Mori was upset.
She was sitting at the pool, snowflakes gathering on the dense fur of her leopard form. This was the third meeting in a row Vilkas had missed.
She got the note. She managed to read it. She understood his circumstances.
And yet...
She felt upset.
She missed his little smiles. The soothing tone of his voice. Even the game they had been playing - him trying to get closer and her not allowing it outright because of this strange feeling she had.
She wanted him to get closer. But also...
The thought was terrifying.
Her tail swished from side to side. She wanted to see him so badly she would even allow him to touch her fur. Or feathers.
Maybe.
Her claws went in and out, in and out.
With a frustrated growl, she shifted into a woman. She took a piece of paper out of her pouch - not the one Vilkas had left her, she wanted to keep that one - and scribbled a short message on it with great difficulty.
Once she finished, she rolled it up and called a raven. She gave the bird some food and then asked it to deliver the message to Lakeview.
After the bird confirmed and left, she herself transformed into a crow. She spread her wings and turned up north, to Whiterun.
XXX
"Why do we have to do the same moves over and over, Vilkas?" Helgi complained.
It was always something with her.
Am I starting to understand Skjor? Oh gods, please no.
"It's basic stuff. Why don't we learn some of the real stuff? Aren't we doing well?"
"You are," Vilkas resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "But you haven't gotten over to the most important part - your body memorising the moves, not your head."
"What's that hogwash about?"
"You need to react immediately," Vilkas feinted a hit with his sword. Helgi reacted, but a tad too late. "When you get jumped like that, you freeze for a moment, because you are trying to remember what you should be doing. That's bad. That will cost you your life. You need to do it, not remember to do it."
He withdrew. "So train them until you can do them in the heat of the moment. Then we'll get to the real stuff."
He walked around, correcting any mistakes he could find. Once he rounded back to Helgi, he feinted another hit.
"Better," he nodded after she raised her shield. "Keep it up, Helgi, you'll be a menace with an axe if you do."
Farkas arrived some time later.
"I got more of the blunt arrows you wanted," he put down two boxes. "I'll be back with more."
"How much did it cost?" Vilkas worried a little. They had been doing better with Deirdre actually managing the hall, but still, nowhere near what Jorrvaskr should be.
"Don't worry, Didi said it was within our means," Farkas winked. "Oh! She asked me to tell you to stop by once you're done. She wanted to talk about pricing and jobs."
"After archery training," Vilkas huffed. "You can take them then."
Farkas nodded, then ran off for more ammo.
"At ease! Get a little rest, because next we are going to train archery. We got more blunt arrows, you know what that means!"
The non-archers groaned. It meant the archers would try to hit them and they would try to block.
XXX
When he finished talking with Deirdre, Farkas was still running the whelps around the training area in their chosen sets of armor.
He himself was running alongside them, giving tips.
Vilkas decided to rest on a bench. It was cold outside, but when a warm shelter was nearby, Vilkas liked to watch falling snow. With a mug of hot tea in hand, he turned his gaze towards the mountains, hidden by the haze of many snowflakes.
Did she find the note?
He found himself wondering about it too many times to count. He hoped she did. The thought of what might happen if she didn't made him feel uneasy.
He leaned back, looking up at the sky. He closed his eyes and let snowflakes dust his eyelashes.
Something disturbed him.
He dodged, turning to the source of disturbance. He blinked.
In disbelief, he stared at an onyx eyed white crow. She was sitting on a branch just above the spot he chose, staring back at him.
She ruffled her feathers. Turned her head so her other eye was closer to him. Then she cawed.
"Did you...come see me?" Vilkas' heart began beating faster.
She turned her head again in a very bird-like manner. "Tá," she mimicked.
That was Reachspeech for yes.
Before Vilkas could even start unpacking all the feelings rising up in him, she ruffled her feathers once more and then hopped on his shoulder.
His cheeks began burning hot.
"I'm...I'm glad to see you," he tried to control his excitement, but some slipped into his words nonetheless.
She made a kraa noise, like crows do, and adjusted her grip on his shoulder. Both of them grew quiet, enjoying each other's presence and feeling too shy to do anything.
"Can you stay for a while?" Vilkas asked, his voice soft.
"Tá."
"Did you fly over in that?" he looked at the now growing snowfall.
"Tá."
Is it her own voice she's mimicking? It sounds so sweet.
"How about we go inside? Warm up and eat something?"
"Tá!"
XXX
"I didn't know his face could do that," one of the recruits commented.
"Me neither," another shook her head.
"Why do you care?" Helgi was catching her breath. "Does it matter what his expressions look like when he's doing his things?"
"Aren't you curious why such a change of demeanour?"
"No. I want to see it when I am the source of it."
"He just likes animals," Farkas startled all three of them, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. "People, not so much. Hard to win him over. Especially people who yap their mouths and don't train. Chop chop, let's do more running!"
XXX
They got a few looks, but no one really commented on the sudden appearance of a white crow on Vilkas' shoulder.
Embla would notice. Luckily for me, she's out with Skjor and Kodlak.
It was almost time for dinner, so a proper meal had to wait still. He had built up a habit of storing snacks for himself, though. Some of his stashes haven't been discovered by Farkas.
He hesitated for a moment before entering his room. Bringing someone, even more so a lady, felt...strange. The ones who came on their own would usually just barge in.
But she's a crow, so it doesn't count.
"Care for a seat?" he bent so she could hop from his shoulder on the back of the only chair he had in his room. She did so.
"Just give me a moment," he started taking his armor off. He always wore it to training. Or generally, when he went outside. After he finally shook off the chainmail, he went to his bookcase, knelt on the ground and reached into a hidden spot in the wall.
"There. Today's lavender bread. Managed to save that one from Farkas. He doesn't really like my books, so he doesn't pay attention to the shelves."
Mori tilted her head to one side, then the other.
Vilkas pushed away some of the papers lying on the table and put the bread there. "It's yours, if you're hungry. Or you can wait and have some of the...I think we were supposed to have stew."
Mori pecked at the bread a little. Vilkas sat on the bed, heart beating wildly, and just...enjoyed her presence.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come."
She stopped pecking. She tilted her head, then jumped and flapped her wings. She landed on the bed next to him. She made crow noises. After some hesitation, she climbed on his hand.
The claws were slightly uncomfortable to the touch, just as the strangely scaly-feeling skin. All of that didn't matter. Vilkas felt like climbing the highest mountain. He was elated.
He got up, slowly and carefully, and moved over to the table. He sat down on the chair, pulled a leather bound tome to the front of the table and opened it. "I'm working on a bestiary," he started turning the pages. "Do you want to see? I divided it by region. Here, have a look at the map."
Mori didn't leave his hand. Instead she just leaned forward.
"I don't know how's your relationship with maps," Vilkas fidgeted a bit, "but here is Whiterun," he pointed it on the map, "and all of this is the Hold."
She cawed.
"Falkreath is here," he moved his finger. "Lakeview here, to the east. Markarth lies all the way to the west. That area," he made a circle," is the Reach. At least the Skyrim part. I wasn't able to get a map of the whole region yet. If there even is one."
Mori nodded. She looked here and there, then hopped off and walked over to the Pale. She looked up at him and cawed.
"That's the Pale Hold. The capital is called Dawnstar. Not the best of places," he shivered in delight as she once more perched on his arm. "It's windy, cold and miserable. You can find some giants in the area, though. Sadly, the jarl is not respecting the laws about giants and often tries to hire mercenaries to kill them."
The caw she made sounded outraged.
"They are treated better around Whiterun, though," he tried to calm her down. "And somewhat well in Eastmarch. Unless they go rampaging in the farms, people are prohibited to disturb or harm them."
Her feathers remained ruffled.
"It is what it is," Vilkas shrugged. "Nothing little people like us can do. But you wanted to see the beasts in the Pale?" he turned the pages. "I'm sure you know most of them. Sabre cats, wolves, ice wraiths, trolls..."
Mori stopped him from turning pages by jumping on the book. She tapped her beak on the drawing of a horker.
"That's a horker. You haven't seen any before? Well, I guess you didn't really leave the mountains before, did you?"
She shook her head.
"Well, they live mostly in water, but go to the shore to rest..."
XXX
Two days later
Mori was sitting on a branch of one of the smaller trees strewn about Jorrvaskr's area. She would watch the training sessions every day. It reminded her a little of her own childhood, when Orgoch, and, VERY rarely, their mother, would teach her things.
Strangely enough, she remembered their mother's teachings more than the woman herself. She could not dig a single clear memory of her looks, voice or scent.
Vilkas and Farkas were training the recruits, or, as she learnt, whelps, in archery and blocking at the moment. Yesterday they were playing fighting games, which made the whelps all energetic, but today's lessons were much more grounded.
Vilkas stopped the training. He took a shield and started showing something to the shieldbearers. Something about the grip. Mori didn't really understand the intricacies of shields.
Farkas moved to an archer recruit.
She turned her attention to him.
"Thoma, shoot at Vilkas," Farkas told the archer.
Mori ruffled her feathers. What was that supposed to mean?
Thoma obeyed. The shot was amateurish, but it still went after its mark. Vilkas was in the middle of explaining. The shot will hit him!
Before she could flap her wings, Vilkas moved. Effortless, fluid motion. The arrow made a thunk on the shield.
Some of the whelps' mouths opened in awe.
"Farkas, you dog!" Vilkas lowered the shield.
"And that," Farkas put his hands on his hips, "is why you lot need to practice, practice, practice. Aaaaaaall of those boring things. Steps and moves. So you can survive."
"I still don't appreciate the way you arranged the display," Vilkas grumbled, "but yes, he has a point." He put the shield down. "Now, back to it!"
Mori started putting her feathers back into their sleek elegance with her beak. She didn't appreciate it either. But she'd be lying if she denied how the display impressed her.
Such power. And control over one's own body. Strong, but soft and gentle when needed. Reminded her of wolves. Or large cats.
She caught herself staring.
Oh broken branches, he noticed.
She shook her tail plumage and assumed a pose of regal disinterest. Even so, she kept an eye out, which allowed her to catch a glimpse of a quickly hidden smile on Vilkas' face.
XXX
"I'm back!" Erika dropped on a chair in the hall and sighed. "So good to be home! Lemme tell you, the muddy roads are the worst thing in spring."
"Is it spring?" Farkas looked outside of the window. Snow was falling.
"It ought to be, according to the calendar," Erika commented. She grabbed a bowl of savory porridge with meat. "It's just that Kyne has different plans this year."
"Well, I say it's winter as long as the snow is this thick," Farkas folded his arms on his chest.
"Whatever suits your fancy," Erika shrugged. "How's the training?" she turned to Vilkas.
"Better than I expected," he glanced at her, then looked back to his book.
"You or the whelps?"
"Both. They're doing very good," he spoke more loudly so the whelps could hear him in the clamour of the hall.
"Aw, they look like pups, vying for your praise," Erika laughed and patted Vilkas on the back after all the recruits' faces lit up.
"It's well deserved." Vilkas looked up from his book. "For now. There's still a lot to go through."
"I wish I had you train me instead of Skjor and Embla. They threw me out immediately. You'll train ON jobs and between jobs, if you die, you didn't have the stones," Erika lowered her voice.
"And look how many left or died from that batch of whelps," Vilkas frowned.
"There's basically you, us two, Thun, Igrun, Vilga and Bori," Farkas counted on his fingers.
"It's sad. Luckily for me, I had no lofty aspirations when I joined," Erika grinned. "But hey, now that Deirdre is here, you two got a hand in the training and jobs keep coming, we'll get out of it."
XXX
They all congregated in Farkas' room for a change.
"Hey! That one is new," Erika noticed the white crow trailing after Vilkas.
"It's the one he's been secretly feeding in the mountains," Farkas whispered dramatically.
"Befriending crows, eh? Maybe you could send it to spy for us in New Moons, since Embla won't get off my back about them."
"I'm not sending her anywhere, she's not mine to order around," Vilkas dismissed that notion.
"Worth a try," Erika shrugged. She accepted a mug of Farkas' latest mixture. "Any guesses why the Circle is obsessed with that place? We've never had this much interest in any of the merc groups around."
"You know something, don't you?" Farkas looked at Vilkas after some time of silence.
"...aye. But Kodlak swore me to secrecy. It is a private thing I just...stumbled into."
"My, had I known going to crunch numbers would get me secret information, I might have studied harder," Erika made a face.
"It is shared between the members of the Circle," Vilkas' eyes moved away. "You might get to know it too. Besides...doesn't Embla have you spy on the band? It's possible you know more than I do."
Erika shook her head. "There's...nothing out of the ordinary, really. They just work like common mercenaries. The bandits in the area have lowered their raids, too. The jarl is happy with them."
"They don't walk around too much, though," Farkas wondered. "Never have I seen groups at work. Sometimes I run into the Moonshine Stags or Roaring Sabre Cats, but never into...what was their name?"
"The Silver Hand," Erika said. "Maybe you haven't recognised them, they don't really have a uniform or markings." She grew thoughtful. "I have seen them recruit in some run down villages and farms, though. Usually around the mountain range, or in other not so well off places, far away from civilization."
"That...is suspicious."
They drank in silence for a while.
Erika was the first to put down her mug. "Well, brothers, I will need to go to bed. I fear I'll fall asleep standing if I tarry too long."
"Good night, little sister," Farkas ruffled her hair with a grin.
"Little?! I'm three years older than you!"
"Yep. But I'M taller. And I have more brotherly experience than you do, so I get to be the big brother. Do you want me to tuck you in bed?"
"No!"
Vilkas, chuckling, bid them both a good night and withdrew to his room.
While he was washing his face, thoughts ran in his mind.
They must be werewolf hunters.
Is the forge meant to make weapons against werewolves? Silver seems to be working, what else could?
How do they know, though? Did some of the Companions decide to form their own band dedicated to killing werewolves after getting the Blood offer?
Something fluffy rubbed against his legs. He looked down. Mori, now in the shape of a white house cat with a coat texture similar to that of the leopard, purred and twirled her tail around his calf.
"Cats are your favourite, huh?" he smiled, dark thoughts stepping aside.
She meowed.
He sat on the bed. "Want to sit with me before I fall asleep?"
She jumped up, the very personification of feline grace. Cat shape really suits her.
I wonder what she looks like as a woman.
Vilkas shook his head. She tilted hers and gave an inquisitive mrrrrau.
"Oh. It's nothing. Just some thoughts I shouldn't be having right now." He felt his cheeks getting hotter, suddenly keenly aware of the fact that the small cat sitting on the bed with him is, in reality, a woman.
One he wanted to touch. Whose voice he wished to hear. One the thoughts of which kept him sane during the dark times of echoing loneliness when Farkas was away and he was left alone to fend against Bornolf and Skjor.
One who saved his life.
And now she came to see him. Because she missed him.
"I should go to sleep," he breathed out, running a hand through his hair. She mewed again, clearly worried.
"Ah, don't worry, it's...it will get better once I get a good sleep," he smiled.
In her eyes he could clearly see how skeptical she was, but she relented, moving so he could lie down.
He nestled into his blanket, curling on his side. "I'm glad you came. Good night," he said over his shoulder.
Long whiskers tickled the skin on his neck. Mrrrrr.
He closed his eyes, trying not to betray the effect it had on him.
XXX
He was running in a hazy, silvery green forest. The underbrush was dense and dark, but somehow, it didn't stop him from running.
He was chasing after an elusive silhouette. Silhouette of a woman. He only saw glimpses of flaxen hair flowing like a river behind her, and a glint of onyx eyes here and there when she glanced over her shoulder at him with a smile.
Mists started rolling in. His thrill warped into anxiety. He could no longer see her. He tried to call out. His throat constricted, not letting him make a single sound.
His heartbeat grew faster, faster. The trees faded into the mist. Instead, harsh grey slopes rose, locking the sky away from his eyes. Something hit his back. He fell to the ground, rolling painfully over the rocky terrain.
Whispers in an unknown language seeped in, the mountains themselves whispered maliciously, towering over him, pressing him down, suffocating him. The last sliver of sky disappeared, replaced by blood, dripping down.
Clack. Clack. Clack. Claws neared, ominous, dangerous. He wanted to get up, get up and run, but his body couldn't obey, the mountains pushed him to the ground and held him prisoner, laughing mockingly at his futile struggle.
A heavy, clawed foot stomped on his head. He wanted to scream, to fight, at least push it away. All in naught. His voice lost, his body trapped, he could only suffer the sharp edges of claws blacker than the darkest night cutting through his skin, setting it aflame with unimaginable pain.
With a jerk, the claws turned his head to the side. He saw Hrakni - fighting for dear life against a horde of men with hollowed out chests. They cut him apart, piece by piece, with their toothed weapons. Hrakni screamed, cried, he called out to Vilkas for help, but all he could do was watch, tears streaming down his cheeks.
When there was nothing left but a twitching bloody mass that used to be a human, the claws turned Vilkas' head.
He found himself staring into a monstrously warped face with empty holes of void for eyes and mouth. There were some feathers visible on the outline of a grotesquely thin body, two long, long arms with even longer fingers reaching to him and stretched out legs ending in horrifying claws, black and reflecting fires of destruction.
The face laughed at him, turning his head from side to side. The mountains and the blood in the background faded, his whole vision filling with that face. The empty mouth hole contorted into a blood-chilling shriek.
Claws cut open his belly.
XXX
Vilkas shot awake with a desperate gasp. He was cold, drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling with haggard breaths. He could feel tears rolling down the corners of his eyes.
His abdomen pulsed with pain.
The room was dark. Did he hear an echo of cackling?
Frantic, he pulled his shirt up, examining his stomach with shaking fingers.
There was no wound.
Something small and soft touched his skin. The darkness in the room paled into a dim, blue light reminiscent of an overly early morning.
He looked down.
Mori was reaching out, one small paw touching his scars. The light was coming from her fur, myriads of gently glowing blue sparks - just like with the spriggans. Her eyes, glistening in the otherworldly light, turned up to him, full of worry.
"I-I-I'm sorry," he stammered, shivering. "I didn't-didn't mean t-to wake you."
She mewed, gently bonking him with her head. Her tail swished from side to side. She then climbed to his lap, standing on hind legs and putting her front paws on his chest.
The black eyes looking intently at him were...gentle. Inviting. Sad.
Unable to hold himself together otherwise, Vilkas bent and scooped her up to his chest. He curled into himself, burying his face into the soft white fur.
Purring filled his ears.
It was comforting.
He started taking deeper breaths. His nose filled with the scent of fresh snow, pine needles, earthy bark and clear night air. The pain in his abdomen slowly dulled as his mind soothed and the shivering dissipated.
The purrs resonated through his ribcage, washing away the tension and horror from his dream.
His breathing calmed. His whole body relaxed, releasing the tension. "I'm sorry," he whispered again into her fur. "And thank you."
Mrrr.
They remained together for a while more. Then Vilkas realised what he was doing.
He straightened up, keenly aware that the cat's, no, Mori's buttocks were firmly planted in his hand, the whole of her body pressed against his and her ears tickled him on the jaw with their every move.
He pulled away, face red, and gently put her down.
She tilted her head, curling her tail around her paws. Mew. It almost seemed like she was raising an eyebrow at him. As if she was saying I allowed it, if I didn't want to, I wouldn't participate.
She blinked, slowly in a contentedly feline way. Then she hopped on the floor, tail held high, and ran over to the washbasin.
Mroour, she tapped it with her paw.
Right. His clothes were still cold and wet. Washing up and changing would be a good idea. It was just that...
"Can you...ah...not look?"
She didn't react for a heartbeat. Then her eyes widened and her ears moved back. She zoomed under the bed, leaving her tail sticking out.
Vilkas chuckled. Looks like I'm not the only one who gets their blood running hot.
He took a clean set of clothes from his chest, put the previous ones in the laundry basket, washed and dressed.
When he sat back on the bed, Mori stuck her head out from under. Mew?
"You're welcome to come up, if you so please."
She jumped up, curling into a ball next to the pillow. Her large eyes stared at him, pools of black in the flood of white fur.
"It's..." he felt the tension rising again as he recalled the dream, "it's just..I guess Hrakni's death and the hagraven left a bigger impact on me than I expected."
He ran his hand through his hair, sighed and looked at her. "I don't usually have nightmares. This was the first one since...since some time after I got back from...that job."
Her eyes grew sorrowful. She came closer, tapping his thigh with her paw.
"It's alright. I can deal with it."
She tilted her head. Then she dropped on the bed, turning on her back and revealing her belly.
"What-" Vilkas was confused, but then he noticed something. At first, he wasn't sure, because the fur obscured them, but then he moved it a bit to reveal scars. Many of them. Exactly the same as the ones he had, just...a lot more numerous.
"How...why...didn't anyone protect you?"
These look at least as old as mine. Weren't the Daughters supposed to be-
Then he remembered. Yvaine's hollow tone and forlorn eyes. The Daughters were the ones protecting, not the other way around.
"Oh."
She mewed. She turned on her belly, then started kneading the bed.
"I'm not sure I will sleep more," Vilkas' voice cracked a little, "but you are welcome to."
Pft. She tapped him, then again.
"If you insist," he sighed and laid down.
She put on a smug cat grin. She stretched along his side, shifted around a little to find that one comfortable spot, and then closed her eyes.
The light emanating from her fur dimmed. Over a while, it died out completely.
Vilkas stared into the darkness, unsettled. Maybe I should light a candle? No...it costs too much. I already use too many.
He turned to his side. The strangely forest-like scent of Mori's fur became stronger as he did.
It made his mind wander to completely different areas. He closed his eyes.
XXX
It is not good to repress your emotions and trauma, welp. That's not how you deal with things, Vilkas. Men ARE allowed to cry.