Skyrim Audio-Adventure

Chapter 10

"The Beast Within"

One, two, three, four, five, six... turn. One, two, three, four, five, six... turn. The hunter was pacing back and forth across the smooth stone floor of the temple. His ankle had been healed but it still felt unsure. The floor of the temple was immaculate, at the edges and in the side rooms it was the standard arrangement of pine planks, but in the main chamber it was multi-shade mosaic of smooth tiles. If he could ever call a stone luxurious this would be it. It was so smooth and pleasing to the touch he wondered if he could even call it soft; then he wondered why it wasn't slippery. Here and there the floor dipped down to shallow pools of water just deep enough to submerge oneself if laying flat. The pools, fed by Whiterun's secondary spring, were surrounded by pillars inlayed with abstract glyphs, under murals of stained glass depicting natural forms that managed to be both familiar and ambiguous.

The hunter blinked deliberately several times, feeling the healed cut over his eye. It felt a little scratchy and he swore the blinking action had gotten louder, maybe it's just cause he was focusing on it. He promised himself this would be his last scar for a while; he would have liked to say "for ever" but that just wasn't realistic. Turning his thoughts away from that, he focused on the cool stone under bare feet and the subtle wind that brushed across his bare chest as it wandered through the temple hall. A window must be open somewhere. He was wearing only a light pair of pale flaxen trousers the priests had given him for his recovery, it was the garb of the delivered, the benefactors of Kynereth's mercy. The wayfarers and traveler lost to the tides of fate now brought home and whole once again. Along with the matching shirt the flaxen garb was probably the nicest thing he'd ever worn and he was debating the pros and cons of accidentally walking away with them.

He signed, turned and continued pacing. He took several easy calming steps and then a few staggered fencing steps. One, two, three, four, five, six... four, five six... turn. Bracknel, Aela and Athis had emphasized footwork a lot during practice but now he was having trouble remembering the patterns. He focused on the basics, balance, width and mobility; don't get caught flatfooted and always be prepared to move off the center line.

He'd been here a couple days recovering and a dabbled grey noon was passing by outside. His ribs were fine, his wrist was fine, everything was fine, and still his heart raced. He'd noticed that after being healed through arcane means his injuries had a tremulous weak feeling like the tendons and muscles were trying to relearn their jobs. As troubling as it was that he had been injured enough to make this observation it was not what had him so perturbed.

Someone or something had spared him? Helped him? Hidden him? Almost killed him? He was alive and that was lucky, but if what the priests said was true he'd almost had his skull crushed. What in all Nirn was he supposed to make of this? He wasn't sure but he knew who he wanted to ask. One, two, three, four, five, six... turn.

"I see the priests are still doing fine work."

The hunter paused at the unexpected yet unmistakable voice, "I'm sure you'd know," he turned to see Carlotta's soft smile and sooty dress, "after all selling crops is a calling fraught with peril."

"You don't see many elderly crop mungers do you?" The widow grinned at him, "It's good to see you up and about."

"Well I'm up, not quite about yet." the hunter said stepping over to a pile of his things lumped at the base of a pillar, he grabbed the flaxen shirt and threw it over his torso. When he turned around Carlotta had taken a seat on a bench adjacent to healing pools. He joined her, gingerly settling himself onto the smooth wood.

Carlotta took in the temple, all brimming with history set aglow but the light diffusing through the windows and sighed "I always liked it in here."

"Were you a healer?"

"No, just like the atmosphere, I never had the aptitude for magic."

"Neither do I but, there are other ways to heal than magic."

"True but none that pay as well as selling crops."

"Hm," the hunter grunted, looking around the temple briefly "Where's Mila?"

"Her and Lars Battle-born are manning the stall while I visit you. Ysolda's keeping an eye on the coffers."

"Battle-born?" the hunter's ear twitched at the name. "His family owns that farm I was in."

"Not just that farm, the Battle-borns are probably the most affluent family in all of Whiterun."

"Really? So that's why you're not worried about her?"

"The guards do good work and nothing would ever happen to the youngest of the Battle-borns. That said I do feel guilty."

"What for?"

"Even though it doesn't look like it most days, I do need Mila's help. The work can be a slog and she can pull her weight when I ask her, not to mention we protect each other in a million subtle ways... but it's wrong. Honestly if I could I'd have her apprentice here I would. She could find work as a caretaker or even study the restoration school of magic if she has the aptitude. Maybe then she could grow up and out, beyond the dirt and grime."

The hunter listened quietly to the anxieties of the widow nodding along softly as he did. "I figured playing around in the dirt and grime was pretty natural for a kid her age."

Carlotta rolled her eyes suppressing a smirk, "Oh you know what I mean."

"I do, I also know that you've had your fair share of misfortune and you've made the best of it. You've been brave enough, smart enough and strong enough to go it alone. You put Mila first and never wavered. I know I barely know you but i'm just saying what I see... you're a good mother. Mila is lucky to have you."

Carlotta was quiet beside him while he calmly stared ahead. When he finally look over to her she tossed her head back with a heavy sniff that may have belied tears. "Thanks," she said tight voiced before clearing her throat and looking back at him. "I appreciate it."

"No problem, I also need to thank you for dragging me back here the other day."

"You don't need to thank me."

"But I do, as I understand it you saved my life. I am in your dept."

"Oh no it's fine really."

"I'm not joking there's a lack of balance here and I'm probably heading out soon, so in the time we have, anything you need I'm there.

"Um, ok. Look you can say thank you all you want but defiantly don't do that."

"Do what?"

"I know how you Skyrim men are and i'm just saying now I want no life-debts, blood-pacts or oaths sworn to me. I only did what was right."

"Tyac and Hardy probably wouldn't have done it. They were halfway to thinking I was a brigand."

"Maybe they wouldn't have but I'm serious you don't need to owe me anything."

"But... I... I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm having trouble with that."

"Are you like this with everyone? Do you find yourself counting favors like beans?"

"It helps, I guess. I'm not a people person, and it kinda helps me to keep track... helps me know who my allies are."

"That's a dangerous game."

"Why?"

"Well how many people owe you favors and don't know it themselves? Would you only do the right thing if you stood to gain favor?"

"I certainly hope not."

"Then why do you do it?"

"Because it's the right thing."

Carlotta was giving him a hard stare, and he was cracking, he could feel it. "... Good. Keep that in mind when your out there."

"Ok but still, that doesn't mean I should refuse boons simply because I don't expect them. Some would consider such things impolite."

"Some would also consider it impolite to demand something from a man recovering in a temple of healing."

"Oh wow." the hunter said leaning back to gain some temporary distance from the unexpected challenge to his social skills. "As if you didn't see my moves just now. I'm as deadly as can be."

"Not a chance. You couldn't terrify a puppy."

"Ow my spirit," the hunter clutched his chest "How swift you bite back like a snake grabbed by the tail. Surely I'd have been better off sunken into the wheat field, food for the crops and crows."

"By the nine, don't irrigate me." Carlotta rolled her eyes so hard he could hear it. "Fine, I'll tell you how you can pay me back. Tell me what really happened that night. How did you get so hurt?"

The hunter was glad to turn down the theatrics but he wasn't sure about this proposition. He didn't know enough to feel safe with his own truth. "That's fair," he began, licking his lips in thought, "Well like I said I was just out for a walk. I'd had a rough evening and needed some headspace, and when I was out there I accidentally got the attention of some wolves."

"Wolves?"

"Yeah, there's this pack from where I live up in the mountains and I guess they just felt like wandering north or maybe they wanted something from me."

"You know them?"

"In a sense, they know my scent and they know they can get food off me without killing me."

"I don't follow."

"I kinda end up feeding them."

"How did you 'feed' them?"

"Details aren't important."

"I disagree..."

"Anyway, they sorta mugged me, knocked me down and stole all the dried meat from my pack. My head hit the wall on the way down and that's how I got hurt."

"Did they scratch you?"

"Um superficially yes."

"No," Carlotta pointed at the long slit down the right side of his face. "I'm talking about your eye."

"Oh," the hunter seemed taken aback, "uh yeah that was them."

Carlotta looked to the hunters hand. "And that's how you lost your finger? By feeding them, before?"

"Hm? Oh no that was a..." the hunter flexed his hand experimentally "that was something else. But you see all these little crater-marks on my forearm?" The hunter held up his left arm and rolled back the sleeve for the widow to see. "That was them... well one of them at least. Came right after me."

"By the nine," the widow leaned in. "How'd you survive that?"

"I paid him back in full." The widow gave him a look like a mother silently chiding a runt for back-talk. The hunter suppressed a laugh and cleared his throat "You can uhh, touch the scars if you like I can't even feel those spots anymore."

"Hmm" the widow placed a hand over the marks rubbing softly. She then met his eye and turned over her hand to reveal an extensive set of calluses on her palm. "Neither can I." she said with sad smirk.

The hunter nodded respectfully, matched her smirk and shrugged, "Already said it didn't I. You're a good mother." After a moment of quiet connection the hunter sighed sharply and stood. He retrieved his boots and started working them onto his feet.

"You have somewhere to be?"

"I have questions and... you're going to hate this but I feel like I am owed answers."

Carlotta didn't scowl, just rested her chin on her hand amused "Do they know that they owe you."

The hunter threw up his eyebrows and ran his fingers though his shoulder-length nest of hair. "I sure hope they do. If not..." he furrowed his brow as he recognized his own lack of forethought. He caught Carlotta's gaze and they both chuckled awkwardly. "I guess I'll have to convince them."

The widow covered her face as her shoulders shook with quiet mirth. "Do what you must, but try to stay safe. I have other things to do besides look after you."

The hunter smiled as he finished fastening his bootstraps, he met her gaze trying to think of some clever retort. But alas it seemed his wit had run out for the moment. "No promises." He said with as much humor as he could muster. Carlotta's face fell slightly as he stood. "Thanks again. I'll see you in the market some time."

"Good luck." the widow offered holding his gaze.

"You too." he said before double checking on his belongings stowed away in their quiet corner and making for the door. He didn't think he'd look back but as he opened the door and light began to flood in he found himself using that slight turn of his shoulders as an excuse to glance back to the widow. Carlotta Valentia had her back to him and was soaking her callused feet in one of the shallow pools of Kynereth. That image would grow to be a persistent one in his mind, for it was the last time he would lay eyes on the strong woman for quite a while.

As he rounded the bow embossed with battered shields, a scene of intense activity steadily revealed itself like he was slowly turning the page of a book. The yard of Jorrvaskr was packed, everyone was working on something, younger members were going through forms under the strict direction of a pair of dark-haired brothers. Though the pair were of two very different sizes and builds, their bone-structure and attire made their familial bond obvious even from where the hunter was standing. The names Farkus and Vilkus floated to the surface of his mind. A balding Nord was sparring with Ria, the hunter didn't know his name. Aela was talking a few young ones through archery practice. They looked like a militia readying for muster, never before had he seen the yard so busy.

The hunter spotted Bracknel sitting under the overhang with Kodlak and made a b-line for the pair. As he walked his eyes lingered on Aela for a moment and true to her name the huntress, as if feeling his gaze, whipped her head around to match it. Cold fire burned steely blue behind streaks of auburn hair. He held that look as he stepped onto the porch, he would not back down from a simple glare.

Bracknel stood upon seeing him and clapped him on the shoulder merrily. "Well look at you, all healed and clean and you still slink around like you just crawled out of a sty."

The hunter smiled half-heartedly, "All cause you carry the sty around with you."

The elder hunter grinned "Haha, good to see your head wasn't too scrambled. Still got the wit to be a smart-arse. Come along Eorlund's been waiting for you."

"The smith isn't the only one." piped up Kodlak. It was then that the hunter noticed the quiet beginning to descend on the yard. He look around to seen that the training had ceased; the whole guild of the companions was milling steadily towards the patio. "We've all been looking forward to seeing this contraption in action."

The hunter felt his guts start to churn at being the center of attention and knew his heart would soon be throbbing in his neck. He caught Aela's eyes again, she was smirking at him as if she knew his internal anguish. He glared back, before suddenly his view was eclipsed by towering steel clad form. He looked up and found himself staring into the dark green eyes of Farkus, the taller of the twins. Long black locks fell down around his face like a curtain shielding a window. "Please have seat." Came a rumble of a voice, crackling like a distant avalanche. A hand fall onto his shoulder with the weight of a bolder and he was unceremoniously sat down into a seat he hadn't known was behind him. "Eorlund will be down shortly."

"Oh good," said Bracknel, easing himself back into his chair, "I didn't feel like walking up those stairs anyway."

"Sure, you're saving those old knees for the trip back up the mountain after all." offered Kodlak.

"Or I'm just lazy." Bracknel laughed.

"I find that far more believable." said Aela taking a seat of her own.

After a minute or two the companions had closed ranks around the hunter and his table. Some of them were talking amongst themselves, some were elbowing each other for a better view and some were flexing there own fingers eyeing the hunters mutilated hand. His view of Aela had been blocked by the throng but the hunter had a very good view of Farkus. Too much of a view in truth, even seated the companion was so tall the hunter felt the need to lean away from him just to get some air.

At last came the deep voice from the edge of the crowd, "Make way." The guild parted like reeds and Eorlund Greymane stepped forward, a case like a jewelry box cradled in his callused hands. The hunter watched in silence as the master-smith sat down before him flanked by Bracknel and Kodlak. The scene was almost too much, the giant Falkus looming over him, Aela's crazy ass somewhere in the crowd, the two most impressive men he'd ever met and Bracknel sitting before him and the throng all pressing in to get a look as the master of the Skyforge opened the case.

At first it didn't look like much, a loose assortment of spindly metal rods and wooden blocks, but a second glance one could see that the craftsmanship was divine. The metal was strong but thin and bent at joints so minute the hunter marveled at how they had been conceived of, let alone crafted. The smith held it up adjusting it slightly so the shape the finger became more apparent. "Behold," he said "a false finger. First of its kind, forged from steel, leather and the wood of an incense ceder." He reach a hand out to the hunter who offer his injured appendage. The smith began by shoving the hunter's stump inside a leather pouch at the base of the new digit. It hurt, it hurt a lot but there were too many eyes around for him to complain about the traumatized flesh. The finger was then secured to by a serious of adjustable leather straps that wrapped around his hand and wrist, he felt like he was wearing a glove that was considerably too small for him. However when he looked down he saw ceder joints forming his new finger; the smith had done it, he had a finger again. There was just one problem, he couldn't move it. It was then that Eorlund started sliding metal rings down his intact middle finger. There were three rings, two between the joints and one pinching the tip. Each ring had a jointed metal rod that attached it to its mirrored position on his false index finger.

It was about this time that a few gasps and ah's of understanding began to rise among the onlookers. "Try splaying your fingers." suggested Eorlund. The hunter did so and watched as the joints straitened between the digits to keep them attached and is new wooded finger stood up to join his middle finger. He flexed his hand, watching the mechanism work and began to understand. His new pointer finger would be piloted by his middle finger. Since he still had a nub, he'd be able to splay his hand out to an extent but the really flexing a curling of the joints would all be inform by the intact appendage. One finger was to be of flesh and bone, the other a wooden puppet on metal strings. It was brilliant, simply brilliant. It didn't offer grip strength but if he pinched with his thumb he had his leverage back.

"Why incense ceder?" came a voice from the crowd probably the surly Nord named Torvar.

"The wood had the most fitting benefits to the needs."

"Like what?"

"It will still smell nice after he wipes his ass with it." piped up Bracknel, earning a wave of chuckles from the crowd.

Eorlund continued as if he hadn't heard any of it. "Much like how a wooden sword must be smoothed and weathered the finger needed to be made resistant to sweat and rot. Incense ceder was the most accepting of the alchemical treatment."

The group hummed in understanding, some more genuine than others. The hunter felt the around the set of leather straps holding the digit in place. "So I keep this on all the time."

"No." Eorlund said reaching forward to demonstrate, "You should take it off to let the hand breath and you can even loosen it like so." The smith undid the straps around the hand and loosened the ones around the wrist. The digit hung loosely by the wrist and the rings and the hunter could feel the blood coming back to his hand. "You may want to practice putting it back on. Who knows when you'll need it."

For the next few minute the hunter fiddled with his new finger, aided by the occasional instruction for the master of the Skyforge. When the novelty of this enterprise expired Athis voiced the collective thoughts of all in attendance. "Are you up for seeing if it really works?"

The hunter stood flexing the hand and grinned at his sparring partner. "You read my mind."

"Great I'll grab the swords."

"That wont be necessary." A wooden sword come soaring from the back of the crowd and the hunter reflexively caught it with his off hand. The throng turned in unison to see, who else but Aela, standing wooden blade in hand, "I'll take this dance." she said.

Athis's eye brows furrowed as looked between them. "Stranger just got out of the temple of healing. Are you sure he's up for that."

"Up for it?" Aela scoffed as she and the hunter locked eyes again, "He's been asking for it since he got here."

They say there's a storm at the throat of the world. It births the sky and hides the heavens from any eye bound to Nirn. The storm often sends its clouds spinning out away from it like falling leaves, They cast themselves across the width and breath of Skyrim. Today the skies above Whiterun were a dappled grey by midday. Tomorrow there may be rain but the clouds were calm for now, content to open and close, part and merge, carrying out their conversations in some ancient language of winds. Jorrvaskr had sat in a pool of golden sunlight as the hunter approached. Now as he and Aela squared off the light shrunk like a puddle drying in the desert.

The hunter felt his joints twitching with anticipation, would they hold? They would have to. He breathed in and out trying to keep his breath smooth, but even he could hear the quiver in his diaphragm. Aela gave him subtle smile as she stood tapping the tip of her sword on the ground impatiently. The hunter put the small crowd of onlookers out of his mind and finish strapping on his new finger. He took up his sword, marking the immediate difference in the feel of the grip and faced Aela, just as the pool of light diminished to nothing and the yard was set in grey shadow.

At this unspoken cue Aela darted forward. She struck at his chest, he parried and circled so she couldn't bring her momentum to bare. She spun and slashed, changing direction with him, he ducked but had lift his sword up to block a fallow-up downward strike. She'd done a second pirouette as ferocious as lightning and now he was stuck. He remembered his drills, parry, repost, parry, repost, but ducking put him in a squat position and she wasn't letting him back up. The huntress pressed forward with five slashes of which he blocked two. He was squatting, then sitting and by the end of the exchange he was flat on his back with her smooth wooden blade resting against his neck.

As the wolf of Whiterun stepped away letting him back up he cursed his own ego. All the training with her and Athis had only bought him this; the ability to block two out of five attacks. However on the other hand, of course; she'd been training as a warrior her entire life, he'd crossed blades with little more than animals before 2 weeks ago. He knew he would not win, but as Aela snickered, moved away, he reminded himself that he wasn't trying to win. He took a deep breath and lifted his legs over his head rolling backwards onto his feet. It wasn't a combat maneuver but it had a certain flash to it. He was relaxing.

When he and Aela squared off again the hunter decided it was time to apply the pressure. This time he moved first, leaping in for a looping diagonal slash. Aela quirked an eyebrow then disappeared. The hunter choked as the side of his neck exploded in pain. He clutched at his throat tears in his eyes, when he turned his head to look for her the tip of her sword pressed into his cheek. "Don't get angry" he told himself, "Just keep pressing."

The next exchange was a first. He leap in again more balanced this time, Aela parried and repost with a straight strike, he sidestepped, parried and went for her midsection, she dodged inviting him in and struck at his wrist. However he had managed to avoid over-committing and simply step back out of danger. They blinked at each other for a moment, a clean exchange. Then the clattering of sword on sword resumed.

It seemed that both of them had learned from their first fight, and even from their brawl. The hunter had learned to take initiative, he wasn't just defending, waiting for openings that closed as soon as they opened. He was pressing forward, at times it was sloppy, at times it was brutish, but he was beginning to feel the flow of the fight. Aela hadn't been wrong when she'd called it a dance, it had a cadence and rhythm that he hadn't fully appreciated from his usual stance of backpedaling will the haste he could manage. To Aela's abundant credit she was wise to his tricks and went far out of her way to keep him from using his surroundings like he had before. She darted around him, diving, rolling and swiping at his legs, anything to keep him away from the practice dummies, the targets, the porch, Jorrvaskr or even the onlookers themselves. He would be kept in the center of the yard, forced to fight her on even ground, sword to sword.

The hunter's earlier assessment held true through most of the fight, when Aela started to pick up the pace he could only parry maybe two out of every five strikes. Then on about the tenth exchange things took a surprising turn.

The hunter parried a probing strike from Aela, he faked high and struck low. Aela diagnosed the move and skipped her legs back out of the way while simultaneously lunging her upper body forward to strike the growing welt on the side of his neck. However his neck was not there the low strike had in fact been a ducking charge. The hunter as if forgetting the sword still held tightly in his hand wrapped up Aelas legs and tackled her to the stone.

The crowd laughed at the brash childishness of the maneuver and how they should have known it would eventually come to this but for the pair on the ground the fight was far from over. The were face to face now, the hunter bringing all his weight to bare as he tried to press his wooden blade into the throat of the wolf of Whiterun. The huntress growled up at him, one hand on his hilt keeping the blade just off her neck, the other trying to find the right angle to jab him in the ribs with her own sword.

The hunter felt her legs curl up under him ready to kick him off so he slipped his hips and legs to the side of hers still pressing down with everything he could muster. Some part of his mind registered that her sword would have just about slashed his gut open had it been sharp steel, but that wasn't relevant right now. What mattered was the look in Aela's eyes, genuine shock and apprehension, a crack in the smooth visage of a warrior carved in marble. She kicked and wheeled her legs trying to find purchase on him. Then the hunter did something that silenced Jorrvaskr. He leaned down till he was pressing his forehead into hers, bared his teeth and growled.

The moment that followed felt like it lasted a minute, Aela went still beneath him, pale blue eyes wide with disbelief, the crowd held its collective breath, whatever it was living in the eves of the porch started scrabbling about again. Then Aela's face contorted in fury and he saw it. She bared her teeth and growled back at him. Only they weren't just teeth, they were almost fangs, and the growl carried a deep undertone of beastly malice. Her eyes flashed red in that moment and he saw it all, because he had been looking for it.

What happened next should have taken him by surprise but didn't. He was launched wholesale, straight up in the air. As he hung there for a moment at mercy of gravity, Aela brought up her legs and kicked him ten feet across the yard. He rolled and skidded across the worn stone till traction eventually caught hold of him and he stopped. Thoroughly winded he panted his way to his feet clutching his stomach. He barely had time to register that through it all his sword was still in his hand, when Aela was upon him.

She attacked him with such ferocity even Kodlak would have flinched at the speed. The hunter was calm however, he knew he'd already won. Then Aela turned her back and stalked away huffing with frustration. The hunter was confused for a moment till he realized that he hadn't been hit. He'd somehow defended himself. She must have thrown 16 strikes at him in a manner of a couple seconds and he's parried each and every one of them. He hadn't thought about it, he hadn't even tried to do it, it just happened. High, right, high, right, left, slash, thrust, low, right, thrust, high, spin, high, low, slash, left. All of it turned away with a slap of his blade. Now the wolf of Whiterun was pacing around the yard, seething like a caged beast.

"Rahhhhhh!" Aela roared and snapped her sword in two over her knee. She flung the pieces at the wall, the pointed end sinking into an archery target because why wouldn't it. Then she was baring down on the porch, just about everyone in the audience scrambled for safety, some knocking over chairs or falling backwards over tables. However all she did was pick up a small pouch and storm off out of the yard.

As the hunter watched her go he let his own sword clatter to the ground. He moved to follow the huntress but suddenly three large shapes were blocking his path. Farkus, Vilkus and the third one he didn't know were baring him from their companion. The unfamiliar one glared at him with one sightless eye. The hunter shuffled his feet, unsure how to proceeded then Aela's voice rang out once more. "Leave him be!" The three looked back at the huntress, then to each other and then to the hunter, but he had already skirted around them and was following in Aela's footsteps, out of the training yard and away from Jorrvaskr.

The parapets of the wind district have often struggled to find a real strategic purpose. They are not posted on the outer wall overlooking the villages and farms of the hold like those of the plains district, and they are not exceptionally high up with eyes on the far horizons like those of the cloud district. Much of the crime in the wind district is done in the residential zones by thieves after the goods of the rich or by the young bands of plains district vandals. It was in those areas that guards focused their patrols. As a result the parapets and watchtowers lining the wind district show all the typical signs of neglect, moldy wood, crumbling stonework, ivy in the eves and grass on the slope-like steps. The one the hunter and Aela now sat at had been thoughtfully fitted with a bench so it could serve as a recreational source of scenic beauty.

They sat in restless silence for several minutes. The hunter shot Aela a few glances, but each time she was simply looking at her fingers wrapped around the small pouch, or out at the view. It was quite a view, looking west across the widest stretches of the hold. The suns rays could be seen, creeping tentatively down from the clouds, widening as if the light was trusting Nirn with its weight. Then it shrunk, retreating back into the sky before touching down elsewhere. In this way the sun walked across the land, step by step, leaving tracks of young spring grass waving in its wake. The hunter had just began to wonder, if these pockets of light were the tracks of a creature, how many legs did it have? He'd counted 5 when Aela finally spoke.

"So," she shot her eyes furtively in his direction. "I hear you got hurt on a walk a couple nights ago?"

The hunter could only fight a smile and shake his head her sheer persistence. "Yes," he said patiently, "It all started when I howled."

"You howled?"

"Yes I wandered over to the battle-born farm and then I jump on this wall and I howled like this..."

"You don't have to do it now."

"Yes I do."

"No..."

"Awoooooooo."

"Mmmmmmmmhmmmmm. Is that right?"

"It is and then the craziest thing happened." the hunter let his eyes go wide and vapid like an overstimulated child telling a story. "These wolves from the Riverwood valley showed up. I don't know why they were there but Bracknel and I are going to try to figure it out when we get back to the mountains. And I thought they were going to kill me, but instead they just mugged me. And then they ran away because these big hairy monsters came, and I messed up my ankle so I tried to hide from the flipping nightmares, but then one found me and it talked, said that 'I owed it again' and that's all fine and dandy but considering the fact that it nearly crushed my skull," the hunter dropped back to a dead serious tone "I don't think I owe you anything!" he finished with a definite and crushing proclamation.

Aela silently glared at him and he glared at her. Her eyes searched his as she weighed her options, then at last she finally cracked. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"You almost broke my skull!"

"You! You could have... ooooh by the gods! What in oblivion were you even doing there!?"

"What the was I doing there? Where is there? What is going on?"

"You have to be the biggest idiot on all of Tamriel!"

"And I don't even know what you are."

"Gaaahhdss! Fucking hit me already!"

"And another thing- what?"

"Fucking punch me in the face!"

"I don't-"

"Now!"

"Ok." Understanding nothing the hunter coiled back and sent his fist crashing against Aela jaw. Her head whipped around with the impact but she seemed otherwise unfazed.

"Good!" she shouted then drove her own fist so deep into his gut he was very glad he'd skipped breakfast. He doubled over retching and gagging as his stomach tried to jettison a great wad of nothing. Aela just rubbed his back almost tender now, her rage seeming to ebb away like a tide.

"Look at you," she said shaking her head, "you're so weak and frail. I bet I could put my arm strait through you if I tried."

"You're saying you didn't?" the hunter choked.

Aela opened the pouch revealing a small red potion and a squat jar full of something that looked like marmalade, "Here." she said, offering him the what he guessed was healing potion, "Drink this."

The hunter took it, still clutching his gut and looked at the huntress like she was crazy. "drink this? You fucking drink this. What the heck? Gonna punch me in the stomach and say drink this." His wheezing voice found strength and he bellowed. "What the heck are you anyway?!"

Aela actually flinched at this "Don't... fuckin shout it, okay?"

The hunter obliged and lowered his voice. "What, in all the hellish plains of oblivion, are you?"

"I'm..." Aela ran her hands through her auburn hair in agitation. "Oh wow I can't believe I'm doing this. Um..." she glanced at the hunter as if hoping for him to interject with some witticism. He just stared back at her still hunched over and resentful. "Fuck... I'm a lycanthrop, alright?"

"A lycanthrope?"

"Yes."

"A Werewolf."

"Yes."

"Werewolves are real?"

"You got your finger cut off by vampires, which by the way they probably ate just so you know. Are you really having trouble believing that werewolves can exist."

Suddenly the hunter became self-conscious and glanced over his shoulder. "Is this the best place to be discussing this?"

"As good a place as any."

"Well you mind taking if from the top then?"

"The top, what top?"

"What is a werewolf? Who else knows about you? Is it just you?"

"Ok I already told you too much. This is none of your business."

"Oh it isn't? Cause I've got this scar," the hunter pointed at his right eye "that says that it is very much my business."

"Oh and 'I nearly broke your skull' so you say. Only to stop Skjor from killing you on sight! I saved you, and you want to walk into my house and challenge me like some upstart pup!"

"Well it worked didn't it? Now I know the other one's name is Skjor."

"By the gods this was a mistake."

"I'll say..."

"Shut up seriously." the hunter obliged and Aela buried her face in her hands and curled up. She stayed like that for just a moment, knees and elbow knitted, palms pressed over her eyes, it was something the hunter had never seen from her. Not a warrior, not a huntress, but an awkward vulnerable person, struggling through a social quandary. Next thing she was back, eyeing him carefully from behind her auburn vale. "Take off that shirt."

"What?"

"Just take off your shirt."

"No, why?"

"What are you afraid to get it dirty?"

"Its already dirty."

"Great so just take it off."

"Why?"

"Stranger..."

"Fine." the hunter relented and removed the loose once pale fabric from his torso.

"Now turn around," Aela insisted and the hunter spun around and straddled the bench with his back to her all scared and bruised. "and seriously drink that potion."

"I'll try," the hunter mumbled. "What do you want with my back?"

Aela didn't answer. He heard the winding of a cord and cloth then the popping of a cork. After a moment he felt her hands and flinched instinctively but for the first time they touched without force or violence. He felt some smooth creamy substance being spread by her fingers. She massaged and rubbed it into his scars and bruises. As she circled the rim of the crater where the arrow had shattered his shoulder blade she began to speak slowly.

"I am a werewolf. So is the entire circle of the companions."

The hunter uncorked the potion and cocked an ear. "Kodlak?"

"Yes Kodlak Whitemane is also a werewolf."

"Who else knows?"

"There are some within the companions who know, most of the whelps like Galdus and Ria don't know. Some of the proper guild members like Athis and Njada have been around long enough to figure it out."

"Anyone outside the guild?"

"No one, not even the Jarl. I mean I'm sure some in the cloud district have their suspicions, but no."

"I feel like no one could fight you at close range and not have their suspicions."

"Well outside of the guild, most who fight me at close quarters don't live to tell the tale, do they."

"I suppose your right." He took a tentative sip of the potion and fought the urge to recoil, actually it wasn't as bad this time around. "How many are the circle?"

"Five: Kodlak is the Harbinger. Then there's myself, Farkus, Valkus and Skjor. You met him; balding white hair, blind in one eye."

"So that's who that was." the hunter nodded before fighting a down a full swig of the healing potion. "Grumpy bastard isn't he ahhh."

Aela had jabbed her thumb into the welt on the side of his neck causing the hunters limbs to all curl like withering vines. "He is a celebrated veteran of the imperial legion and one of the most accomplished warriors in all of Tamriel. You're lucky to get scowled at by him."

"Yeah ok got it." the hunter squeaked like the pup he probably resembled to her.

Aela released his neck and stated rubbing what he figured to be some kind of poultice or salve into the mark there. "Any more questions?"

"What decides who becomes a werewolf?"

"There's a ritual and there are rites to preform."

"That just gives me more questions."

"Then ask them."

"Are you sure." the hunter turned slightly to look back at the wolf of Whiterun but she pressed a finger into his cheek stopping the motion.

"Eyes forward." she said. "Lets just keep talking."

The hunter chalked this up on his new tally of Lycanthrope quirks and continued. "What is a werewolf? What makes a werewolf... a werewolf?"

Aela took a deep breath, moved on to rubbing his arms and began to explain. "Lycanthropes carry the beast blood and the beasts form sleeps in our bones. The beast blood was a gift to mortals from the Daedric prince Hircine lord of the hunt. A presume you know him."

"I know of him, I've known other hunters who carry emblems or fetishes of him. But honestly I never put much stock into stories of Aedra and Daedra."

Aela leaned her face over his shoulder "Then you truly are a fool, a woman who can turn into a giant wolf is rubbing your back."

"Yeah I know but can we... like... just one existential crisis at a time please."

Aela chuckled. "Sure, sure. As I was saying, we who are most loyal to Hircine give ourselves to the chase, the thrill, the hunt now and in death. In return Hircine grants us the boon of lycanthropy. The power to be the beasts that we truly are inside."

"Are you still you?"

"I am always me." Aela deadpanned

"Yeah when you're like that, you can still think like yourself right?"

Aela squinted at him, "Firstly do you really think you'd be alive if I couldn't?"

"That's fair."

"Secondly, I think you've misunderstood me. I don't become the beast, I am the beast. The woman you see before you is the predator, is the monster. That's what makes us feared that's what makes us powerful. When we take that other form it's more freeing than anything else. It's like dropping all pretense."

The hunter nodded slowly and bowed his head in thought "Hircine..." he began but didn't go anywhere with the thought.

"Are you okay?" Aela asked.

"... You know it's been a long time coming I suppose, but you're really rocking my world with all this... werewolves, Daedra... Vampires. Is there a Daedric Lord responsible for vampires?"

"Probably. Go ask a vampire."

The hunter sighed. "I'll get right on that." he drummed on his knees for a moment. "Are you guys looking to turn people?"

"The circle hasn't bestowed the beast blood for a while. The things that make you a good companion are not necessarily the things make you a good werewolf. Even though Athis or Ramasha have been around longer, I think Ria is closer than any of them."

"Would that make her a part of the circle?"

"Not necessarily but it would practically assure it."

"I see... Does Bracknel know?"

"Of course Bracknel knows."

"Alright... Bastard."

"You said it."

"How did you meet Bracknel?"

Aela paused in her work, "He's uh..." she drew another calming breath, "Well you know, he's been around from time to time, as I grew up... when I was very young actually. He never stayed for long but he always made an impression when he was there. Friend of mine, friend of the guild...friend of my mother's I think. If you're a friend of his then I'm inclined to not kill you, knowing this. Assuming you can keep a secret."

"Oh I can keep a secret, before I met Bracknel I didn't do a lot of talking... at all."

Aela nodded, "Well that's comforting."

"What um... Whats the deal with Kodlak? Why didn't you want me to help him? What would he ask?"

"Ok that is very much guild business. I'm not getting into that."

"And lycanthropy isn't guild business."

"This is different, just remember your end of that bargain and lay down on your back."

"Ok again why?"

"I hit you in the gut a few times didn't I?"

"Oh did you? I hardly noticed." The hunter lay back on the bench and watched as Aela came into view once more, kneeling beside him. Her dusty blue tunic still colorful enough to compliment her eyes. Those eyes looked down at his chest and Aela did something he never thought he see in a million years. She snorted, gasped and started laughing. She guffawed so hard she turned and just sat down next to the bench.

"What?" the hunter asked propping himself up on his elbows. Aela shoulders shook with mirth, as she tried to suppress to sound. She reached down and held up one of her boots. It was a bluntly pointed thing of much finer make than the hunter would ever wear. He failed to comprehend the humor until he noticed that the shape of the sole exactly matched the shape of the light purple bruise on his solar plexus. He grinned and looked back at Aela who was trying to put her boot back on with one hand and pinching her nose with the other. "What?" He asked again chortling "you kicked the shit out of me back there. I mean what would have happened if you caught me in the privates."

"It's not like you ever use them anyway." Aela cackled.

The hunter shot up his eyebrows, "Ok whoa, ouch."

Aela wiped off her face "I know, I know. Just lay back I'll take care of it."

"Hey now."

"What?" the hunter only grinned and waggled his eyebrows and the huntress, "Oh grow up!" Aela exclaimed swiping playfully about his ears.

The hunter shook his head still smiling incredulously "I am grown that's the problem. Also I have functional arms you know, I can put poultice on my own stomach."

"Yeah I know, just let me do this. It's easier."

"Easier than what?"

"Just get down." The hunter rolled his eyes and lay back. He winced when Aela started applying the salve, but when she settled into smooth circular motions it began to feel quite nice. "Where are you from by the way?"

"The mountains."

"Riverwood?"

"Helgen."

"You're whole life?"

"No I've been around."

"Like where?"

"Places?"

Aela snorted again, "I hate you, I actually think I hate you." She rubbed his belly even harder. "I just let you in on a secret only a few people in Skyrim know and you can't even talk about yourself enough to make conversation."

The hunter shrugged "Sorry."

"Come on we know each other well enough. I rubbed your back."

"By that metric you're up there with a few trees I've known?"

"How about... What's your real name?"

"What do you mean?"

"Stranger can't be your real name."

"Why can't it?"

"Well to start no parent would ever name their child Stranger."

"Yeah, I guess they wouldn't."

Aela paused in her attentions, voice catching as his meaning sunk in, "I..." she sighed "I'm sorry. There I said it."

The hunter yawned "Congratulations."

"I still hate you. Just for the record."

"Oh you think you hate me now just wait till I do this." the hunter lifted a leg and began to rapidly shake it like a pampered dog.

Aela pursed her lips and shook her head eyes closed. She pinched her brow and sat back, ignoring the poultice she inadvertently put on her face. "I can't believe you." she giggled.

"Is this offensive to werewolves?" he asked, himself chuckling merrily.

"No it's great. Do it again."

The hunter wheeled his leg once more and put on his most goofy cross-eyed smile. Aela's shoulder's started shaking again and he swore her face was starting to turn red. Her eyes screwed up and she laughed so hard that no actual noise came out. He could see her nostrils flaring rhythmically with her fruitless heaves. Finally she gasped in air and lay back on the grassy stone, giggling and trying to catch her breath. The hunter almost delirious from laughter himself rolled onto his side to look at her. "What happens if I go rubbing your belly?"

"Oh don't you dare I will deck you, and feel nothing."

"I completely believe you." the hunter chuckled. He took in a deep breath and let it out, "ooooooh goooooods."

Aela wiped her eyes, "This is so stupid!"

"I know."

"You and Bracknel are going to leave soon right? Now that you've got your new finger."

As if reminded the hunter loosened the straps on his new digit and rolled over so they were both just staring up at the ivy covered eves. "Yeah I think we're probably out as early as we can tomorrow."

"I expect you'll be glad to be leaving?"

The hunter though about it "Yeah."

Aela didn't respond for moment "... I see."

"The city is great and all but I don't think it's my speed if that makes sense." The hunter hung his leg down and kicked her booted foot playfully, "Try not to miss me too much."

"How can I miss you? I don't even know you."

"You know plenty about me."

"Like what?"

"You know I'm a good shot."

"Hm. Not good enough." Aela sat up slowly with a languid stretch "Come on we've got half a day left, lets work on your form."

The hunter sat up as well "What about lunch?"

"We'll multitask." Aela shrugged and began to walk away.

As the hunter was throwing on his shirt suddenly a thought occurred to him, "Wait! Aela, one more question."

The huntress looked back at him, "Yes?"

"Have you ever..." he faltered "uhhh you know..."

"Have I ever what?"

"Have. You. Ever... Eaten someone? Like a whole person have you ever just..." he made a crunching motion with is hands, eyes wide for emphasis.

Aela appraised him with small grin that was both surprised and amused. "Huh... you're funny Stranger."

The hunter blinked "I don't know how to take that." Aela didn't bother elaborating, turned on here heal and kept walking. "Aela! I feel like that one deserves an answer! Aela!" The huntress suppressed a giggle as the hunter wobbled to his feet and followed her back into the streets of Whiterun.

The sky had cleared the next morning, yesterdays clouds proving an empty threat. The sky was light but the sun had yet to rise. It was good traveling weather and the hunter was eager to get underway. He was sitting in front of the Bannered Mare, adjusting the straps on the short sword he'd been lent by the guild, it wasn't a dagger, wasn't an longsword and most importantly it wasn't his. Athis expected it back when he returned to pick up his actual commission. He was trying to fix it so it stuck out from his right hip. That way he had his arrows on his left hip and the hilt of his sword on his right. If he didn't figure it out by the time they reached the gate he'd just throw the darn thing on his back. Bracknel would be out soon, he hoped. He would like to get gone without running into the Mikael or Uthgurd.

Just about the time the guards started giving the shaggy ragamuffin a few more glances Bracknel emerged from the inn with the innkeeper Hulda by his side. "Are you sure that extra slice pie won't slow you down?" she was asking.

"Non-sense I'll walk the weight off by the time I hit the foothills."

"Oh if you say so. Do you have everything you need?"

"How can I when you're staying here?"

The venerable innkeeper blushed like a maiden, "Well if that's how you truly feel then don't be a stranger." The hunter rolled his eyes. If he had a Septim for every time that exact phase had been sent his way as a joke, he'd be a lord by now.

"Certainly not," said Bracknel before sweeping Hulda up in his arms, dipping her low, and planting a firm kiss on her mouth. As the old pair necked like teenagers the hunter wondered off behind the well in the square, if only to get away from the incessant slurping sounds. He caught a guards eye and the latter looked away, probably blushing under their helmet.

After about three minutes of sheer bliss the hunter felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Bracknel adjusting the straps of his pack, in the background Hulda stood pining at the front step of her inn. "Ready too go?" the elder hunter asked.

"Been ready."

The pair set off towards the front gate, making minor adjustments to there straps as they went. Motion always had a way of revealing all the little wiggles that would cause blisters if unattended. Just as they passed by Breezehome the hunter eyed Bracknel. Apparently feeling his gaze the old man piped up. "You got something to say?"

The hunter shook his head. "Nothing I didn't already know about you."

"Oh very funny. I take it you and Aela had a good time last night."

The hunter glared at him "We did but not at all in the way you're implying."

"I imply nothing, but I will say outright that you are not good enough for her."

"Who is?" the hunter smiled softly to himself "All we did was talk, she could not stop laughing when I asked her if a Khajiit could become a lycanthrope."

Bracknel tossed his head back with a hardy cackled "So that particular cat is out of the bag, is it? I suppose it was only a matter of time."

"Did you know what would happen when I left? Did you know where she would be?"

"I had my suspicions, for Aela blowing off steam can mean anything from cloud distinct Archery practice, assembling and destroying combat dummies, or shifting into a hound of Hircine and gallivanting around the fields ripping deer apart with her bear hands."

The hunter stroked his scraggly beard "Perhaps I should get her a diary when the mid-year festival comes around."

The elder hunter paused and appraised his young compatriot. "Well I'll be, that's certainly something new."

"I know novel idea right. She'd probably use it to balance a weapon display case or something."

"I'm not talking Aela, I'm talking about you."

The hunter stopped as well and looked back at the old man. "What about me?"

"I've heard you speculate, I've heard you wonder, and I've even heard you hope. But that might be the first time I've heard you talk about the future like you actually planned to be there."

The hunters eyes dropped to Bracknel's feet as he mulled the words over, then he smiled at his friend. "I guess that's true." he began to walk backwards, letting Bracknel catch up as they continued out to front gate. "I've got a question for you, old hound."

"Let's hear it."

"What spooks elk herds, kills salmon, and displaces whole packs of wolves?"

Bracknel grinned. "Why I don't know, but you're going to help me find out aren't you."