Chapter 1: RETURNING HOME

Clouds were dark and heavy, ice-cold wind blew mercilessly making the snowflakes dance wildly before they fall onto the frozen floor. Lights illuminating the College of Winterhold were hardly visible through the snow-storm.

"Thank you for your services. Here is your payment," the Altmer threw dark-haired Nord woman a punch full with Septims.

"Thank you, sir," she took it and stored it in her pocket, turning away from the caravan she just escorted from the border dividing Cyrodiil and Skyrim all the way north to Winterhold, a seat of prominent Mage College.

To Ingean's pleasure, the escort job she did was peaty uneventful. There was this Bosmer thief, who joined them somewhere near Riverwood, that thought of making short work of their wealth, but Inghean was up to her and caught her in the act. The usual punishment for thievery was cutting fingers, but Inghean couldn't bring up herself to do it.

Elsynia, as the elf presented herself, didn't strike Inghean as a regular thief. She had noticed slight scars on girl's neck, hinting on more of them under the shabby fur-armour she wore. Her eyes were telling her stories without a word escaping the elf's lips. For Inghean it seemed that she is a victim running from whatever terrible past she had, trying to survive in any way she could. A part of hers had to admire the girl, the courage she held inside that made her run for freedom, and she decided to give her some coin and let her go in contrary to cutting off those sticky fingers.

Other than that, there was a bandit attack a distance away from Whiterun, but nothing that she and the other three man guarding the caravan couldn't fend off. A pack of starved wolfs wanted to have them for a meal, then a bear protecting its cub and one lonely ice wrath was all that they encounter after that.

However, now her job was done. Ancano and his daughter Arquen were safely behind the walls of the college. Inghean felt relief for if she had to stand one more hour listening to Ancano preaching Thalmor ways and his daughter complaining about the cold and barbarism of Skyrim, she would probably behead them with her Great Sword.

Inghean went to the Inn, rented a room for a night and inquired if anybody had use of a freelance-warrior. There was none, so she went and crashed onto the bed covered with furs.

She hoped somebody would hire her service in order to pros-pone what she was about to do -she run out of luck-, returning to Whiterun after ten years of absence, it was something she dreaded.

Kodlak Whitemane found Inghean deep in the forest when she was five or six, perhaps seven, years old. Her face was dirty, her clothes all but ruined, her body full of scratches and various shades of blue, purple, green and black covered in dried blood.

He signalled Skjor to move silently to opposite side of the girl, as he carefully approached the child. As he predicted, the child got up swiftly, scowling with pain, in order to run away from him, but was stopped by Skjor, who grabbed her with his strong hands. The girl kicked and bite and scream to no avail while Skjor was cursing under his breath.

Kodlak however, kept smiling kindly at her, trying to catch her eyes with his and calm the terrified child. He -shushed- her softly and touch her chin gently with his fingers, turning her face towards him, catching her gaze.

He didn't speak; he just gazed into girl's eyes, and she stared back, mesmerized; she slowly stopped struggling until she remained limp in Skjor's grip.

They brought the child with them to Whiterun, straight to Jorrvaskr and laid her in Kodlak's bed for the time being, supervised by the elderly men and Tilma the Haggard, the caretaker at Jorrvaskr, home of the fabled Companions.

Kodlak sent some of his men out to search for child's parents, but they returned empty-handed. There was no trace of anybody miles around the place they found the girl, nor anything useful that would tell them anything about her.

Kodlak returned to child's side and was shocked to see a wolf with silver fur sitting by the bed, licking the girl's hand tenderly. He had no idea how the wolf could come into city unseen, even-more so, how it could enter the halls of Jorrvaskr without anybody noticing.

He approached the bed where the child slept, the wolf raised its eyes on him, revealing sharp fangs and started to growl threateningly as if protecting the sleeping kid. Kodlak slowly raised his hands, speaking softly to the wolf, promising he will not harm the girl. The beast looked at him with its wise eyes and sniffed the air before it finally stopped growling and let the man approach, but kept its eyes on him, supervising every movement.

It took a week before the girl was strong enough to get out of the bed; the wolf remained at her side all the time,letting only Kodlak and Tilma close to her.

Kodlak tried to get information regarding her parents out of the girl and found she doesn't know how to speak the language of people as she responded with growls, barks and howling, acting more like a wolf herself than human that she was.

Kodlak figured that Inghean, as he named her, was a Nord. Her skin was fair and her eyes white-blue like the ice in Skyrim; her hair were peculiar, a strange cold blue sparks amidst the ebony black, not a feat of typical Nord. At first, he thought she could be a werewolf herself, but she was not, she was just a child of the wilds.

It took two years for him to teach the girl human language, another one to teach her how to read and write, but sometimes, when her anger sparked she still resorted to growls and bites. At time of full moon, they usually found her sleep-walking and howling, with a silver wolf beside her side at all times.

Years passed swiftly, and Inghean grew from a wild child into a skinny young woman. She still had some of her wild nature in herself, but it rarely manifested, usually only when Farkas and Vilkas, the twins whom Kodlak took into his care five years before he found Inghean, teased her and pulled her hair. Otherwise, she was well mannered, educated young lady.

She liked to sit on the city wall and observe the boys sparring, carefully following each move they made, memorizing it.

When she was thirteen, perhaps fourteen, she wanted to learn of the way of the sword herself. She jumped from the wall and marched straight to the weapon rack, grabbing the largest and heaviest two-handed sword she could. She tried to lift it up, but it was too heavy for her fragile frame and dropped to the ground with loud sound. Everybody laughed at her and she ran shamed, straight to Kodlak, her eyes filled with tears. Kodlak acted like a father would, calming her down, drying her tears. He told her that perhaps it would be better if she leaves swordplay to boys and learns to wield a bow.

She did as he advised, but reluctantly so. She learned fast to use the bow, and her hands became stronger for it, but her fingers longed to hold a sword nevertheless. She however, never again tried to take a sword in her hand during the day, but at nights, when all slept, she sneaked out to the training ground and trained with short swords, mimicking the moves she seen boys use during the day.

At the age of seventeen, she asked if she could become full pledged member of The Companions. Kodlak patronizingly patted her shoulder, telling her that perhaps one day she could. She was disappointed and felt jealous of Farkas and Vilkas who were introduced into the order a day later.

A year later she announced that she was leaving. She was always curious about who her parents were and felt disappointed that Kodlak couldn't tell her anything about them. He was reluctant to let her go, but she insisted. She promised to return one day, when she uncovers the mystery of her childhood.

Farkas was almost crying when she told him she was leaving. He teased her everyday, but they grew close to each-other. She considered him as her big bad brother, and he looked at her like on little sister, even if he had a very real twin brother. When Vilkas studied history, Farkas would search for Inghean. They ran out of town, played hide and seek in the farms surrounding it, swam in the river and cached butterflies. Of course, none of others living in Jorrvaskr knew what they were doing, Inghean kept their secret, not wishing to tarnish the reputation of the growing up boy with such...childish... activities.

Vilkas was angry at her when she told him, she would be gone next day. He shouted at the poor girl, telling her she is being silly, how the world outside is too dangerous for someone like her -a weak little girl who cannot lift a sword - and mocked her. They never became close as she did with Farkas. The boy's broodiness and scowling turning her away, and she found more than often simply infuriated by him.

Aela, few years older than her and already a full pledged companion, rising in their ranks swiftly, just nodded her understanding and wished her luck. Inghean and Aela sometimes hunt together and talked about boys, especially Vilkas, for whom Aela wisely said he will come around in time. Inghean didn't believed her and just puffed her annoyance with the boy.

Skjor gave Inghean advices that would help her on her way and made her promise that she would return one day. Tilma cried rivers of tears as she said her goodbye.

Inghean then travelled all over Skyrim, searching for the clues who her mother and father would be. She even set foot into Cyrodiil, thinking that perhaps her father would be of the Imperial race, since her hair was black. She spent teen years searching, her wolf Silvershanks following her everywhere, she discovered nothing. She considered returning to Whiterun years ago, but couldn't bring herself to do so and just kept travelling, living from day to day, without any goal in mind.

As the years passed and she grow up; she became stronger, perfectly able to wield two-handed swords, heavy axes and hammers. She joined a mercenary band, honing her fighting skills, evolving from shabby girl into female warrior that could take on the strongest of men.

She was satisfied with her life, mostly; however there were dreams that plagued her every night. She dreamt of dragons over Skyrim; she dreamed of werewolves killed by warriors carrying silver weapons; she dreamed of Whiterun and of Jorrvaskr, she dreamt of Koldlak's ashen face calling her back, she dreamt...

It was time that she returns.

Next morning Inghean set her foot on the road that would lead her to Whiterun, Silvershanks faithfully tailing her.

On her way, she had a little brawl with Khajit that tried to sell her Skooma. She would rather die than have a taste of the drug. Inghean briefly considered letting go of the Khajit, but she decided just to end its miserable existence preventing him to lure people into trying his goods. She destroyed the bottles containing the offending liquid and looted the body of its valuables. At a later time, she would donate it all to the temple as a charity, she remembered Danica running a charity program for families of those who were addicted to Skooma.

Inghean was near Whiterun when she noticed two females battling a Mammoth. Without hesitation, she unsheathed her long sword and charged in, in order to help. It was a hard and bloody battle. One of the females shot arrows at the beast, while the other one was slamming its shield at it with all the strength she could muster. Inghean knew, that without her help, the females would likely die.

Her powerful swings cut into with fur covered skin of the giant animal. She swung time and again, always at precisely the same spot until the flesh gave away and showed white bone underneath. With another swing, the bone shattered and the beast kneel down, not being able to stay on its legs any-more, but it kept fighting swinging its sharp heavy tusk at them. Inghean moved to the side, swinging at Mammoth's neck while the woman with shield did the same on the other side of the beast. The archer kept raining arrows, masterfully missing both fighters, hitting only the best. Silvershank was sinking its fangs into mammoth's tail.

At long last, the mammoth died. The two women with swords were covered with blood from head to toe, the archer-lady was spotless and smirking at them as they were catching breath.

"It was good that you decided to help us," the archer said to Inghean.

"We could do it alone," the one with a shield answered angrily.

"You will have to learn never to turn away help when needed, Njada," the archer scorned.

"You are welcome," Inghean simply said, wiping her bloodied hands in the grass ignoring scowling Njada.

"You should come to Jorrvaskr with us and join The Companions. We would have use of someone like you," the archer said.

"The Companions?" Inghean raised her eyebrow and gave the archer proper look. Her face was cowered with war-paint, but there was something familiar about her.

"Yes, The Companions," the archer laughed. "I am Aela, and one of them."

"Aela?" Inghean gasped.

"Yes..." Aela said but then added her own gasp to the conversation as she had a good look at Inghean. "By Hircine! Inghean... is that you?" she sounded surprised.

"One and only," Inghean smirked. "It is good to see you again, Aela."

"The boys will be so happy to see you again!" Aela said while giving her a bear hug that Inghean merrily returned. Aela pushed away: "You are coming back, right?" she asked with hope and suspicion.

"Indeed I am," Inghean smiled.

"We have all missed you," Aela smiled, but then her eyes grew dark: "Why didn't you write?"

"I... well..." Inghean tried to find an excuse, but couldn't get a grip on any. She wanted to write but she simply... did not.

"Never-mind that now, lets go home!" Aela exclaimed, throwing hand over Inghean's shoulder and almost forced her into moving.

Aela and Inghean spoke happily, speaking of their lives in the time they didn't see each-other. Njada followed them with lowered head, annoyed by the closeness the other two exhibited, all the time Silvershanks gazing at the broody female suspiciously.

Inghean was returning home.