The road to Whiterun was quiet. Peaceful. Completely against the hustle and bustle that dominated city life. Even the relatively quiet Riverwood was noisy compared to the untamed nature of Skyrim.
It was relaxing. So much so that John took a breath and rolled his shoulders. He had always been tense. It came with the job.
But here, he had no need of tension. The times he had to fight were few and far between, and none of them had been particularly difficult. Certainly not as difficult as the mob of assassins that had been sent after him. No, here, he could breathe in the fresh air without any worries.
Though John's strides were steady and his body relaxed, each footfall finding its place on the old road to Whiterun, his mind was far from steady. It whirled with thoughts and conjectures about the summons from Jarl Balgruuf.
He hadn't done anything too noteworthy, had he? Apart from the rescue of the children, he couldn't think of anything else. He had tried hard to not stand out, after all.
What could the Jarl want with him then, to send a message like that?
He had been thinking about that question over and over again, never quite getting a clear cut answer. He would have to find out when he actually got there.
The rustling of leaves. John calmly turned towards it. If it had been a bandit, they would've shot by now. If it were an animal, then he needed to present himself as a not-a-prey.
It was the latter.
A wolf, snarling at him. Carefully moving around, stalking John. It was malnourished, going by the frankly emaciated look. He was internally amazed that it was still alive.
It was growling now, hind legs ready to pounce on him with whatever strength it had left. As weak as it looked, John figured that that pounce would likely be its last. Not due to him doing anything in particular, but by virtue of sheer exhaustion.
John made the first move, breaking the stalemate. The wolf started growling even louder as he reached into his bag.
Jerky.
Thrown at the feet of the wolf. The animal leapt back, surprisingly still nimble. It stared warily at the offending piece of meat, before approaching and giving it a sniff. That was all it took, before it grabbed the jerky and scurried away.
Before it disappeared into the treeline, it turned to look at John. John stared back. The wolf left.
The former assassin sighed. He probably should've killed it. It was possible that it would try and hurt other people, with how desperate it looked for food. It might even just die in spite of the small bit of jerky, with the food only prolonging the inevitable.
He still couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when he had a soft spot for dogs.
The night sky greeted him as he finished setting up camp. The stars seemed brighter here, away from the light pollution of the cities he had known. The quiet of the night was only interrupted by the soft crackling of the campfire and the occasional hoot of an owl. John sat by the fire, staring at it and letting his mind wander.
He pulled out a small book from his bag – an odd habit he'd picked up. It was a simple journal, nothing fancy, but it was his way of keeping track of his thoughts, his journey. He penned down the day's events, from the peaceful walk to the encounter with the wolf. It was therapeutic in a way, a moment of quiet in a life that had been anything but.
Finishing his writing, he closed the book and gazed back into the fire. Here, in the wilderness of Skyrim, away from his past life, he found a moment of tranquility. Tomorrow would come with its challenges, but for now, he had the night, the fire, and a sky full of stars.
Rustling, a familiar one.
He looked up from his thoughts, to see the same wolf peer out from the darkness. It stood on the opposite side of the fire, staring at him in what looked to be curiosity. Trying not to startle it, with how close it was now, he reached towards the sword he had kept near him.
As much as he had a soft spot, this was still a wild animal. A wild animal that found him in the middle of the night.
To his surprise, the wolf laid down near the fire, still keeping an eye on John. Seeing the placidity of the wolf, John shifted his arm to the rest of the rabbit he had caught. With a gentle throw, the rabbit was at the wolf's feet.
It ate it after just a glance.
The night would pass without incident, neither wolf nor man disturbing the other's sleep.
…
The next day, John awoke to the sound of birds chirping. A luxury back in New York, if only because the birds would need to contend with the horns of traffic.
The wolf was gone, the spot it had slept in not even showing it had been there at all. John shrugged. It wasn't like he expected anything else.
He packed up his camp and set off for Whiterun once more. He could see it in the distance now, the spires of the famous Dragonsreach. It would still be a few days till he would make it, with maybe two or more spent in the forest that spanned Riverwood.
As he walked, he couldn't help but think about the wolf from the previous night. It was unusual for a wild animal to approach a human, let alone share a campfire. Perhaps, he mused, the wolf sensed a kindred spirit, someone who understood the harsh realities of survival.
His ears were the first to pick up the crashing of waves by the river. It wasn't anything special, just a small drop off from the natural river flow. It was the sound near that that was interesting. Voices.
"-ago. What could have taken him so damn long?"
Along the path, he could spot two people, a rugged looking Nord, and what obviously looked like his son. The son spotted him first, pointing up at him. The father looked up, hand raised, "Hail, stranger!"
John stopped in front of him, nodding as he did. They wanted his attention, and with the worry he could easily see from the both of them, it likely wasn't an ambush.
"Name's Faldrin, and this is my son, Jorid."
"John."
"A pleasure, John." Faldrin extended a hand, John clasping it with his own. The Nords around these parts were friendly enough, and adhered to a lot of honor. The only ones that didn't were bandits, and going by the way they were dressed and what they were carrying, these two were clearly just out gathering firewood.
"Now, I just wanted to ask, have you by chance seen anyone in the woods?" There was a twinge of hope, alongside an air of annoyance.
"Not that I can remember."
"Damn…" Faldrin deflated, sighing to himself, "Where the damned hell could that man have gone?"
John furrowed his brow. All his instincts were telling him to let it go. It wasn't his business. He should just walk away. And really, no one would blame him. It really wasn't his obligation to do anything.
And yet, he also wanted to be a better person. A better person wouldn't just leave something like this alone.
"Is something the matter?"
"My brother, he's been gone too long. Went out to piss, he said, and he hasn't been back in well over three hours by now." The annoyance was in full swing, with an undercurrent of worry, "Torsten's not the type of man to get lost in these woods, nor is he the type to keep us waiting."
John considered the situation. In his past life, he would have walked away, uninterested in the problems of strangers. But things were different now.
"Which way did he go?" John asked, his voice calm and even.
Faldrin pointed towards the direction John had come from. "That way, upriver. Thought you might've bumped into him, but I suppose I was wrong."
John certainly didn't spot anything back there. There weren't even any indications that another person was near there. Had the man fallen into the river, somehow, or-
He frowned as a stray thought came unbidden. The wolf. Had the wolf ambushed the man? It was certainly desperate enough to try with him, why not another person?
Had his actions led to an innocent man being killed and eaten?
The thought made him more angry than he thought it would. Angry at himself. Angry at his own actions. The would be's, could be's. He opened his mouth, ready to try and explain, to say that the man was likely either dead or dying, when the son shouted out.
"Uncle Torsten!"
Palpable relief flooded John. He had been wrong.
"Run!"
The relief lasted as long as fire underwater. It didn't.
He quickly turned to see another Nord rushing towards them, a bloodied arm and an axe weakly clutched in it. The man was running as fast as he could, a terrified look on his face.
The treeline moved. No, something else was moving in it.
"Have you all gone deaf?! RUN!"
Just as Torsten grabbed at Faldrin's shoulder and pushed Jorid along, it came out of the treeline.
John didn't hesitate to pick up Jorid and shove him into his father's arms.
A grizzly bear. A fully grown one. It was barrelling towards them, barely slowed down by the leaves and foliage. John was a lot of things. Suicidal was not one of them.
He excelled at taking down just about anything he came across. That is, if they were people. It was significantly different from taking a grizzly bear head on.
It was after Torsten, who was running alongside the three of them. Going by how much the man was breathing, it was only a matter of time before he got winded. That he had been gone for at least a few hours meant that he had likely been avoiding the bear for that entire time, not exactly a fun prospect.
That mea-
His back exploded in pain. He fell forward as he felt the full weight of the bear on top of him, coupled with the heavy blows it gave with its arms.
He could distantly hear the shouts of the three others as he was being pummeled. He tried to hit back, but it had no effect, the bear continuing to smack him around.
'So this is how I die, huh? Fighting a damn bear.'
He had survived assassination attempts. A near one-man war against the world. Criminal empires had fallen because of him. All for it to end by means of bear. It was so sad that it was funny.
A howl.
The blows stopped. Groans of pain. John opened his one good eye. There. The wolf from before, biting at the neck of the bear.
With adrenaline filling his body, John grabbed the sword at his side. With a thrust, he shoved it into the bear's eye. It started thrashing about, pawing at John once again. The wolf was thrown aside, a pained yelp in response.
John stabbed at the other eye, before pulling himself over and on top of the bear, riding on it like a horse. It started to buck, trying to throw him off. He didn't let it.
He pulled out his sword and plunged it into the neck of the beast, over and over. Slowly, surely, the bear's motions petered out, until it all but collapsed, dead.
"By the gods…"
John breathed heavily, wounds bleeding profusely. He stood over the carcass of the bear, staring not at it, but at the wolf that had helped him.
It stared back. This time, it had a look that distinctly felt like it was trying to say 'we're even'.
He gave a short laugh as he fell on his ass, prompting Faldrin to jolt out of his reverie, "The health potions, boy, the health potions!"
If that was what he got in return for some jerky and badly cooked rabbit, then that was the deal of the century.
The four of them headed out of the forest soon after, heading into the plains of the outskirts of Whiterun. They had deemed it would be better than to risk another bear attack, even as they trekked in the twilight hours.
They had left the wolf to its own devices, though it had already long since gone.
The wolf trudged through the forest, wandering, until it reached a small hill. There, it could see the plains of Whiterun. It could see the plains where John and the three others stayed.
Beside the wolf, a figure stood. A crown formed from the head of a deer, the figure watched alongside the wolf.
"John Wick. For a mortal, you really are fascinating."
Commissioned by: brutalcrab
A/N: If you like what I do and want to support me, check out my P-atreon at P-atreon•com(slash)Almistyor.
And a special thanks to: FireRogueWolf25, brutalcrab and Tassimo.
