Mori began stirring sometime after two hours had passed.

A mix of anxiety and hope surged in Vilkas. He had spent the time thinking, and now he was almost glad he couldn't sit in his head alone anymore.

She made soft sleepy noises while she shifted and stretched. In the end, she reached out and dropped her arm over his leg. "You didn't leave. Good."

"...I didn't."

"Why haven't you been eating?"

Vilkas' brain came to a screeching halt. Of all the questions he expected, this didn't belong.

"What?"

"When you change. You need to eat."

He tensed. "I don't want to ki-"

"Not people, silly," Mori started caressing his thigh. "Animals are enough. Remember what I told you about food and changing shapes? I need to eat more after I've been something smaller and don't need to eat as much if I fill my stomach as a big beast?"

"...aye."

"The same goes for werewolves. Your body spends huge amounts of energy transforming. You need to fill it back up. Otherwise what happened to you will follow - your bloodrage will increase, making you hunt after losing yourself to it, not being able to distinguish between human and beast."

That...actually makes sense. Why didn't anyone tell me before?

"If you have the iron will to suppress the urge like you did, your human body will start deteriorating too - that's why you look thinner and more sullen."

"But I didn't suppress it. I wounded you."

"No one can suppress the Hunter on his Night," Mori's voice turned melancholic. "I knew what I was going in for. And the blood is on my hands."

"How can it be?" Vilkas scoffed.

"I...hesitated. With forcing my will on you, because...because I didn't..." She curled up more into herself. "I didn't want to do it to you."

"Don't hesitate next time...if there is going to be a next time."

"Why wouldn't there be?" She pulled herself up, sitting face to face with him. "Are you going to chase me away?"

"Aren't you?" he avoided her gaze.

"No."

"But-"

She reached up, putting an index finger over his lips. The tingly sensation running down his back was miniscule, but not even in his guilt could he stop it.

"What are you punishing yourself for, Vilkas? You did nothing wrong."

"I hurt you!" he grabbed her shoulders, wanting to shake her. With all his will he stopped himself, relaxing his grip but not letting go.

"Would you blame the archer if he was shooting at a deer and someone jumped in front of the arrow, knowing full well it had been released?"

"...no."

"Don't blame yourself for my jumping in front of the arrow, then," she reached out and caressed his cheek.

"...don't jump next time," he leaned into the touch after a while. "Do something from a distance. I know you can."

"Hmm. That is a tough ask. How about this - I will promise if you promise to stop suffocating yourself."

"You told me not to make promises I can't keep."

"Well then I'll just have to keep jumping until you can."

"You shouldn't. You are far too dear to many people," his eyes darted away.

"As are you," she tried to gently turn his head to look into his eyes again.

He scoffed. "Hardly."

"Farkas loves you."

"He has to, we are bound by blood."

"He doesn't have to. Siblings don't automatically share the bond you have - look at Orgoch and I. Farkas loves you because you are his favourite little brother."

Before Vilkas could protest, she continued. "Erika loves you the same way Farkas does. She picked you, as she swore herself as your sister instead of being born one. Even I can see that, and I didn't spend too much time around her."

His eyes hesitantly found hers.

Usually she had an air of looming power around her, like a mountain in the distance, even when she was shy or flustered. Now all of it went away in favour of something so incredibly tender, small and vulnerable.

There was a hint of hesitation in her eyes. But then he could see what he knew well - determination to try for what she wanted. She climbed on his lap, grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself up.

"I love you," she locked eyes with him, as much as he could see some worry in them. "Not the same way they do."

His heartbeat quickened. His body tensed.

Say something, you idiot!

You feel the same, so why can't you say it!

...because I don't deserve it.

"I love you like I've never loved anyone," Mori leaned closer. When their lips almost touched, she stopped, moving her hands up his neck and into his hair. "May I?" she breathed out, barely audible.

Oblivion damn me.

It already has, hasn't it? I'm one with a Beast. Might as well indulge us both.

Hesitantly, he closed the gap. It was just a gentle, fluttering brush. Nonetheless, both of their bodies shivered.

I don't know what I'm doing.

Mori wasn't as flustered. Now that he engaged, all of her worry dissipated. He felt her lips spreading into a smile. She pressed her body against his, so small yet so domineering.

An unknown fiery sensation lit up in his belly.

She giggled. It was in surprise. It was sensual. It made his heart race even more. He kissed her again, this time with more confidence. His hand found its way into her hair, so soft and smelling like winter forest.

Mori's hand slipped down his neck. She tickled him with the tips of her fingers, sending welcome shivers down his spine. Hungrily deepening the kiss, she trailed her fingers down, finally resting her hand fully on his chest.

Searing pleasure spread like wildfire through his whole body. He wanted more. He wrapped his arm around her hips, careful to stay way below any wounds. He pulled her closer. Mori squealed, surprised, mirthful, pleased. Her arms wound around him, hands wandering across his shoulders, back and neck.

The single little noise almost made him lose himself.

Their bodies pressed against each other, only bandages and a piece of blanket separating them.

He felt a hungry desperation for her, wanted to squeeze and hold her. Not wanting to cause pain to her injuries, the ones he had caused, he slid both his hands on her thighs instead.

Wait, should I be doing that?

Before he could finish the flash of a thought that broke through, she squeezed his sides with her thighs. A predatory grin, yet loving and mischievous at the same time, spread on her lips.

She cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for yet another kiss. A little moan escaped him, which made her eyes burn bright with desire.

They both gasped for breath in small breaks before their lips connected again and again.

When they finally parted, huffing and out of breath, Vilkas felt a twang of displeasure, as much as he needed the reprieve.

She lowered herself, putting her weight back on his lap fully, and rested against him, her body shivering. Her breaths were tickling his throat.

This time, he could smell her excitement.

He suppressed the fire in his veins, as much as he didn't wish to. Mori was wounded, and exploring that way would do her no good. With a sigh, he buried his nose in her hair.

She nuzzled against him. "I will have to lie down," her voice was low. "The back is more sore than I thought it would be." Reluctantly, she pulled away, planting one last kiss on his lips.

Before she moved off, her gaze slid down his chest and stomach. "We'll pick that bone of yours some other day, hm?" she grinned wickedly. Giggling at the redness flushing his cheeks, she moved to the side and laid down carefully.

Vilkas rested his hand on her head, caressing it gently. She sighed contentedly.

"Do you want to sleep more?"

"Maybe," she yawned.

"How about I go look for some food? You must be hungry."

"A little..."

"That's a lie," he raised an eyebrow. "You don't have any food packed with you. You must have been relying on hunting and the last time you could have eaten was yesterday."

"Will you come back?" her tone shifted to uncertainty.

"To you? Always. I have lost my soul now," he trailed her ear with his fingertips. "Try to sleep more."

She slid the blanket higher, leaving only half of her face uncovered. "May I watch you dress?"

"...aye," his eyes darted away, then returned. To his satisfaction, he found a blush on her cheeks.

XXX

It took some time, but Vilkas managed to catch two pheasants. He cleaned them where he had caught them and brought only the parts for cooking. Some small animal will be happy to find the leftovers.

Mori was still asleep.

As quietly as possible, Vilkas made fire. While the flames were starting, he went through his pack for the basic seasonings and mixed them with the cut pieces of meat.

He put off actually frying them for as long as possible, but in the end, he took out the small pan that he carried everywhere and continued cooking.

Mori must have been really exhausted, because she only murmured and shifted, but didn't wake.

I like it when she looks at me.

As much as I don't deserve it.

I also like cooking for her. His eyes wandered over to her sleeping form. I want to kiss her again.

He clicked his tongue.

Don't be stupid. You should ask about werewolves. Make your life easier and make yourself into less of a menace first.

Can she heal herself? She would if she could, right?

When the air got filled with the fragrance of fried meat, Mori stirred. "How long have I slept?" she asked, voice hazy.

"Few hours. Close your eyes for a bit, it will be done soon."

"I want to look at you, though," she purred from under her blanket pile.

"You can look all you want when you're rested."

"Can I? Who knows when I will be able to steal you for myself next? I will look," her voice turned playful. "Your hands are beautiful."

"The whole of you is beautiful," he deflected. Mori didn't comment anymore, but he could feel her gaze. It made him flustered, but not uncomfortable.

When it was done, he split the meat in two bowls. He cut a slice of bread to add to each and then finished the mix with dried tomatoes and hazelnuts. "I have dried apples if you'd like something after," he said as he handed her the fuller bowl.

"I will cook for you next time," she accepted, giving him a look after comparing their bowls.

"I have cheese," he defended the different amounts as he pulled a piece of hard cheese out of his pack. "So you can have more of the rest."

"I like it. Reminds me of the happier parts of childhood," she spoke with her mouth full. "Especially the onion. When the day was good, Orgoch would allow me to fry it with fatty meat pieces."

"She controlled your food?"

"She controlled everything," Mori shrugged. "Whenever she was angry at me, she would use my full name. Menacingly."

"Mori is a short form?" Vilkas' eyebrows went up. "What is the full one?"

She turned a little shy. "I'm not sure I like it. Only she would use it..."

"Can I just hear it? I won't call you that if you dislike it, I promise."

She looked to the side, then back to him, biting her lip. In the end, she gave up. "It's Moriwen. You can...try it once."

"Moriwen," he rolled the syllables out, enjoying the sound. As he did, he could see turmoil in her eyes. He let her be, simply giving her a smile.

"Maybe...maybe you could...call me that. Sometimes."

"I will, then. I will pick special occasions," he leaned closer, impish sparks in his eyes. "To make it yours again."

She pushed him away, gently, clearly flustered.

They ate in comfortable silence. After finishing their food, Vilkas changed Mori's bandages and applied the green mixture again. It was doing wonders - the horrid wounds were closing already.

"It's not as fast as a potion," Mori felt the need to defend her decision, "but it is also less invasive for the body. Easier and cheaper to make, too."

"I think I will go buy some from Yvaine," Vilkas muttered. "When possible, I like to avoid potions. They taste like shit."

"You should," Mori looked over her shoulder, "that way I can have you for myself again, if only for a bit."

"Hm. How about we meet in Whiterun, spend some time there, go to Lakeview and spend some more there as well?"

"O! Dare I even dream about that?"

He bent down to kiss her shoulder. "Is there something you don't dare, you little minx?"

"I could think of something. May I lay my head on your lap again?"

He made an inviting gesture. Mori laid down, sighing contentedly. "How did you get the Beast?" she murmured, her tone growing serious once more.

And here it comes.

"I drank some blood mixed with water."

She jumped up, wincing. "You did what?!"

"Didn't really have much choice in the matter," he gently pushed her back down. "Skjor was behind our backs the whole time and I'm pretty sure he'd kill us if I refused."

"I thought they were doing a ritual," Mori groaned. "I thought...since they look so established...they would have..."

"What's the difference?"

"Do you remember anything from it? Do you remember what you promised to the Hunter?"

"No."

"Oh, Vilkas," she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "I'm so sorry...no, you are not doomed, it's just...it's not a good way to do it...when you prepare for a ritual and do it right, you remember all of it. You can negotiate with the Hunter. Like this...you are beholden to a deal you don't know the details of."

"I thought it was just a disease."

"It acts like one in a way. But the Hunter is a spirit, a greater spirit. There is always a deal with the likes of them."

"One the mortal grows to regret?"

"Oftentimes."

He sighed. "It's too late to cry over spilled mead. Can you tell me more about it? There was no...guidance."

"You know about silver already. It will make you dizzy if you stay too close for too long, and cuts made with silver will heal slowly. Beware of wolfsbane and belladonna. Rowan might make you feel uncomfortable, definitely don't eat the berries. There are some secret wild magic practices and mixes to keep werewolves contained, but you probably won't run into anyone other than me who knows those. On the good side, you cannot contract any disease anymore, you will heal faster, and, well, you can utilise the Beast as you wish in and out of battle."

"What about other practical things? Like the eating."

"Hm. Not that much...probably don't be close to people during the Night of the Hunter? I will stay with you. I can make you not kill anyone. Oh," she turned melancholic again, "have you been...having dreams?"

"I can't sleep well anymore, no," he sighed. "There have been some, but from what Farkas told me, a lot less than what he has."

"You still have the hag stone, then?" she lit up.

"Of course I do. You gave it to me. I wouldn't have made it back after...the first time...had I not had the stone."

"Why? It's not that powerful," Mori frowned.

"It...it wasn't good," Vilkas looked away. His hand, so far caressing Mori's head for the whole conversation, stopped moving.

Mori growled. "They didn't take care of you, did they? I'll...I'm going to-"

"Shhh," he caressed her again. "What's been done has been done. The Silver Hand didn't catch me-"

"The Silver Hand!?" Mori almost jumped up. Vilkas had to press against her shoulder to prevent her from hurting herself. "That's-that's-those are the-the ones-"

"Aye."

She made a cat-like noise, a mix of grief and outrage. With the Beast in him, he could feel it, as well as the pull of her will grasping at him.

"Mori, stop, you're affecting me," he bent over to hug her.

She took a deep breath. As she breathed out slowly, the pressure in his ribs faded. "Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't worry about it," he soothed, "I can deal with my people on my own. I'd much prefer our time together to not be about them. I'd like it to be about us."

She murmured in assent. "You know, some werewolves were known to be able to compel wild beasts to their will. We should try it sometime."

"Like you do?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't met many, and spoke to even less. But it sounds familiar."

"Mhm."

She grew quiet. Vilkas straightened up and resumed caressing her hair.

"Can you wait with me until my back heals better? One more day should do it," she tried to sound confident, but Vilkas detected the yearning and hidden plea.

"I can," he chuckled.

"Won't the Companions be angry about your absence?"

"Maybe Skjor? The thing is, we are not beholden to orders of someone like other groups. Every man, his own, every woman, her own. No leaders and no orders. We are supposed to work together, yes, but...if I decide to spend time as I want, and don't do anything to sully the honor of the Companions, no one can do anything about it."

"But before you were worried about Skjor killing you."

"That was different. That's...he's invested into the Circle thing. The whole werewolf business. I heard he was pressing on Kodlak to change us, but also, if it meant keeping the secret, he would go after us."

"I feel some dissonance there," Mori frowned.

"Well...yes. The whole matter is...complicated. I don't know enough yet to make a proper sense of it."

"Look for how the deal was first made," she murmured. "That's going to be the root of it."

"I don't have to try to summon a daedric Prince, do I?"

"Don't do that. It comes with a price, always. Maybe your leader will know."

"You mean Kodlak? He's the Harbinger, not leader...but yes, it would make sense." Vilkas sighed. "Getting information out of him won't be easy."

"By the way - I detected sixteen werewolves earlier. Including you. Are they all Companions?"

"No," Vilkas' expression darkened. "There's a...secret cultist village. The Circle have some sort of deal with them, to help keep them safe from authorities in exchange for their mightiest Huntress."

"They might know about the Companions' deal with the Hunter."

"Perhaps. I don't think anyone will share anything with me, though. The men hate me, Aela will dislike me too much after she realises I don't want to play pack with her and the two ladies besides Aela are too timid."

"Play pack?" Mori frowned.

"Don't worry about it."

"I think I should," she growled. "Vilkas, you are not alone, don't deal with life as if you are."

"Alright, I will try, but Mori dearest, please, don't do anything bad to her."

"I won't. Maybe I will just listen to your woes," she huffed and made herself more comfortable. "You can ease up your burdens with me."

"...I wasn't expecting that."

"Of course I wish to snap her neck," Mori bared her teeth, prolonging into fangs, up at him. "But I know that is not always the answer." Her fangs shortened into teeth again.

"I will complain to you all you like, just keep away from snapping necks," he chuckled. "Though let's return to werewolves, if you don't mind. I want to know as much as possible."

"I don't think you have the time for me to recite all the vateshran tales and secret witch lore," Mori smiled, her hostility evaporating like steam above a pot.

"You wouldn't recite it anyway," he touched the tip of her nose. "At least not for me."

"Some of it," she arched her neck to kiss his finger. "I have already shared bits. What do you want to know? It is hard to pull things out of my head without some starting points."

"Well, I managed to call the Beast just a little - my senses would get better, I could run faster and similar. But soon it started to rile up and make me shift. What is that?"

"Oh! Hm. Imagine it as this - the Wolf is infused in your soul, but you and it are not one. When you transform fully, it gets so pronounced it might seem like you are. But, even when mooncrazed, you are never the Wolf itself. It just controls you. What you were doing was trying to siphon it and control it on your terms."

"Is it possible to do without it overpowering me?"

"Yes. It requires a strong will and experience. Similar to when you change and retain your consciousness."

"I...sometimes hear a voice, telling me to kill. To hunt. Is that the Wolf?"

"Yes. The dreams too."

"So...I basically have to learn how to control the Wolf and use portions of the power it brings. Can you help me?"

"I can make sure you won't lose yourself to it. But you will have to master it on your own by trying."

"Can we do that now?"

"Mhm." Mori closed her eyes. Vilkas could feel something akin to a gentle breeze, but inside his own...essence. "I made a barrier the Beast cannot get over. Go on."

XXX

Vilkas exhaled. "I can't do it anymore," he leaned back against the cave wall. "Why is it so exhausting?"

"You did well," Mori released her spell and relaxed. "Your Wolf is...not an easy one to deal with. Yet you managed to try for a few hours. I'm impressed."

She could see how pleased he was with her praise.

"You should eat and sleep, though," she caressed his thigh again. I want to touch him more, so much more. "It doesn't take as much energy as a full transformation does, but it still is extra."

"Are you trying to fatten me up?" he sighed, but complied, cutting bread and dried meat for both of them. "There's not much supplies left, though."

"I should be able to go tomorrow," Mori rolled her shoulders. Dull ache spread through her back. "I could change and hunt-"

"Nuh-uh," he waved his slice of bread in front of her nose. "You heal. Let me take care of you."

"Alright," she purred, giving him a look, "I'll allow it. But I will dig for roots if I see anything. There ought to be quite a few around here, even if not too filling..."

"Acceptable. Just don't hurt yourself."

"It'll be fine tomorrow. That reminds me, I will need to show you some plants through the next year - they are not connected strictly to werewolves, but would be of use nonetheless, like silverweed, stream root or goat's beard."

After they finished eating, Vilkas asked: "You mentioned vateshran tales about werewolves. Could you recite one for me?"

"I could. But," she grinned, "I want you to hold me."

XXX

The next day after breakfast, Vilkas removed Mori's bandages. He had washed her hair with water from melted snow before, getting the dry blood off. Now he was inspecting her wounds.

One of his hands rested at her shoulder.

It made her antsy.

They were supposed to leave if her wounds healed more, which they did.

I don't want to leave yet. I want some more alone time. I want his hands wandering, without fear of aggravating a wound.

He won't do that in Whiterun.

Too many people.

"Looks pretty good," he muttered. "Maybe-"

"Vilkas," Mori half turned around.

"What is it?" his voice remained steady even though his face, clean from warpaint, flushed red.

She turned fully. She threw her hair back over her shoulders, revealing naked skin.

"Ah..." his eyes slid down before he stopped himself and looked at her face. "What are you-"

"I want more kisses," she made her way to where he was sitting, looking into his eyes intently. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"N-no, I was-was just not expecting-" he reached out to her shoulders, but dropped his arms mid-move.

She pressed a hand against his chest. Gently.

He allowed her to push him down on his back. "That's not what I imagined under the term kissing."

"Is it bad?"

"No."

She straddled him, sitting on his stomach.

Let's try the thing I was thinking of for a long time now...

She grabbed his wrists and pinned them next to his head. His breathing became unsteady, sometimes catching a larger gulp of air and sometimes forgetting to breathe in anticipation.

She kissed him, softly, tenderly, then withdrew.

"Remember when we met for the first time after years?" she whispered, sliding her hands down next to his, releasing him. "This time, you can touch me like you wanted back then."

"I remember," he hummed. He raised one hand, sliding his fingertips along her cheek. He moved, curling his fingers along the back of her head. He pulled her in for a kiss.

Mori shivered. I hope it never stops feeling so good.

"I want to touch you more now, though," he whispered against her skin. He followed the line of her neck, circled her shoulder and then traced her collar bone.

Mori was used to her wild urges. They were what prompted her to act so boldly these two days. This...new and disarming softness, intimacy...she didn't know how to deal with. It made her into a deer freezing in front of a hunter.

And yet...

"You should touch me more," her voice was strangely shaky. I don't know how to feel about that. It's what I want. Why am I so nervous? I was about to devour him. Now I am shaking like a leaf at the slightest of touches.

And I like it.

His eyes, the same eyes that captivated her all those years ago, were looking at her lovingly, turning from cold murderous glint of steel into the soft gaze of a star.

He continued down her chest bone, trailing it with the tips of his fingers. As he did, he lowered his eyes to marvel at her body.

Satisfaction flared in her. It melted into a new, tantalising feeling once he put both his hands on her ribs. First his fingers danced lightly across her skin, then he grabbed her and pulled her down.

"I want you to touch me too," his voice was low and soft.

The wild side of her flared again. She turned her head, trailing kisses all the way to his mouth. She bit his lip and slid her hands under his shirt.

He breathed in sharply. His whole body tensed, but not in a bad way. When she started running her hands across his sides and stomach, she felt his lips curl into a smile.

Mori lifted herself up, eliciting an unhappy noise from him. She gave him a sweetly wicked smile, grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it up.

His eyes widened. Nonetheless, he arched his back and then bent forwards to allow her to pull it over his head.

She dropped the cloth to the side. Now it was her who marveled, letting her eyes wander.

She stopped on the scar slashing across his stomach.

She reached out, trailing it softly. "We match," her eyes darted to his.

Sadness crept into them. "Aye," he moved her hair to the side and looked at her stomach. She grimaced. Many more scars criss-crossed hers.

Does he think they're ugly?

He grabbed her hips, pulling her forward. "I saw that face. What are you thinking, Mori?"

"Nothing important."

"Share your woes," he started caressing her thighs. "I need to know what you are thinking."

"Do you...do you think my scars are ugly?"

"No," he looked again. His hands followed his gaze. "I just wish you didn't have to have them."

Upon looking into his eyes, relief flooded her. He meant it. I'm glad.

All the wildness left her. She curled up on his chest, soothed by the skin contact. "Hold me," she pleaded.

He wrapped his arms around her carefully, planting a kiss on the top of her head. After a while of soothing, he said: "Scars are a testament of your tenacity. Life threw danger at you and you survived. Take pride in them."

"What if I got them due to my own stupidity? Like the one on my shoulder," she mumbled.

"You learnt something. That's good too, isn't it?"

She laughed. "Perhaps."

Vilkas ran his fingers across the shoulder scar. "You will always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me."

Mori felt heat flushing into her cheeks.

He caught onto her flusteredness. She could tell from the change in his demeanor - she knew it well, she used it on him just a moment ago.

He ran his fingers across her back. When she glanced up, she could see an impish smile on his lips. "Your skin is so soft," he purred into her hair, making her shiver. "You smell like a forest in winter," he continued in a low, enchanting voice, one hand combing through the long strands of her hair, "and your hair looks like sunlit snow."

She lifted herself a bit, as much as her limbs felt weak and shaky. She wanted to see his eyes.

Gentle. Sensual. Impish. The look he was giving her reached her very core, sending tremors through her.

There is something so very tantalising about having a man so dangerous and controlled turn such a soft, warm gaze my way.

Well. This one specific man.

His hands slid down to her hips. "Your eyes are like midnight, soft, mysterious and bottomless," he leaned in, kissing her slowly, softly, gently refusing any attempts for a more primal kiss.

Sweet torture.

Mori pushed her hands against his chest. She desperately needed to touch, to feel him more.

He parted from her lips. "I love the way you laugh," he breathed into her neck, then brushed his lips against the skin.

Mori shivered. When he started trailing kisses down her neck, she couldn't help but make noises.

What is this? I can't stop it.

I don't want to stop it. It feels good, even if I can't control myself.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing her even closer. "Such sweet sounds you make, my dear maiden." His voice was shaky as well, full of yearning.

How is he doing that? I know he's as ravenous for me as I am for him. And yet he's here making me squeal and want for more.

He kissed the spot where her clavicles met. Then he continued back up her neck, making her angle her head back to expose more skin to him.

Tentatively, his other hand moved to her butt.

She purred, planting a kiss on him this time. She mimicked what he did before.

I want to bite him.

She did. Vilkas gasped, squeezing her harder. Mori smiled and continued what she was doing, leaving small bruises behind.