Chapter 6: Secrets

"Your time has come to an end... dog."

Krystal frowned.

Did he just call me a dog?

It was quite obvious that she was a fox, much more distinguished than a common canine. Quite frankly she was insulted that they could possibly confuse her like that. But in a move that surprised her, Fenris stepped forwards with a furious snarl, drawing one of his blades spitefully, as if he had been the one to be insulted.

"Have you not done enough you gutless cowards? I may be under orders to cease my bitter discourse against your abhorrent faction, but I will recommence my efforts if you force my hand. Leave now and you all will remain alive, disregard my warning... and your lives are considered forfeit."

He sounded absolutely furious, having reached a peak of lividity he had never before attained around her. The unrestrained fury saturating the human's speech frightened Krystal as she stood in stunned silence at such unusual rancor from her friend. The vixen had never seen Fenris so enraged. Soft golden eyes that were once filled with compassion, now blazed with incensed hate and his lips were tugged back into a feral snarl. She was uncertain, but it looked like his teeth were... shifting, altering... into fangs, giving the vixen a brief mental image of a savage, baying hound struggling fiercely against its leash.

The comparison was... unsettling.

"Fenris... what's going on?" Krystal turned to her companion meekly, feeling just as lost as she did when she first came here. From the way he was acting, there was some crucial information she lacked.

"Is being a monster not enough, beast? Now you consort with another abomination?" The elf demanded, his scornful gaze regarding the vixen with barely contained aversion.

Krystal's maw flopped open in incredulity. No one had ever spoken about her like that. What had she done to deserve their contempt?

"How dare you sully her with your craven words!" Fenris exclaimed in outrage, leather creaking as his gloved hand grasped the sword's hilt tight with murderous intent. "If not for the harbinger's words of restraint, your blood would decorate my blade for your impudence."

"Ah yes, that old dog. Rest assured, mongrel, his time comes as well. Once you have been dealt with he and the others of your bestial disease will not fall far behind." The elf chuckled and flicked his sword, taking a brash step forwards.

"D-don't s-say that about h-him!" Krystal stammered timidly, wanting to defend the name of her friend and Kodlak. So far they had treated her better than most and did not deserve such hateful words as the elf devised. She did not understand the meaning of the dispute or heated verbiage they were tossing around and why they seemed to despise Fenris, but she could not let that stand.

"Silence your tongue, animal!" The elf barked, raising his sword with ill intent in her direction. The pure abhorrence in his baleful gaze struck her numb with shock and she instinctively stumbled backwards.

Having never encountered such animosity before from a fellow sentient being, she folded under his harsh reprimand, whimpering and close to tears. Why were they so malicious? Just as her encounter with the antagonistic guard, she felt that same loss of optimism. Why were the people in this land so terrible?

Yet before she could dwell on her resurfaced misery, she felt a hand on her shoulder, turning to see the smiling face of Fenris, his fierce anger subsided and broken mask stashed away in his enchanted bag.

"Do not listen to the likes of them. An animal you are not. You're Krystal, the kindest and most sincere woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet. If any here deserves the title animal, it is they." As he spoke such warm words, she felt him urge her backwards with his guiding arm, placing the vixen behind him and the band of cutthroats. "Now please, allow me to take care of them. I fear we will not pass without conflict. I will handle this. This is not your fight... not yet."

Nodding uncertainly, she moved away from him, watching as the still battered man stepped forwards. Once more his reassuring words dragged her from the abyss of her own despair. And even now, after having previously injured himself to prevent harm from befalling her, he still showed that same protection. Fenris was indeed a good friend, one she was extraordinarily glad to have found in this inhospitable world. She could not hope to imagine where she might be without him.

"Now then..." Fenris stated banally, unsheathing his second sword and wielding both in his practiced hands. "Though Kodlak may have leashed me, I think he would allow me this instance to retaliate. It is clear you have no intention of letting us leave and even if that were not the case, your slanderous words against Krystal cannot be allowed to be uttered with impunity."

"You put too much stock in your own ability, dog." The elf rebutted confidently, gesturing to the mismatched band of soldier's behind him, three men and an orc, all grizzled and eager for battle. "It is five against one here, and our weapons put you at a distinct disadvantage. Once you are dealt with, we will take your friend with us. Her unique pelt should catch a fine price."

Hearing what they planned for her, Krystal whined and took a step in reverse, ears splayed back in fright and tail rigid in powerful disbelief. Such barbaric actions were completely unheard of on Cerinia. These... these monsters... they intended to skin her!

However their words fell on uncaring ears, Fenris already knowing how this fight would end. Instead the warrior chuckled, brandishing his weapons high.

"Better threats have been spoken by worthier foes before you, and their corpses kissed the soil all the same. If you have the courage to own up to your boasts then I bid you, take your chance."

As soon as the words left his mouth the elf charged him with a cry of anger, weapon poised to strike...

Only for his headless corpse to flop lifelessly to the ground, a geyser of crimson blood shooting from the ragged stump of his torn neck. Calmly, Fenris stepped over the cooling corpse, the sword in his left arm dripping with gore, droplets of ruby red fluid creating inane patterns in the fresh snow fall.

"Any other takers?" The companion inquired with mild disinterest.

Of course his challenge could not be ignored and the lone orc roared a battle cry as he charged forwards, swinging his axe, intent to cleave Fenris' head from his shoulders as he had done to the elf not moments ago.

As the cleaver swung down, Fenris adeptly lifted his blade, the edge of the orc's weapon sparking as it skidded across the obsidian metal, the man stepping to the side in avoidance. Before the orc had even finished his move, Fenris brought his second sword around and plunged it into the green skinned elvinkin's spine, severing it and rendering him immobile. Raising a boot, Fenris smashed it down and forced the now collapsing orc to the ground, crushing his windpipe without a backwards glance, already moving to engage the next target.

Seeing two of their own mercilessly butchered by their foe, the three men did not look as confident as they had moments ago.

"If you so desire, you may run. Though that will not stop me..." Fenris warned as he raised the tip of a bloodied sword and tapped the longbow slung to his back. The opportunity to flee had been taken away the moment they decided to insult his friend and threaten her with such a barbarous practice. They would die. Whether it is as men or animals was up to them.

Seeing that escape was not possible, the three decided to attack all at once, hoping that they might gain the upper hand.

And in doing so, ensured that Fenris was able to kill them that much faster.

He exploded into a bladed whirlwind to match each of his enemy's strikes, easily deterring the trio of experienced swordsman with but only a pair of blades. Long ago he had shrugged off the use of a shield, relying on skill alone to turn an enemy's weapon. For him this battle was just another quick affair with a predictable outcome. A lifetime of freelance mercenary work in the harsh and unforgiving tundra of Skyrim combating mages, monsters, deadra, and the occasional dragon had molded him into a man whose legendary deeds were spoken of in hushed whispers all across Skyrim and other nations spanning Tamriel. It would take a great deal more than a handful of highwaymen with swords to undo him now.

He would bide his time till one made a mistake. Then he would make his move.

It soon became apparent to Krystal and the three men now reduced to frantically fending him off that they, even attacking together, were hopelessly outmatched. The once determined expressions on their faces wilted into despair as they realized that they had never stood a chance, not from the start. The movements of Fenris' arms were too swift and fluid to track as he rained a flurry of dexterous blows upon them, forcing the three men backwards with an assault they could not hope to match.

The vixen immediately became conscious of the fact that he had taken it easy on her in their previous sparring match. That was a hard truth to swallow, like a bitter healing draught. She had put her all into that fight, and to suddenly understand that her best had not been good enough, not even close... it was both humbling and an eye opener. She wanted to become better, needed to. Krystal wished to prove herself to Fenris, that he might consider her to be his equal.

The vixen pushed away her thoughts as she watched the end of the massacre, for it could be called nothing else.

It began when one of the unfortunate men overextended himself, his blow having tipped his balance and receiving just punishment not a moment later. His existence on Tamriel ended with a sword's blade rammed into his gut with enough force to lift him off his feet, Fenris throwing back the man who had effectively been turned into deadweight, with apparently superhuman strength.

Yet even as he died, Fenris' second blade made short work of another, the sword burying itself in the center of a man's chest. Both dropped dead to the ground, leaving one last foe standing. Seeing that he had no hope against this monster, he turned to run, having only traveled a few feet before he was pounced on.

Fenris drove his knees into the man's back, forcefully wrapping his gloves around the back of his victim's neck... and began to squeeze. The man writhed wildly under the incensed warrior as he was strangled to death, Fenris gazing down at the dying man impassively, regarding him as one did a bug under their boot as the man below him gagged, cries muffled by the soft snowfall.

Krystal watched in astonished shock and disbelief as her friend throttled a helpless man with his bare hands, the vixen stunned by his sudden brutality. This was a part of Fenris she had yet to see before now, a much darker side. She had not thought him capable of such ruthlessness, having been enamored by his pleasant and kindly mannerisms. She supposed they deserved what happened to them for what they no doubt would have done if they succeeded. They would have killed her and Fenris with little to no thought about it. And what they would have done to her had Fenris lost... Even so, she could not help but feel his actions might've been taking it too far, nor did she like that vacant look in his eyes, as if killing this man meant nothing to him, ending another life was as substantial as a summer breeze, and all the more flippant in its passing.

With the draugr she had been able to find some relief knowing they were not truly alive, not anymore, and the troll had been a monster, but these were men, just as alive as she was. It was one thing to see the dead miners, and another to witness the act first hand. At that moment she could not see the Fenris that she had traveled with, but this strange heartless apparition of death.

Eventually the man below him ceased his struggling and Fenris rose to his feet, turning to Krystal and stepping over the corpse. The emptiness in his eyes was gone, replaced by what appeared to be remorse if she had gauged the softened look in his eyes correctly, though she was uncertain that could be true. She was no longer convinced that she could read his eyes as well as she used to.

He halted his approach a few feet away from her and he looked to be trying to say something, uncertainty marring his brow. After a few moments of indecisive lip twitching, he spoke.

"Come...we should let the town know that the mine is safe." Fenris' suggestion was so low she had to strain her ears to make it out.

This surprised her somewhat.

Shouldn't he explain who these men were and why they had attacked them? Shouldn't they do something about the bodies? And didn't she deserve to know what was going on?

However, rather than demanding the answers from him, she nodded timidly and followed him down the path to the town in silence. She sensed that there was something more to this, and though her life had been on the line as well, she could not find the nerve to ask. The vixen had seen that look in his eyes, the same one from last night. That tired hollow gaze, a gaze that seemed to plead her not to delve any deeper.

And despite her concerns, she did as it asked.

They made their way down the path and arrived at the town, and after speaking with the innkeep and the mine's foreman, Fenris collected the gold for the job and they left shortly after, declining the grateful orc innkeeper's offer of free room and board for the night. Neither wished to stay in the town any longer.

She did at least ask him why they were leaving so soon and he had told her it was not safe to linger. It seemed that those men might not be the last, and the sooner they returned to the safety of Whiterun and its walls the better.

Unlike when they had first departed the city, the return was not as companionable. They traveled all the way back to the cave without a single word exchanged between them. Krystal had spent that time studying her friend closely. She was not quite sure what to make of him anymore. His open and warm personality had vanished, replaced by an unwanted wall of silence. She could not help but wonder if all that had been some façade to draw her close. Was this this person he truly was? It certainly had been how she perceived him to be on their first meeting.

Thankfully, the blizzard they had previously encountered had died away in their absence and they were able to rest closer to the mouth of the cave and light a campfire to stave of the cold, sharing an unspoken agreement to rest here before continuing back to the city.

Once Fenris lit the flames, they took their respective places on opposite sides of the fire, the vixen observing him through the winding trail of grey smoke as it hugged the ceiling and made its way out of the cavern, the spiced sent of burning evergreens filling her snout. The odor reminded her of home, her mother and father often keeping a fireplace burning in their room, both for the cold on winter nights and the pleasant crackling it emitted.

The vixen sighed and wrapped herself up tighter in her cloak. Never again would she experience that or see her family, lost forever by cruel chance. She listened to the pop and crackle of the logs Fenris had collected as the water and sap cooked off in the intense heat, the ambient noise bringing her some sense of comfort. At least she was not alone, though at the moment it certainly felt as if she was.

Fenris seemed to be preoccupied himself, his eyes intently tracking the flickering flames, his lips pursed into the ever-present frown he had carried with him since they left the village all those hours ago. Occasionally, as time passed, he would stir the glowing coals with a fire blackened stick, whatever thoughts he mused on, closely guarded.

The vixen had been tempted to peer into them, yet even his surface emotions were firmly secured from her inspection. This could only be possible if he was aware of her abilities or was so focused on his thoughts that he had thrown up an unconscious barricade. Seeing as he had not shown otherwise, she could only assume it was the latter.

Krystal could only endure this silence for so long, they had not spoken to each other in hours. At this point any sort of conversation would be appreciated. And seeing as he did would not likely be the first to broker one, she decided to take matters into her own paws.

"Hey... Fenris." She murmured softly, returning his amber gaze as the man questioningly looked up from the fire towards her and waited for the vixen to continue. "Who were those men?"

The man nodded with slow inevitability upon hearing her question, having known she would ask eventually. With a quiet sigh, he stirred the embers of the fire before gently laying the stick upon the stone to his side and leaned forwards, resting his hands on his knees as he prepared to speak.

"They are a group that call themselves, The Silver Hand." Fenris scowled upon stating that, their very name seemingly enough to alight some small measure of anger from him. "And they have been enemies of The Companions for as long as the two factions have been aware of either's existence."

"Why do they hate you so much?" It had been painfully obvious to her that they all but despised The Companions, and by default, anyone associated with them, with a particular grudge against anyone with fur it appeared.

Fenris sighed, his gaze falling back to the fire. "The answer to that question is... complicated." His words were soon filled with a great degree of reluctance and it became apparent that he was far from comfortable with this topic. "There is a... gift, offered to those of sufficient bravery and ability who are allowed entrance into The Companion's inner circle. It is this that so sours the thoughts of The Silver Hand to our guild"

Krystal scrunched her snout in visible confusion. "What is this gift?"

"Well... it is... that is to say..." His fingers clawed through his hair as he searched for the words that would best explain it to her, but found that there simply were none. How did one explain lycanthropy to a person wholly unware of its existence? He himself did not fully understand what manner of curse he was under, whether it was an affliction or a blessing was something he had not quite yet decided.

But he had lived his whole life with the wolf blood, a dormant part of his heritage he had unwittingly received from his departed father, or rather his father's father. It was only when he joined The Companions that he had taken to his latent abilities and was only now just coming to master his control over the wolven lineage.

As he wondered how to possibly explain that he could change forms at will in to that of a bipedal wolf man, he realized that he was far from the silver tongued deadra that would be needed to passably apprise her of his unique situation. He hardly understood it himself after all. It had only been a few months since he discovered this part of himself.

"It is a secret, known only to those who have earned their place in the inner circle. I don't have the authority to reveal it. But perhaps if you ask Kodlak, he might tell you. After all, the old man seems to have taken a shine to you." Fenris noted with a small smile. The old wolf did indeed appear to be unusually fond of the vixen, treating her with a near fatherly overtone that was somewhat more subdued when dealing with the other members of The Companions.

Krystal's muzzle compressed into a frown, the woman obviously unhappy with being kept in the dark, but thankfully she did not press the topic further and acquiesced to his response with a stout nod.

At that the human eased a soft sign of relief of pent up stress he had been holding in since they had entered that nest of druagrs. He would have to inform Kodlak on what they had found there. Draugr Deathlords were rare in the crypts scattered across the expanse of Skyrim, and it was near unheard of to find more than one in an entire tomb complex.

They would have to make record of this in The Companion's archives.

But such thoughts were for later when they returned to Whiterun. For now, they should revel in their success. They had saved a small mining town from an undead menace, and dealt once more with the irritating but persistent efforts of The Silver Hand. Both were cause for celebration, something that might perhaps uplift the mood of his dour companion.

Fenris reached into one of his satchels, rummaging around inside the enchanted carrier until he extracted a bottle of Black-Briar Mead. Krystal watched him closely as he also removed two wooden traveling goblets from within and offered one to her. The vixen accepted his outstretched gift with a look of curious interest.

"You did well today, pup." He opened the dialogue in simple explanation as he wrapped a gloved hand around the cork stuffing the bottle and worked it off with a loud pop. "This is Black-Briar Reserve 4E 150, a rare treat liberated from the Black-Briar family." He did not go so far as to say he had pilfered it from their very home, deciding that she did not quite need to know that to enjoy the taste, though it would be all the sweeter for himself. The Briar's were indeed good mead brewers, but that did not mean they were good folk. It had been no tragedy that they one day found their house ransacked.

However, such musing was for another time and place, more fit for the decrepit and moldy corridors of The Ratway and a company somewhat less savory. He doubted the vixen would be as entertained with his exposition as Delvin or Vex.

Leaning over the fire, the man filled her cup before returning to his previous posture for his own, watching with an unnoticed, slight smile as the female fox stared dubiously at the deep amber concoction. He had observed her lack of knowledge in regards to alcoholic beverages during her first day within the cavernous halls of Jorrvasker... much to his amusement.

Nevertheless she slowly withdrew her misgivings and brought the wood chalice to her lips, taking a smooth, measured draft of the beverage. And in an instant her eyes widened, the vixen's tongue running across her muzzle as she released a grin and giggled.

"Wow... this is rather tasty. It's... smooth, is that how you say it?" She asked, looking to him with that infectious, innocent smile she was so easily capable of creating, the very one that had at first drew him forth from the walls of isolationism he had erected around himself. Among his fellow companions before her arrival Fenris was not known for possessing an amiable disposition. In his life he learned that friends were hard to come by and even harder to trust. Working alone was safer, and what's more, financially prudent. It started off as a concept put quickly formed into a habit, one that became easier and easier as days passed and he grew more accustomed to being alone.

And yet still... when he had first seen her smile, for whatever reason at the time, it had lured him out of his solitude with its open affability. When he looked to her he did not see a fox, nor a woman, he did not care about her fur or gender he saw a person worth talking to, worth risking his privacy, someone that might just be different than those who had betrayed him. That was perhaps more to see in an expression than a sane mind might usually discover, yet his eyes were sharper than most and his instincts had yet to betray him.

Krystal was someone he could learn to trust, to befriend, and as he considered at the time, perhaps more.

Fenris fought the fluttering warmth he felt in his heart at that wonderful image before his eyes, crushing it within the callous grasp of his iron discipline. It was ignoble to consider her in such a light. He would not entertain such notions, recalling with grimness the exact nature and potency of the affliction he bore. It would be in both of their best interests if they did not grow too attached to one another.

Yet, all the same he returned her smile, a laugh escaping him regardless of his concerns. "Yes indeed, Briar mead is known for its levelness and fruity taste, especially of the bottles from the reserve. I had a feeling it would be to your liking."

The woman nodded vigorously as she finished her immediate cup with a particularly lengthy draw. "I do, very much so." She agreed with a long winded sigh and a smack of her lips as she sat a little more comfortably, her cloak pulling away from its entrapment of her figure and spilling out towards the ground with the pop of an unclasped brooch.

Fenris averted his gaze upon her, his golden irises having been unconsciously learning every curve on her slim physique with wolfish interest. Though she did not outwardly resemble the females of men and mer, she possessed an inherent, animalistic beauty that was perhaps far more appealing to his slightly lupine eyes. She was slender, and in his biased opinion, perfectly endowed.

She was however, also the first woman to get close to him, which might make his thoughts fairly predisposed. With a silent mutter of self-reproach, Fenris fully tore his stare from her body, disgusted that he could not even control such baser instincts. Kodlak was indeed right. He still had much to learn in governing his curse. However he was grateful that, unlike his fellows, he retained full and dominant control of his... other form.

It was rare for a lycan to possess such powerful dominance over their shapeshifting. However, as his father had been, from what Kodlak told him after his first changing, a pure breed, a direct descendant of Hircine's original hunting pack, he had inherited an extremely rare iteration of lycanthropy.

This had saved his life on a number of occasions, where even a werewolf's prodigious strength and reflexes would not guarantee a victory unless supported by a rational mind. After all, most did not anticipate a werewolf flanking around a barricade or evading a well-hidden trap. And he would always take some manner of savage pleasure in watching the paled faces of silver hand hunters as they came face to face with a lycanthrope bearing down upon them with an immense greatsword, or watching as one of their companions was impaled upon an arrow the size of a javelin.

Fenris mused on the precarious nature of his condition as he spent the later part of the day inside the cave. Whiterun, while not too distant, was far enough away where it would not be a waste of time to stop for rest. And perhaps he possessed an ulterior motivation for his decision. Though he did frequent Jorrvasker, he did not care for spending any prodigious length of time in any of the many cities doting Skyrim's harsh winter landscape.

Most citizens tended to be intolerant of his kind, and he was certain that if not for Jarl Balgruuf, the halls of Jorrvasker would have been torn down by vigiliants and the Silver Hand. As is, the Jarl and his line have always been trusted allies of The Companions, Balgruuf being perhaps the only one outside of the hall to be aware of the nature of their order, and guarded such a secret zealously.

If Fenris had not encountered Krystal when he did, he would have left the city for a few weeks on one of his frequent pilgrimages. On occasion the wildness in his blood would call out to him, as it had been more powerfully then usual as of late, and he longed to find a place far enough away from the trappings of civilization where he could find the privacy to roam in his lupine form.

Yet he supposed that as long as he was tasked with watching over her, he would have to abstain, reducing his opportunities to lesser extents in the interim. Even in this moment he could feel his skin itch, like a rash that refused any and all ointments, and he knew there was only one cure for his affliction.

Nevertheless, as he looked to his foxlike companion as she turned her cloak into a makeshift bed, he recognized that he would not be finding solace in his feral form for some time to come. The beast disguised as a man, watched the vixen from across the fire, his golden gaze lingering upon the contented aspect of her muzzle and captivating slenderness of her figure... and he sighed, stoking the dying embers of their campfire with a weary melancholy.

He knew better than to dream or hope for a future that would never await him. Skyrim was not a land where one could find succor in their irrational delusions. Any optimism he might have fielded would be childish and misplaced. Men of his ilk did not receive or conspire to receive what misguided dupes called happy endings. They did not experience such infantile fallacies reserved for the hapless fool. He would be lucky to live long enough to burn in a pyre as peasants cried out for the monsters death.

The naïve feared what they did not understand, and fear so precariously and oh so easily malformed into hate. Why else would a mother spit in his face after he had saved her child from a rabid saber cat, defaming him as a craven beast even after he had reverted to his human form and returned her young to her? Why else did the Silver Hand desire to slay him and all his kin with their vile machinations, despite that they knew next to nothing of those they reviled with such fervent ferocity?

It was at times like those that he himself detested his own existence. After all, it was easy to hate oneself when it seemed as if the entire world did as well, made one start to think that perhaps the world was right, the vast majority could not possibly be wrong... could they? His view had not changed until he set out with Farkas on a hunt for giants and was shaken from such dark thoughts. It was right after they had brought down the last of the pack, Farkas in his wolven form had leapt upon the titan's back while he himself darted in to snatch its ankle in his jaws, bringing down the colossal beast in a spray of blood and cries of pain.

The mostly silent Companion had commended him on his form, but he had rejected his praise with spite, recalling only in that moment the utterly disgusted mien of the peasant women and her horrified child.

He thought back on that moment somewhat sheepishly, still remembering the strong handed clout he had received to his skull, though it did much to knock some sense into him he realized with a low chuckle. True, Farkas did not speak often, but when he did it was wise to listen.

Sighing, Fenris reached into his satchel and extracted a small blade from within its capacious confines, eyeing the silvery reflective sheen with a silent intensity, Farkas' voice as low and growling as it had been in memory.

If you think you are the monster those fools consider you to be, then take this and be done with your whining.

Though crude and mayhap not entirely well thought out, Fenris found himself appreciative of the gesture. Although he did not end his life that day, he did decide to hold on to the silver dagger, even if he could not truly answer why. And often when he began to doubt, he found an odd reassurance in grasping the weapon, as if in some strange morbid way he still at least contained a mastery of his own fate.

Returning the weapon within his bag, Fenris allowed his mind to wander away from such morose contemplation as he too set his cloak down upon the ground beside the fire. And as he made himself comfortable on the fur lined mantle, he looked across the fire to the now slumbering form of his female fox companion, an inexplicable sense of pride making its presence known within him. For a newblood she conducted herself well given the unexpected difficulty of this quest. At the current rate of her growing experience she would not have need of him in only a few weeks when she would become a full-fledged member of The Companions.

That was... good, he supposed.

Rolling to face the wall of the cavern, Fenris ignored a peculiar sense of foreboding at that thought, and tried to find sleep before the morning sun would rise.

It was many hours later before he at last found the sleep he desired.

That night the halls of Jorrvasker were flooded with warm yellow light that made the shadows flicker and dance in the corners of the longhouse. Voices were raised in raucous celebration and it was known that many would be stumbling to their beds before long.

Krystal sat to the side, away from the loudest and more boisterous members of these strange folk as she sipped carefully on a mug of mead. The vixen watched with mild interest and amusement both as Vilkas caroused with his brother atop a table, surrounded by a ring of their fellows that cheered them on in their less than perfect verbal tirade. If there was one thing she could say that she learned from the companions, it was that they certainly were fond of merriment and revelry. Even Kodlak seemed to be enjoying the charged atmosphere, older than the others but certainly not feeble, he sat at the table and politely praised the brothers with a raised goblet.

The sight of such merrymaking made the vixen giggle, and this time she knew it was not of intoxication, she had more than learned her lesson the first time. Instead she savored her drink and made sure to keep a civil distance from the rowdiest of her new friends, disinclined with the notion of being suddenly swept up in the momentum of their merriment. Instead she turned her eyes towards the hearth in a more contemplative mood as she studied the flames and looked back to the events prior.

She and Fenris had returned to Whiterun sometime before noon. They soon returned to Jorrvasker and Kodlak where they handed off the piece of Wuuthrad. She remembered the look of pride in the old nord's eyes as he congratulated her on completing the quest, despite the unexpected difficulties they faced. And she could still feel the warm glow in her heart at his approval. The vixen reflected upon her life here in Skyrim, how it started and how it was now, and was somewhat confused.

She missed her old life, by the spirits she did, yet she had a sense of purpose here that she never had back home on Cerinia, an understanding that the path she had taken gave her a feeling of fulfillment that life as a guardian might never give her.

And it was here that she had made her first true friend, a male friend at that.

Krystal sighed as she looked to the far end of the hall, past the drunken carousing to a chair that sat conspicuously empty, the sight dampening her pleasant mood. Not long after he had been part to the ceremony, Fenris disappeared into the night, before she could thank him for all he did and continued to do for her. She had been so eager to share in her accomplishments with him, the one person she actually truly wanted to, only to watch as he walked away into the silence of the night, leaving without so much as a word.

That had stung more than she thought it would. She had thought that what they had with one another was worth more than that.

But... she sighed once more, supposing she had simply been mistaken.

So much for that I guess. She mused with a sad smile. Maybe she was wrong, maybe they were not really friends. Perhaps he had considered her as just a novice, someone he had to look after only as long as he needed.

Even as she sat alone, embittered by such thoughts, she could not shake the voice in her head that told her she was just taking all of this too much to heart. Was she being too possessive? He was after all the first person she could truly call friend that was not of her family, and the only one she had in this realm. Mayhaps she just needed to think from an objective point of view.

After all if there was one thing she learned about Fenris, he was a remarkably private individual at times. And she knew he had more than a few secrets.

"Wondering after your friend are you?"

Krystal turned away from the fire at hearing the unexpected question posed by Kodlak, who must have slipped away from the festivities while she was distracted. The vixen nodded hesitantly and watched as the leader of the companions smirked, a low chuckle easing out of his lips like a tired sigh.

"Ah yes, Fenris has always been a quite one, as I'm sure you've been told by the others." He continued upon seeing her nod once more. "I hope you do not feel hurt at his leave-taking. That one is a troubled soul. There is much he has done and seen that keeps his mind from rest, and he does not make for an easy friend nor is he one himself."

Kodlak hummed deep in his throat, contemplative as he leaned back into his seat. "There is something that lingers about those within the higher ranks of the companions, both a gift and a curse by preference of the afflicted."

"Yes, Fenris told me a little of that." Krystal admitted. "He phrased it much the same, though I have not heard it spoken as a curse."

"To some yes, it can be a curse. However to most, Fenris included, it is a gift that bears its own burdens. Those who possess it take to it differently. Yet I have never seen with such affinity for the gift as he has."

"Please Kodlak, tell me, what is this gift?" Perhaps if she knew, she could help him. If he was bothered, it was her duty as his friend to help him. Krystal watched the old nord as his gaze on her strengthened, studying the young vixen with steely blue intent.

"I would if I had the power to, for I see in your eyes a depth of kindness not often found in the harsh lands of Skyrim. For this place breeds people equally as severe. I know that you wish to help him. But it is not my right to give such secrets. There is a reason those of the inner circle are the only few allowed to bear the weight of the truth. And even though I feel as if you could be trusted as well, I cannot go against tradition that has kept our history alive for many long years."

Krystal frowned, feeling discouraged.

Seeing this Kodlak smiled softly. "But I shall promise you this, Krystal. Work hard, earn a place amongst us, and I will add your name to our inner circle with pride."

The vixen looked back to Whitemane, her muzzle contorting with the grit of determination. "I will."

"I have no doubt that you will youngblood." He chuckled warmly as he stood tall. "Now leave such musing for another night. This is after a celebration on your achievements. So please, I implore you, make merry. It is not often one is given the privilege to become one of us."

With those parting words, the vixen watched as Kodlak vanished down the steps to the living quarters. And as much as she might have enjoyed joining in on the merriments, she would remain seated, wondering at what Fenris was doing at the moment, and finding that she missed the presence of the only one she would truly call her companion.

And as the vixen sat alone, a monster hunted in the dark.

Bestial pleasure coursed through his veins as his jaws closed around the deer's throat, the crack of bone sending shivers of ecstasy down the werewolf's spine and the splash of hot coppery fluid on his tongue only wetted his voracious appetite. No matter how much he consumed, the avaricious hunger never faded.

Unwilling to let his prey escape, Fenris dug his claws into the buck's back as he savaged the animal's windpipe and brought the large cervine down in a tangle of flailing limbs. The animal fought with admirable persistence, unwilling to fall without a struggle, but its resistance was put to an end as fangs sank deeper and the lupine creature twisted the meat caught in his maw, the unfortunate deer flopping limp in his grasp.

A furry ear flicked at the noise and the great beast snapped its muzzle closed to the pleasing sound of tearing flesh and broken bone. Taking scarcely enough time to breath as he ripped chunks from his prey, Fenris devoured the buck in minutes, taking deep ragged breaths in-between mouthfuls of raw and bleeding hunks of torn muscle and snapped sinew.

The werewolf was not particular with his meal nor was he in the current frame of mind to compose himself. Blood ran freely down a throat bulging and overstuffed with raw venison and continued its journey past a terrifyingly muscled chest in a crimson tide well hidden by the ebony pitch of fur as the wolfish monster savaged the fresh corpse. The night was alive with the nauseating song of glutinous consumption and rending flesh.

Fenris ate his fill, or rather till there was naught left but bloodied bones and broken antlers, yet still the hunger persisted, as haunting as it was endless. Lapping up the residual blood on a split metatarsal with a broad lupine tongue, the werewolf rose from its powerful haunches and sniffed the air, his sensitive snout easily able to pierce the thick stench of blood to track down his next victim.

Not an hour passed before he hunted and brought down his next target, a doe this time. And as his luck would have it, she had a fawn in tow. The mother did not put up much of a fight, and as he had broken the fawn's spine, he was not overly concerned with it escaping as he devoured its parent.

His higher thought was troubled by such callousness, yet he deferred to his more animal cognition when he went out in search of prey. After all, the wilds were no place for sympathy. Sucking on a length of spine that still tasted of its previous host, the lupine hybrid looked to the fawn with a gleam of curiosity as it flopped about in a mewling fit, its legs unresponsive. After two adult deer, his hunger had faded. It still plagued him, yet with enough force of will he could stave off his desire to feed.

He could eat it, but it would not provide much in the way of sustenance for a beast that stood little shorter than a juvenile giant. His human reasoning wandered away from the present, the broken form of the young deer discarded for the moment.

Fenris the man felt guilt at leaving Krystal without at least offering some kind of explanation, even if it would have been a lie. Fenris the wolf felt some remorse, but its hunger had been at the time more important. It had waited too long for a real hunt, and found that the joining ceremony would be perfect time to quell some of the deprivation it had suffered since she had become a part of their dynamic.

Yet as the werewolf looked down upon the soon to be dead fawn, it found a way to perhaps make up for its disappearance. This vixen was important to the man, so she was important to it as well. She was part of the pack, and it was the alpha's responsibility to care for its pack.

With that thought in mind the wolf-like creature stepped forwards, claws extended as it pounced upon the small form of the fawn.

It was quite now, the torches in the sconces had been reduced from a bright light to a dull glow and the once lively activity ringing through Jorrvaskr's hall was nothing more than faded memory hours old. Those present had returned to their beds, most in a drunken stupor.

All that is, but one.

Krystal remained the sole occupant of the grand hall, the vixen resting at a table in the far back corner, one or two empty mead goblets being her only acquaintances. A slight buzzing sensation lingered in her thoughts, though she was still entirely in control of her faculties.

And while it would be strange that she sat alone in the dim darkness, she was not without a reason. Tired as she was, she would not be comfortable sleeping until she had at least spoken to her errant friend, sitting in wait with the hope that he would return, fearing that he might have just went to his home, making her efforts pointless.

With this uncertainty hanging low upon her thoughts she watched as finally, the back door to the longhouse slipped open on silent hinges, admitting a shadowy form that even from this distance and lighting she would easily recognize.

The vixen observed the figure as he stole in like a thief, and judging from the stories he had entertained her with, he actually was. Yet it was not his intent this day to prey upon silver cutlery.

Krystal felt a strange sensation course through her body as those fascinating golden orbs of his searched the room, stopping only when he noticed her sitting in the corner. His poise changed, shoulders slumping slightly and a low cast to his head as he moved towards her, weaving through the scattered chairs and cast away plates littering the floor boards like refuse cast upon the beach after a storm.

Silently, Fenris slipped into a chair across from her, picking up one of the two empty goblets to fiddle with tentative fingers.

As she looked upon him she felt that she should be mad. After all he had left without informing her or offering an explanation. Yet, underneath that golden gaze she found her anger evaporating. The vixen was simply glad that he had returned.

"So... where were you?" She inquired, studying him expectantly. At the least he could give her an answer.

"I took a walk outside the city." He answered, his voice soft and low, as if humbled by the silence encircling them.

Krystal's smile wavered, but remained. His answer was not entirely satisfactory as the vixen had a feeling he had done a little more than take a stroll in the wilds. However she recalled her conversation with Kodlak, and decided to give him leniency with his answer.

"You missed the party." She gestured towards the hall that looked more like a battlefield than a dining room, a trace of amusement curling the edge of her muzzle.

"Yes, I noticed." The man replied with an amused chuckle, though his laughter faded, as did the benign expression he bore. "About the ceremony..." He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his mussed hair, like a dog attacking an itch. 'I'm sorry I was not there for the rest of it. What you've done is nothing less than outstanding, and I should have been here for you." He reached out to place a hand on her paw, a sincere look of remorse souring his otherwise handsome features.

Krystal felt her smile widen until it made the muscles in her face ache. She didn't care so much for the apology as that he well and truly meant what he said. The vixen did her best to ignore the flutter in her breast. "It's alright. You're here now."

"No. It is not alright, but I promise I'll make it up to you. That is..." He managed to bring his grin back, "if you're not tired of accompanying an idiot like me?"

She giggled, feigning a look of deep concentration as she rested a padded finger upon the end of her muzzle. "Am I?" She hummed and made to consider it for several moments before shaking her head with a soft laugh. ""No, not yet I think."

Fenris smiled at that, an air of genuine relief dropping the tense pull on his shoulders that she only now just noticed. It reminded her that just like he was to her, that she was his only close associate. The vixen cringed internally as she realized that she might have made him worry about their friendship just as much as she had herself.

"And I don't think I ever will." She added with a warmer smile, leaning across the table to peck him softly on the cheek. Upon brushing her lips against his skin, she felt a spike of inexplicable energy bolt through her system, jump starting her heart into a wild crescendo.

Not wanting him to see the furious blush that suddenly erupted on her snout, the vixen leapt from her seat, her tail beckoning him to follow after her. "Now that you're back, let's head back home and get some rest. I for one am tired after today." She could hear the tremble in her voice, hoping that she was the only one to notice as they departed Jorrvasker.

"Alright, but don't think I forgot about making it up to you." Fenris patted down the satchel he slung across his shoulder.

"How does venison sound?"

AN: Been a long time since I did anything for this story, and even now I haven't really. I've been holding on to this for months, and I decided that I might as well post it now to help make up for my long period of inactivity. I'm not sure if anyone is even still interested in this story, but if you are, and have been waiting patiently for an update, I hope this commiseration will soothe your dissatisfaction.

Also for the first time EVER, I have put a poll up on my profile. Since I have so many stories going on at the moment I thought I'd ask for your input on what you are most interested in those I have selected. I have put a maximum of two choices per voter, so pick and choose wisely. As I stated in the poll, this is more for reference than anything else, and probably won't change my upload schedule, at least in the immediate future.

Last thing, which I can not state seriously enough, I am not currently, nor probably ever will, accept story requests. I have enough on my plate with my own stuff to work on to focus elsewhere. This is Fanfiction, if you want a story so badly, you can always try and make it yourself. So please... stop asking. This is just for those persistent few who keep egging me on. So if anyone else has asked only once, don't take this as a targeted effort.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this particular chapter, it was an interesting one to write for sure.

Drake

Keep the faith!