fire was out completely and stretching my stiff, sore limbs, I quitted the scene as soon as I could.

I sped through the field I was now in toward the horizon, still changing colors with rising of the sun, allowing it to slowly take hold of the land and banishing any darkness within its reach that still lurked about and submerging it in a beautiful, warm, pale yellow glow with all the colors of the spectrum shining from each object the light touched. After hours of watching the process, I found myself amazed at the results. Green jumped from the grass-layered ground; the sky's multitude of hues of blue was clear and free, with nary a cloud in the sky; a bright brown was displayed from the blotches of land where no grass grew and dirt showed to the bark on the trees. It was truly a wondrous scene, and more often than not scarce in the normally dully colored landscape of Tamriel. Everything was lovely, so much so that I couldn't help but slow my pace and and enjoy the serene picture, filling my heart with a renewed glory and hope. I closed my eyes to back in the sun's warmth as it engulfed my body. It seemed as though the joys in life weren't completely gone.

The joy and gratitude that I felt so deeply within my soul could not be expressed in any physical way, it seemed. For the period of time that I enjoyed the world, the worries that I had been dreading had vanished from my mind without a trace. My slowed pace slowly transformed to my resting on an old, weathered log. The tranquility of the scene was further expressed through my solitary state, with nary another being to break the silence. But still a loneliness bloomed, seeing that no one else was there for me to share the essence of the sight.

Most of the day was spent with very little accomplished that was productive, other than eventually drifting to a state of inner peace, conducted through yet again falling asleep and catching up on lost hours of rest. When I awoke again I was fully rested, and the sun wasn't quite at its peak in the sky indicating noon. Since it wasn't quite so just yet, I estimated that the time to be later in the morning to early stages of noon, possibly 10:00 or 11:00 in the morning. The field remained clear and bright, the only difference now was the presence of another form of life, a bulky elk standing tall and proud, just as I yearned to. A knot of envy developed within my chest, watching the freedom of the simple creature, while the only freedom I possessed was cut off from me, restricted through the girl that was to be my killer, whether it was only a phantom spawned from my imagination, becoming more real and tangible of a harmless phobia with every thought and fear that I displayed in my mind, or a threat in the real world, not to be reckoned with.

Either way I found myself screwed, either through my sanity being gradually drained away by a fragment of my imagination projecting needless fears into my conscience, or there was a homicidal maniac out for my life. I preferred the first possibility. I probably sat there for hours, pondering every possibility that stood before me as to whether I was in any real danger. I sighed as I got up and began moving forward toward my destination due east.

I decided to rest again for the night when I noticed the landscape around me engulfed in the sharp red tint of the setting sun. I looked to the horizon where the sun's position was, a portion of it hidden behind the hilly land, as though the sun itself was lying itself down to rest after its arduous daily journey across the sky. I sighed, still yearning to once again see the bright, beautiful, sunny noon it had been what seemed like mere seconds ago, but, readied my camp again for the night.

Repeating the same process as I followed the previous night, I soon had a large fire, seeming to me more of that of a bonfire, which I sat beside happily, enjoying not only the heat but the light that it gave off simultaneously. I was still not terribly exhausted, thanks to my rest that I had acquired few hours prior, and watched intently as the sun completed its task and disappeared from view completely behind the endless horizon, and soon the golden-red rays that it gave off too vanished before plummeting me in a world of nighttime, making it difficult to see past the never ending veil of darkness that now the land was submerged in, bathed in the moonlight that helped little to my vision. It seemed like my camp was but a miniscule dot of light.

I felt a depression overcome me. I was alone, and even though the solitary life seemed relaxing at first, I felt a strange longing, a want for company, perhaps. A companion, a friend, something, someone. Max had always been there for me when needed, and now that wasn't possible any longer, a concept that still seemed...inconceivable, just the thought of never being able to see him again, despite my expecting to see him there beside me when I turn, or his voice to warn me when I was about to do something wrong, or scorn me when I did wrong. I did my best to ignore the feeling of sorrow that pained my heart, but sometimes, more often than not, I still had to hold back the immense urge to tear up at his permanent absence. I only would swallow hard and desperately push aside the emotion.

The idea of leaving Whiterun seemed like a good idea, which it possibly was. There I was a sitting duck, soon to be a dead duck. I had to leave, but now I longed for my bed, for a surplus of fresh food and drink, for someone simply to talk to. Skyrim seemed like a paradise during the day, as the land in every way in any direction seemed like a glorious picture, but at night, that appeal transformed quickly into that of a hellish one. My stomach complained for the lack of food, I attempted to diminish, or at least dim, my hunger with few apples and the remainder of the sweet roll, but to hardly any avail. I sighed unhappily, now alone and hungry. Perhaps thinking this entirely through wouldn't have been such a terrible idea... I thought. I had expected to be able to hunt for my food, and with little animals seen so far, other than the elk I had observed earlier, but the thought of food hadn't come to mind during the hours of sunlight, for my main goal was only to find my way east. Now that the night has fallen, I've become prey to its grasp, eliminating any thought of leaving the at least somewhat safety of the light given off by the fire and leaving me defenseless in the darkness, where I'd obviously be at a disadvantage.

"Son of a bitch..." I said quietly to myself. I shook off the feeling of regret and decided to at least attempt at falling asleep, but not before feeding the fire more wood. I lied back, and closed my eyes, but for only a second before hearing a strange sound, almost of a tapping. I pressed my ear against the wood to amplify it, hoping to be able to recognize the strange taps. After a minute or two of listening to it, I soon began to deem it annoying, and instead decided to search for its source and at least muffle it if unable to stop it. I got up and looked about my cite, and began to look through my possessions when I heard a twig snapping. I let out an irritable sigh, "I swear if its the goat again..." I hissed through angrily clenched teeth.

About to turn my head in the direction I believed the snap to come from, I was abruptly stopped when someone grabbed my arm. I was in too much shock to react before a glistening dagger came into my view. In a single swiftly played move, my pursuer had a firm grasp upon my forearm and forcing it behind me while twisted, leaving me practically helpless. My legs were at an awkward position on the log, and was in pain as my left arm, twisted, was forced around my back until my left hand was able to grasp my right shoulder, and to top it off, the dagger was at my throat. I heard a pop in my arm and I couldn't feel much of anything in it other than the agonizing pain. Any attempt at moving my right hand not only hurt, but was quickly subdued when she pinned it down to the log with her knee; the point of the silver-bladed dagger graced my throat, as though only for it to stroke me lightly. Her warm breath caress the back of my neck in the chilled air of the night, dampening it making me feel all the more helpless.

I feared to even breath myself, knowing that if she even sensed any sort of resistance, she could easily slide the blade across my throat and off me there. Without a word, the assassin tried to hush my troubled breathing by placing a finger over my lips, and removed the blade from my throat, and began stroking my hair, as though I were simply a harmless cat. I surveyed what I had access to, which wasn't a lot. I couldn't reach for my sword nor my satchel, for any hope of getting Max's knife, only the log as that was my prison. Rocking back and forth with every abrupt movement either her or I made with all the weight placed on it, it wasn't hard to see that it was loosely placed in the dirt, and, as quickly as I could, used my pinned down hand and both legs with as much force as I could muster and pushed the log out from under me and behind me, throwing off my captor's balance and allowing me to throw her over my head and in front of me. To my disappointment, her landing was next to the still-burning fire rather than inside of it.

Only for a moment she rested on the ground, then her eyes shot open and she jumped to her feet. She seemed familiar, like I had known her for years, though I knew for a fact I couldn't have met her before, only her presence seemed nostalgic, while her appearance was completely anew. Her long, brilliant orange hair whipped about as she spun, and was continued to leap about with every move she made, her soft, blue eyes didn't seem to be focusing on me, but almost...beyond me, as though she were completely unaware I stood before her, and she was simply dazing off into Oblivion with blank expression, making them appear empty, with nothing but a vast, empty abyss without a soul. Her strikes were precise, yet considerably sloppy, too. She held the blade gingerly, despite the typical hold which requires a tight grip, and though her attacks were quick, they seemed off. I picked up my sword as she struck, bending down beneath her blow. She seemed pissed beyond control when this happened, and she skillfully twirled her dagger, weaving it through her fingers.

I began to walk backwards from my attacker, and in rebuttal she made a mad dash toward me, which I instinctively evaded, then spun in the dirt to thrust her dagger at me again. I was able to avoid this, but a second slash cut clean through my tunic and into my tender flesh, causing blood to begin gushing out of my chest. I clutched the wound and she struck again, which I rolled out of the way of and just barely missing contact with her blade and my shoulder. With my right arm still covering the wound, I held out my sword arm, my left arm, and went on the offensive myself. When I stomped on her foot and stuck her where she was, I believed to have an opportunity arise, and raised my sword before she pulled her foot from under mine, throwing me off balance and to the ground. She stood over me, victorious, and jumped over me with her dagger aimed directly at my throat. As she began to come down on me, I saw a chance, and took it. I grabbed her waist with my feet, and used the inertia of her fall as well as every bit of strength still left in my body, to smash her into the ground, sending a loud thud to reverberate throughout the brisk night air.

I got back to my feet, still in a daze, when I gathered enough energy, and stood over my foe. She still breathed. I took her dagger, and tossed it into the fire and watched as the red flame engulfed the blade, turning it red-hot. I still breathed heavily in fear, and watched over my opponent while she lied unconscious still. I quickly grabbed Max's knife from my satchel, and returned over her, ready to attack if the need arose. I sheathed my sword and silently stood over her, watching her, observing her details as to figure out the internal conundrum that questioned how I could recognize her. I must've stood over for a time, because eventually I saw her eyelids flicker, and heard her moan in pain. I drew a deep breath, I didn't want to kill her, not only because of the eternal struggle of the fact that I had killed someone, but it pained my heart simply fighting her and I couldn't imagine the troubles I'd face if I killed her. Something came over me, something I knew not, and I picked her up, ever so gingerly, and dropping the knife to the ground, the only sign that showed that it fell was a muffled thud into the grass.

When she fully awoke, I held her with both arms, keeping her from the ground. When her eyes opened, they were...normal, as though something came over her anew. She focused on me, wincing in pain that I could only assume was a headache, one had for a good reason, at that. Even stranger, I began to hear whispers in my ear as she appeared to have terror and confusion grasp her. The voices...there were thousands, millions, even...all chanting the same command.

Kill her.

Only for a moment I considered this, but quickly did I deny this option because of the strange feeling I had for the mysterious assassin. I could just not place why I'd want to kill her, or better yet, why I wouldn't. When I rejected killing her, something flashed before my eyes, and darkness overtook my sight for just a moment, before I had a vision of me mercilessly stabbing her in the stomach with the knife. Fear of this struck me like a stone, causing me to drop the girl and step away from her a few paces. Time itself seemed to stop when my eyes adjusted again and I found myself looking down again at the girl, who was, in fact, still alive and unharmed, other than the headache that I assumed returned to her upon impact to the ground seeing as she rubbed her closed eyes and wincing again. I began to feel pity towards her and regret my action of dropping her. I outstretched my arm to help her up, not knowing what to do or think.

I shook my head,"I'm...sorry." I said, helping her back to her feet. She still seemed dazed, and nearly fell again as she staggered. I contemplated in my head whether she was still a threat, or meant to be a threat at all, for it seemed she now was as helpless as a little girl, lost in an endless world. I felt her stomach as she leaned on me, obviously malnourished, and in much worse condition than my own, her knees shook as she stood, and her cheeks were sunk in. I couldn't help but feel as though her state was of my own doing, and I decided to help her, despite the actions she had just committed. I may have been raised to kill, I thought, but I know when killing isn't the right choice. As these thoughts of my own voice spoke this, I felt a great burden lift from my shoulders, and I felt...warm inside.

I guided her to the log beside the fire, practically carrying her myself because of her state, and set her down gently on the worn wood. I grabbed a few more larger pieces of firewood, careful not to turn my back on the mysterious girl, and fed the fire. It slightly grew, and crackled and popped in thanks. I sat on the ground, facing the girl through the fire, wondering what might have happened for her to be like this, and why she was sent to kill me. It had to have been something out of the ordinary, perhaps corruption, brainwashing, or maybe some sort of forced alliance or obedience spell, but apparently a strong blow to the head such as the one I had dealt was enough to knock the senses back into her. My mind was boggled and drowned in thoughts and a strange concoction of emotions that were confusion, fear, comfort, and depression that left me without words, and leaving the two of us alone in silence, only broken by the crackling of the fire, the buzzing of the torchbugs, that flew about as they lit their thoraxes among the night, the quiet footsteps of a rabbit, or the distant howling of the wolf on the hunt.

After minutes seeming to be hours of her, silently sitting in shame and fear, and me watching her, I at last gathered the strength to ease my still lingering fear, swallowed hard, and break the silence. "Who...who are you?" I asked softly.

Her eyes opened, and she looked up. She stared at me and I at her, then released me from her gaze by quickly switching to her hands, resting motionlessly upon her shoulders, as her focus. "I..." she said, nearly inaudible, "...I've no clue." she sounded as though she were about to break into tears. Her voice was soft and tender, and the image that came to mind upon hearing it was the lost little girl again, lost to the vast forest that endlessly surrounded her and speaking to another of her kind for the first time, yet with a somewhat more matured voice, belonging to the fifteen or sixteen-year-old girl that sat before me. "I'm...sorry..." she whispered solemnly. She gave a quick expression of shock before reaching into the sleeve of her cloak, and pulling out another dagger. My first reaction was to reach for my sword in caution, but relaxed when I saw her toss it behind her into the darkness with another muffled thud.

"Have you no memory of where you came?" I asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I know not...for the memories of my past evade me." She coughed dryly. "All that seems to be trapped within my mind consists only of trekking these lands to an unknown destination, for an unknown cause. This destination, and cause, I now understand was here, to kill you." she said with deep regret.

"I see..." I replied uneasily.

"Although..." she began, "I am still confused as to how I'm still alive." I looked at her. "After I had just tried to..."

"It's fine. It wasn't your decision to make, yes?"

She seemed confused as how to reply, then shook her head, "but how you could tell baffles me still..."

I didn't want to tell her that something about her seemed off, that she seemed not to have a soul, but I also didn't want to upset her. "I could...feel something strange about your presence. Like a dark aura surrounded you."

She seemed extremely aghast at this. She gasped, wide-eyed, and her lips quivered in shock as she began to speak again, "how...unique..." I nodded. "I thank you with the utmost sincerity for your mercy, kind sir...just as I admire your courage."

"My...courage?"

She nodded excitedly, "Yes, for if I were in your previous position, I'd be shaking in my shoes of fear still, being so close to the very essence of the cold, merciless, dark clutches of death."

I couldn't help but smile at the kind words that she spoke. I had never been admired before. Or, at least, by something I had actually done. "Thank you, although it's not exactly death itself that I fear, it is mostly the method of which the reaper decides to take me."

"Yet another reason for admiration." she said quietly. I looked up at her, staring down at the ground awkwardly, and she responded by returning the stare, "A warrior both merciful and fears not even death itself."

She gave an appreciative smile, which I returned. I looked down at my sword, still from its sheath and glistening in the faint crimson glow of the firelight, now beginning to falter to glowing coals that took the place of the larger bonfire that was there just a minute before, with heat barely lingering among the heated charred wood. Walking around the fire, I took another small abundance of wood from the pile I set beside the log where the mystery woman still sat, and place them neatly into the coals, catching fire almost instantaneously. I returned to my seat and sheathed my sword. We again sat in awkward silence, awaiting for the other to speak first, I suppose, because I dared not speak for reasons I knew not.

"By what are you called?" she asked.

I looked at her again, and she seemed now to return the gaze intently. "Nicholas." I said, "Nicholas Swiftsword."

She seemed dazed by the name, repeating it quietly to herself. "Nicholas Swiftsword..." she blinked a couple times, and returned to reality. "It is nice to meet you, Nicholas Swiftsword."

I laughed lightly, finding amusement in the use of my full name. "You may just cal me Nick." She nodded in understanding. "What is your name?"

She shrugged without a word. "I haven't a clue."

"What?"

"I've no memories of my past, not even simply a name."

I thought for a moment. "Is there something you wish to be called?" She only silently shrugged again. "Anything?" I asked, then, determined to help her, began to list different names I could think of. "Beverly?" She looked at me strangely. "Emily? Sarah? Tina, Lauren, Susan...um...Saria, Hannah..."

"Those sound almost American." she said.

"Well, a few are, I think." I began to think of names Max had told me from his past. "Uh...Tao? Anri?"

She laughed, "thank you, Nick. I'll...give it some thought myself. I like some of the names you suggested." she appeared exhausted. It was strange, although I still couldn't tell whether I could trust her completely, I couldn't help but feel pity towards her, and feel like I should do something.

I began to feel weariness begin to overcome me as well, and I lied on my back. "I...I'm traveling to Windhelm, northeast of where we are now..." I told her. "Would you like to accompany me...?"

That was the last thing I remember before blacking out.