The next day, even though it wasn't time, Vilkas grabbed the letter Farkas helped him compose and hurried to the pool.

Why did I even go to the fucking temple? I just need to clear things with Mori. That and nothing else. She can tell me about how she deals with the...amount...of it all later. Or not. Just her purring will ease the strain. Just seeing her. Just...

Of course, the pool area remained empty, save all the little woodland beings he didn't use to be so aware of. He had thought he was quite perceptive towards spotting hares and foxes or catching and recognising bird songs, but now he realised how lacking that view was.

That's probably what Embla had meant when she said it wasn't good enough.

I hope she didn't run into Mori.

He left the letter and a lavender wreath in a safe, but known spot and left, carefully avoiding touching the water.

XXX

She wasn't there.

He waited for hours and she didn't come.

Frozen fear grasped at him, making his back and rib cage feel like a chunk of centuries old ice.

No, don't despair, let's look at the letter first.

It was missing.

I hope it was her. It must have been her. I made sure no beast could just snatch it. Wait. Does that mean she doesn't want to see me?

No. Give it some time. She's usually shy around others, no? Spending all the time roaming around the woods as a leopard? Definitely more reserved than your average person when feeling unwanted.

Gods. Please, come back, Mori.

XXX

Late summer, 4E 189, somewhere around Riverwood

Vilkas managed to track his prey, an escaped prisoner, all the way to these mountains. The man had avoided Riverwood in daylight, but still managed to steal some things from its residents.

He should be focusing on finding the hiding place, but his thoughts went everywhere but the job.

If he hurried, he could make it in time to the pool.

Will Mori be there? Should I go to Lakeview if not? I should. I will. Damn the Silver Hand, I don't care.

Right. I should find the criminal as fast as possible, then. Let's get to it.

XXX

In a day's time, he managed to discover the hiding spot - an old tower high up the peaks of Bleak Falls mountains, overlooking Riverwood in the depths below.

He did a quick survey. It seemed the man was alone, camping in the tower ruins. He was just preparing food.

Perfect opportunity.

Vilkas took his bow and nocked an arrow at it. The man was moving about at the bottom of the tower, chopping something, his back to the open door.

Vilkas drew the bow, aiming carefully. Kidney shot should do it.

The arrow flew.

As it buried in its mark, he knew the hit would be fatal, even if not immediately. Well, time to finish the job with a saex.

Another arrow would have been preferable, but the criminal had backed into the tower, leaving splotches of blood behind.

Vilkas dropped the bow.

I can always pick it up later.

He rushed to the tower, blade in hand. He blocked the criminal's attack with his shield as he moved inside. The man was losing blood fast.

A bash with the shield pressed him against the wall. Vilkas stabbed into the stomach, twisted the saex and tore the blade out. He stepped back, out of reach of the flailing arms.

Once the movements lessened, he went back and grabbed the greasy hair. He pulled the man's head up and slit his throat.

This guy was a terror that killed guards on the way?

He looked at the wanted poster again. Yes, the face matched. He shrugged. Time to cut the head off.

After he walked out of the tower with his dripping trophy, he went over to his bow.

He bent to pick it up.

An arrow flew above him, right where his body would have been had he not bent.

Damnit!

He left the bow, sprinting to hide behind a tree. Another arrow whished by, closely missing him.

Stupid! That's what being sloppy will get you, you fucking idiot!

He slid further into the woods, heading northwards. They could hear him, but he could also hear them. And shooting would be harder.

From the amount of steps and branches crunching, he guessed three. He could deal with three.

He continued fleeing. Soon there ought to be a cliffside opening. He should be able to stand his ground there, blocking arrows with a shield and facing one of them at a time.

He didn't hide his presence, crushing sticks beneath his boots and running through branches.

They kept pursuing.

The cliffs should be here.

Finally!

Huffing, he spun around, raising his shield. He stepped back some more, so the cliff hid him at least partially from the archer. To his right, the stone pathway fell straight down.

The three emerged from the woods. They stopped, seeing him prepared. One of them stepped forward, drew a bow and released. Vilkas blocked it.

"I want that horker's ass dead!" a large man shouted, sending two women, one of which was the archer, forward. "Gut him!"

The archer tried another shot. Vilkas blocked again. The other woman went forward, axe in hand.

Troublesome. She might swipe my shield if she's good enough.

He backed even further, making their fighting space more even. She attacked. He blocked, immediately stabbing forward with the saex. She turned sideways, narrowly avoiding the blade. Vilkas withdrew, saving his arm from the blade of her axe.

She swung again. Vilkas raised his shield. She changed the direction, hooking it on the top. Before she could pull, Vilkas kicked her shin. The steel covering the tip of his boot hit hard. She screamed, losing the strength on her grip.

As she staggered, Vilkas sheathed the saex. Before she could regain composure, he grabbed at her, finding purchase on her arm. With a grunt, he jerked her sideways, putting all his strength into it.

Screaming, she flew down the cliff.

On instinct, he raised his shield. The hit landed. Another bit into his thigh, right under the chainmail.

Forcing back a yelp of pain, he pushed forward. He slammed her with the shield. Another slam gave him enough time to get the saex in hand again. She clearly wasn't used to fighting. A stab through her abdomen made sure she wouldn't last long.

Vilkas backed away, panting. His lungs ached from the run and his leg pulsed with pain. He needed to get a potion.

But the third one-

His head exploded with pain. As he cried out in pain, the air coming to his lungs...burnt. Coughs shook his whole body.

Glass pieces clicked under his boots.

Damnit. What just broke on my helmet?

Another bottle landed at his feet. It released violently green gas as it broke, making the coughing worse. Vilkas backed away in panic.

There's a way up the ledge in the back. I need to get there!

"Running won't save you-u-u-u-u," a raspy voice sang out from the beginning of the cliff. "You breathed it in. I will enjoy your desperate gasps for air!"

Vilkas tried ignoring it. Limping, he hurried to the ledge. While climbing, his coughing worsened, almost causing him to fall.

He made it up. The cough became so strong he couldn't force it down. He gasped for air between the violent shakes to his body, all the while listening to a maniacal laughter coming in from below.

His mouth tasted metallic.

He pulled himself up with difficulty. Droplets of blood glistened in the grass under him and on his glove.

It's mine...

He had wanted to throw rocks at the bandit while he climbed, but he was already up, approaching him with a mace in hand.

"You killed my boss, pretty boy. So now I will enjoy squeezing the life out of you. A man needs compensation."

Vilkas mustered himself up, dropping the shield and drawing the longsword.

"Fiery. I like it. Makes it all more enjoyable."

He charged. Vilkas swung at him, forcing him to step away from the longsword. His arms weighed him down, like mountains. He felt his whole body shaking and shivering, another coughing fit scratching in his throat.

He went into the offensive, wishing to wipe the smug smile off of the bastard's face, if nothing else. He mustered all he had, raging with each swing.

The bandit had to fight now. He was slow. Vilkas' attacks reached through his defense, opening his flesh.

Blood dripping down his face, the bandit grinned.

Vilkas screamed, rushing into another attack. Gone were the elegant, swift movements. This was just a brutal assault.

"Like a rabid dog, yes!" the maniac laughed and laughed.

A cough broke through Vilkas' rage.

The bandit jumped in, mace in full swing.

Vilkas cried out in pain as his arm broke, the longsword flying away. Next, the bandit body slammed him. Vilkas lost his footing. He landed on the ground, air forced out of his lungs.

A desperate gasp for air later, a heavy body straddled him, fingers wrapping around his throat.

Vilkas clawed at the fingers. He twisted, used his knees, tried to wriggle free from the iron grip.

Futile.

When he almost reached his saex, the bandit growled, grabbing his broken arm. He slammed it to the ground, squeezing it violently. The grip on Vilkas' throat released a little bit, just enough to let him scream in pain.

Vilkas started losing consciousness.

"That's it, stop struggling now, just gasp, gasp for the last drops of air..."

As his body grew heavy, Vilkas' vision went black.

XXX

The previous day

Farkas and Helgi just arrived at Riverwood. They had been hunting for a monstrous bear endangering people around Helgen, which made for a perfect opportunity for Farkas to go investigate Silver Hand's presence in the town.

"Let's spend the night here, then continue towards Whiterun," he turned to Helgi.

"A-ha, you don't want to camp in the wilds tonight?" she teased.

"Do you?"

"Nah."

"Great. Let's get a room!"

After they ate, just as Farkas was looking to chat up any ladies or beautiful gentlemen around, he...froze.

"Is something-"

"You go back to Jorrvaskr tomorrow," Farkas jumped from his chair, pale and tense. He didn't pay any attention to his pack, filled with the precious juniper berry mead he had spent so much time negotiating over in Helgen.

"Wha-"

Farkas was already gone.

XXX

Present day

It was getting closer. Farkas rushed the horse once more.

He knew the feeling. The horrible, gaping premonition, seeded deep inside his gut.

Vilkas was in danger.

Dying.

It was by pure miracle the horse didn't break any legs with how Farkas ran it.

Another branch hit his shoulder. Farkas ignored it. The feeling was so intense he wanted to vomit. Vilkas was near.

A clearing opened in front of him out of nowhere. It ended up in cliffs.

Vilkas' struggle was just ending.

A nasty, burly man in light boiled leather armor was sitting on top of him, laughing, squeezing his throat.

No.

No!

Just as Farkas drew his battleaxe to throw it, a horrible shriek tore the air, strangely feminine and bestial at once.

A tiny figure sped through the area, unnaturally fast. In its wake, wisps of angrily flickering blue magic followed.

She jumped.

Ghostly mass of a bear appeared all around her. An echo of a bear's roar followed after her.

She hit. The bandit flew away as if confronted by a real bear.

Screaming her lungs out even more, she vaulted over Vilkas' body, hands covered in spectral bear arms stretching over to the bandit.

Farkas jumped off of the horse and hurried to his brother.

A horrible squelch followed by loud snapping made him look. Mori, because it must have been her, had her arm sticking out of the man's chest, hand inside the ribcage.

With a growl that made all of Farkas' hairs stand, she pulled the man's heart out.

She dropped the corpse on the ground.

Her head turned towards Vilkas and Farkas, sitting right next to him.

Farkas didn't really get a clear look at her. What he saw mostly consisted of long, messy flaxen hair, lean muscular limbs and feral eyes. He couldn't help it, instead of the naked form, his gaze was drawn by the bloody heart in her hand.

None of it was important.

"He's almost dead," he whispered, taking Vilkas' head into his lap. There was no pulse on his throat, no breaths. But the feeling inside that had been present their whole lives hadn't faded yet.

The ghastly bear figure dissipated into innumerable wisps and the feral glint in the dark eyes died out. She squeezed the heart.

With a disgusting squelch it turned into a globule of red energy. Its look reminded Farkas of blood still.

She rushed back to their side. Kneeling down, she slammed the bloody globule into Vilkas' chest. Chanting unknown words, her left hand began pushing and pulling back in the air in rhythmic motion. It reminded Farkas of...breathing...

A fragile pulse appeared under his fingers.

Mori hissed, adding more power to her movements.

Vilkas' chest began rising and falling, weakly, alongside her hand. But the breathing wasn't good. It sounded wheezy. Barely going through.

"Tch," Mori jerked her head. Her right hand, still resting on Vilkas' chest, lit up with spectral claws. Before Farkas could even react, she slid the claws across the leather straps, holding the breastplate in place. She grabbed the front plate and threw it away, as if it weren't more than a little pebble.

It clattered on the ground quite the distance away.

Without ceasing the movement of her left hand, Mori sunk the spectral claw into the chainmail. She pulled down.

Farkas' eyes widened as the steel opened like butter under a knife. Precisely and cleanly, the chainmail was split from top to bottom. And only that one column of rings had been cut.

Mori moved the chainmail to the side. Still dissatisfied, she performed one more precision cut on Vilkas' shirt. After that, the claws disappeared. Instead, her hand lit up with a faint green light. She put it on his bare skin.

She frowned.

Farkas wanted to ask what was wrong, but decided not to interrupt her.

She uttered a word that must have been a curse in Reachspeech, her eyes darting towards the bandit's heartless corpse.

She laid her right hand on the ground, her face contorting with effort.

Echoes of rushing water ran through Farkas' brain. He could hear the beating of hooves and calls of unknown beasts. For a moment, his body grew heavy, as heavy as the mountains, then light like the wind.

He blinked and it went away.

Mori grunted. Straining, she pulled her right hand up. As she did, spectral saplings followed. They grew taller, taller and taller, taking on the form of ancient gnarled junipers. As Mori struggled, a spectral grove grew around them, encompassing them in a perfect circle.

Pale blue wisps started rising from the ground, floating around in a whimsical dance.

Mori was sweating, her breathing growing haggard. The trees flickered. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then they settled.

She let out a relieved sigh. Her right hand went back to Vilkas, resting just below his throat. She began whispering and moving her fingers in patterns across his skin.

Little sparks of magic condensed on the tips of her fingers and seeped into him.

Slowly, his wheezing breaths grew better, fuller. Mori lowered the pressure of her left hand carefully.

Vilkas' breathing didn't stop. At one point, he started coughing violently, spurting sickly looking blood. After the blood left his body, his breathing calmed and deepened.

Pleased, Mori slowed her breath motions, lowering the left hand towards Vilkas' obviously broken arm. She stopped the motions, eyes trained on his chest. The breaths hitched a little, but then continued steadily.

With a little satisfied nod, she removed his bracer and sleeve in the same surgical fashion she did the rest of his armor. Gently, she began drawing symbols on his skin, leaving faintly glowing trails that would sink in after a while.

Farkas had to avert his eyes. There was something deeply disturbing about seeing the bones move back to place.

Vilkas started fidgeting. As the bones moved, he would whimper in pain. When they cracked back, his eyes even fluttered open with a soft gasp. They were hazy and unfocused.

And yet, Mori quickly reached out and covered Vilkas' eyes with her hand. She shot a nervous look at Farkas.

He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but with all that had happened, he wasn't entirely sure if it came that way.

She tapped Vilkas' arm nervously, then caressed it. Satisfied with her work, she stretched over to his leg. Farkas could see she was starting to run out of energy, her tensed shoulders moving up and her fingers shaking slightly.

But the wound on Vilkas' thigh cleaned and closed, just like the rest of the damage.

Mori let out a long, tired breath, slumping forward. The spectral trees immediately began to dissipate, filling the air with blue sparks.

"Mo...ri?" Vilkas whispered, his voice barely there.

She startled, hunching as if ready to pounce. The hand covering Vilkas' eyes flashed purple. His body went lax again.

She looked at Farkas, a little bit of ferocity creeping back to her eyes. Then her eyes turned surprisingly tender as she turned down to Vilkas. She lifted her hand, letting her fingers slide down his cheek in a caress.

"He sleeps," she spoke towards Farkas, head still down. "He will heal better in the magical slumber. He will sleep long." She looked up. "Take him home."

"I will," he nodded. "You should meet him next time, though. Don't run away."

She stared at him, her eyes becoming unreadable. At one moment, Farkas had to blink. When his eyes opened again, she was gone.

Only the blue wisps still dancing whimsically in the air and a cold, heartless corpse were proving she had ever been there. Farkas looked down. That and his living brother.

He gently laid Vilkas' head down, got up, gathered all the gear, took the split armor off of him and packed it all to the patiently waiting horse.

Riding back holding him will be a pain. But much better than having to deal with a dead brother.

Anything was better than that.

XXX

"Chief! You're...back..." Helgi's cheer died out once she realised what she was seeing. Farkas looked up.

"I thought I told you to go back."

"Well, you two said there were no leaders among the Companions, and I should rely on my counsel," she got up and went to help him with unconscious Vilkas. "I figured you'd be back for your precious mead, so I guarded it for you."

Farkas stretched and groaned after they laid Vilkas to a bed. "Boy, he's heavy. Guarded it for me, huh? How many bottles are left?"

"I took just one," Helgi raised the bottle from her pack. "And left it to drink together with the others."

"Eh, just grab a few more," Farkas waved his hand. "I'm feeling generous today."

"So what happened, chief?" Helgi motioned towards Vilkas as she took three more bottles. There were still plenty of them left in the stash.

"I don't know. I arrived after it all went down, really."

"But I know you didn't have any potions. You left them here. If he's out, how did you-"

"There was...help. Let's say the wilds have favoured him today."

"You look shaken. You're never shaken. What-"

"Leave it," Farkas yawned. "The important part is, he's not dead. Let's pay for some more food, drink and rooms."

XXX

"Is he bewitched?" Helgi looked at Vilkas with suspicion. He woke from time to time, to drink, eat and overall make sure the body had what it needed, but his gaze remained hazy, he didn't react and afterwards he immediately fell asleep again.

"Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Look, I don't know magic. She said he will sleep and heal."

"She?"

"Yep, she. You'll meet her if circumstances allow, I'm sure. Let's just continue. We're almost home."

XXX

As they walked through Whiterun, people turned to stare. Helgi drew closer to Farkas, carrying Vilkas over his shoulders.

"Does this happen often?"

"Not really, usually you don't bring them back," Farkas breathed out. "Sometimes we do bring someone to the temple, though." His face darkened. "I'm not going there anymore, though. Not a single copper from me for those snakes, nuh-uh."

The priestesses were tending to the Gildergreen when Farkas and Helgi came to the tree's square. When they spotted them, Danica scoffed, but then started approaching. "You can take him-"

"Fuck off," Farkas growled. "We don't need nor want you. I got help from someone much better. Go back to playing your little power games."

Danica remained rooted, her face frozen in shock. Imelda scoffed loudly. "Just you wait, he'll probably die of dirtied blood!"

Inge remained silent. But after the other two turned around and left, she hurried after the Companions.

"Wait, please! I don't want to bother you, I just," she stopped a small distance away from them, "I just wanted to let you know that my friend is working at Arcadia's now. She's an alchemist and a physician. You should go ask her for healing next time. If you'd like." She fidgeted a little. "Uhm. Sorry. I'll go back."

They both watched her hurry away.

"I wish she was the head priestess," Farkas grumbled. "But then again, these shitty relations are mostly on me. Let's go."

XXX

Vilkas opened his eyes.

Where am I? Wait, is this my room?

He tried to prop himself up. He winced as a headache hit him like a hammer.

"Whoa, slow down, slow down," Farkas pushed him back to bed gently, but firmly.

"Brother? How did-"

"Helgi and I carried you here like a sack of potatoes," Farkas grinned. He reached to the side and popped a snack in his mouth. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? I asked Tilma for your tea."

"No food," Vilkas winced again as he pulled himself to a sitting position, this time slowly and carefully. "Give me the tea."

Farkas let him drink. After Vilkas put the mug down, he asked: "So what do you remember?"

"I fucked up," Vilkas frowned. "I was careless. There were more people than expected and I didn't check."

"And after?"

"I ran...fought them on a cliff...the maniac threw something at me, I couldn't breathe. We fought..."

Vilkas' hand went to his throat. "He was strangling me...and my arm was broken. Why is it not broken? You didn't take me to the temple, did you?"

"No." Farkas leaned forward, all cheer gone from his face. "Don't ever be careless like that again, brother. Don't do this to me. You were basically dead!"

"Dead?"

"You weren't breathing!" Farkas' voice grew louder than intended, cracking at the end. "You had no heartbeat! I felt you...slipping...away from me."

"Then-"

Farkas hung his head. "She came." He looked up again, fingers intertwined, thumbs twiddling nervously. "I'll have to thank her. She saved your stupid careless ass."

"Mori?"

"Yep. The one and only. I wouldn't have gotten there in time, you know?" his voice cracked even more. "And even if I did, I wouldn't have been able to do anything, because I left my bag with potions behind like a dimwit!"

Farkas leaned against the back of the chair. His leg started bouncing. "I must say you have the weirdest taste. She's terrifying. She just...flew in, punched the dude, tiny as she is, and then ripped his heart out. Straight out of his chest, would you believe that?!"

"Wait, she was human?"

"In shape for sure. But the way her eyes looked didn't feel too human to me. Feral, I tell you." He shuddered. He looked back at Vilkas and all traces of scare melted into a sly smile. "She healed you. Forced you to breathe with just the power of will, or something. The way she looked so desperate - she's deeeefinitely in love with you. She also had fangs. You'll have a good time with her, I'm sure."

Vilkas ignored the remark. "What did she look like?"

"I can't really tell you many details," Farkas tapped his knee. "She looked messier than my mornings. I was also a LITTLE bothered about you dying!" He huffed. "Anyway. Long blonde hair, just like the little one. Hers was all tangled up, though. Hid a lot of detail. Like I said, I noticed some fangs in her mouth, when she was growling like a wild beast. Oh, you might like this, she was tiny. Really. A lot smaller than you. I bet I could lift her with one hand."

Vilkas groaned.

Farkas chuckled. "She looked strong, though. Probably spends a lot of time running around. And one more thing - she had plenty of scars on her."

"On the stomach?"

"Didn't look there," Farkas shrugged. "I tend not to ogle ladies who could slash me in half. No, I saw some on her forearms, one on the shoulder and a few on legs."

He got up and picked Vilkas' chainmail. He flapped the open front. "She did this. See how clear the cut is? I'd prepare healing potions for fun times, if I were you. Your back will look horrible."

"Shut up," Vilkas turned bright red.

"That will have to wait some time, though," Farkas put the chainmail away and poked Vilkas in the forehead. "Because for now, I'm not letting you out of my sight! Not until I make sure you're back at it. Not until I'm sure you won't be careless again."

Before Vilkas could protest, Farkas scratched his beard. "Well, alright, you can go meet her. But I will be in running distance! Not hearing distance, don't worry. I asked her to come for your little meetup next time. Let's hope she will be there."

With that, he patted Vilkas on the shoulder and left him with his confused thoughts.

XXX

I always liked the aesthetics of Warden spells in ESO. And playing the class too! Since they're cannon, I decided to borrow their spells for Mori and then add my own flair to it.