Rays of orange light crossed over the rocky scrub of the Eastmarch tundra. Long tendrils of steam curled eagerly up into the air from the open maws of every volcanic vent and fissure. All around pools of mineral water bubbled, boiling water splashing against the crusty yellow stones. Clouds gathered above, slowly obscuring the two moons of Nirn, both full in all their glory. Three Nords –two adults and one child- picked their way through the muddy gullies towards the only grove of pines southwest of Kynesgrove.
Small Dragon’s Tongue shrubs dotted the misty grove; steam clung to the trees like long wisps of silken clothing, hiding most of the land from sight. Grass grew more easily here, giving the steps of the three Nords a softer sound as they moved under the shadows of the coarse old pines. They set up camp near the center of the grove; it was the only sheltered spot and the Nords needed to rest. It looked like it was going to rain during the night. Not one of the Nords wished to spend the night wet and shivering, unable to get dry or warm.
As the two adults worked to set up their tent, their child sprawled out in the green-brown grass to play with her doll. It was a ragged little thing, passed down over the years –forty, to be precise- from mother to child; the eyes –two glass orbs glued into the face- had fallen out and been replaced and uncountable number of times. Most of the doll’s hair was gone and it had many patches on its little body and clothes. The Nord child still loved it, though, and she was happy to play with it.
The girl’s mother, Aelys the Fleet, smiled over the hide she was laying onto the tent’s roughly hewn wooden frame; she remembered playing with that doll as a child and it brought her joy to see her own daughter enjoying it. Svenjo Black-Talon, the girl’s father, shared that joy. He had his own toy –and old dragon, carved from the wood of an old oak from Cyrodiil- that had been passed from father to son in the same manner as the doll. Soon, that toy would change hands; Aelys was with child and she was certain it was a boy.
For that reason, it was essential that the two older Nords get as many hunts in as possible. They only had another six or so months until Aelys’ pregnancy advanced to the stage where she could no longer travel. When that point arrived, Svenjo refused to leave the side of his wife; he had missed the birth of little Narji and he had absolutely no intention of missing the birth of his second child.
But as the sun set on that spring evening, something was concerning the black-haired lanky Nord. As he helped his wife build their fire, he was careful to pay close attention to his surroundings; things were unnaturally quiet. No birds could be heard chirping from their perches in the trees. No small animals stirred in the undergrowth… Something was wrong. But what? What could cause the animals to flee?
After the family ate a meal of fire roasted rabbit and potatoes, Svenjo took the time to voice his concerns to his wife, “Aelys… Do you think things seem too quiet? Listen. There aren’t any birds. No small animals are stirring in the grass. We haven’t seen any deer or elk all day.”
“I’ve noticed. There’s probably a pack of wolves in the area. Or a few Sabre Cats,” she paused, one hand resting idly on her belly, only just beginning to swell with the child within, “On second thought… It can’t be wolves. There hasn’t been any howling. It must be the Sabre Cats. This region is full of them. Either way, we’re not going to be able to catch anything here.”
“Well, you’re right about that. I’d say we’re better off going into the Rift. There are a lot of bears there, but the aspen woods are a haven for our prey. People pay good money for plump deer from the Fall Forest. They roast quite well… All the extra fat lends the meat flavor.”
Aelys chuckled and playfully cuffed her husband’s shoulder, “Oh, hush! You’re making me hungry. Hm. Or-“
The Nord woman was cut off by a sudden screech from nearby. Aelys and Svenjo watched their daughter hopping around the camp; she flapped her arms as if they were wings. Both Nords shared a laugh at how ridiculous she looked.
“Looks like Narji is playing dragon again,” Svenjo snorted, his emerald green eyes twinkling with amusement as they followed his daughter around, “Sometimes I wonder if she should have the dragon. She always seems to have these fantasies… I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“All kids play, Svenjo. Let Narji have her fun… But perhaps now isn’t the best time. It’s getting dark.”
Svenjo knew she was right; their fire was casting the only light in the grove. The last of the sun’s orange rays had dipped below the mountains and both moons were finally hidden by dark clouds, racing across the sky from some ferocious wind high above. Small drops of rain could be heard bouncing off the trees; soon, things would become slippery in the grove. It was time for bed.
“Narji,” Svenjo called out. The little girl froze, her raven black hair stuck to her face. She blew it out of the way and lowered her arms. Narji came forward when her father beckoned, “Play time is over. It’s time for bed. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Yes, papa.”
Svenjo settled into the right side of the tent; his wife positioned herself beside him, her auburn hair resting on his shoulder. Little Narji curled up beside her mother. She was still panting slightly from her hopping and flapping, but Svenjo knew she slept like a log after a good play. Their fire soon died down, eliminating the last light in the grove. The only light came from the occasional Torchbug, flicking in the denser patches of undergrowth. Two of the Nords were asleep soon enough… Only little Narji remained awake.
Her mind was not on flying, or dragons, or even her parents. The moment the fire had gone out, darkness had crept over the grove. Not the darkness of night, but a shadow of something else; Narji felt as though something was out there, stalking the inky gloom of that stormy night. It wasn’t a pack of wolves, but neither was it a Sabre Cat. There was something malevolent out there… Something evil. Wolves and Sabre Cats were not evil.
The little Nord cuddled her doll and looked pointlessly out into the darkness. A creature howled in the distance; the sound was faint, but Narji could still hear it clearly enough, even over the snoring of her parents and the relentless hiss of steam from the volcanic vents. Even she –a child of six years- could tell that the howl wasn’t natural. It had the tone of a wolf… A giant wolf. Narji’s blood ran cold.
Each drop of rain striking a branch sounded like rocks bouncing down cliffs to little Narji’s ears. More howls came from the distance and Narji was nearly paralyzed by fear. Her heart thundered in her ears as she pressed herself closer to her sleeping mother in an attempt to calm herself; it wasn’t enough, so Narji rested her head upon her mother’s breast. She listened to the older woman’s heart beating and it soothed the girl. Narji soon forgot every other sound. When she fell asleep, she dreamed of her little brother; he would be a great warrior one day… She could only hope to match his skill one day, if she chose that path. Being a hunter was fun, but she wanted to try other things.
It was around midnight when little Narji awakened. A branch cracked nearby and the shock made the girl jump. The rain had stopped; the sound of three Nords breathing was almost loud enough to compete with the hissing of steam. Narji –unable to see in the dark- listened as closely as she could to the sounds of the tundra. The howls she had heard a few hours before had fallen silent. Now, the only thing Narji could hear was the soft crunch of grass as something very large moved nearby.
Narji debated waking her parents, but she didn’t wish to disturb them; both of them were sleeping peacefully. For all Narji knew, the noises could be from a deer or something nearby. Although… The crunch of grass didn’t sound like hoof beats; if it was an animal with hooves, it would be much quieter. This thing was big and had paws. A Sabre Cat? Well… Narji hoped it would leave. She was getting tired and didn’t have the will to wake her parents.
The little girl was half asleep when the enormous head poked into the tent. Her eyes opened wide in wonder and terror as she glimpsed two golden eyes, glowing like two small suns in the darkness. They were the eyes of a wolf, but… Each orb was the size of one of Narji’s fists. Even so, then had something wolf eyes did not; this creature was sentient, but it was far from human. Its eyes held no trace of mercy, compassion, or even pity. They were cold. In those eyes, little Narji saw only the relentless urge to hunt… To feed on human flesh. The tiny girl shrieked.
Her scream immediately roused both of her parents. The marauding beast growled and withdrew from the tent, ripping the hides away and pulling the frame out of the ground in the process. Svenjo and Aelys instantaneously leaped to their feet; Aelys had her hunting bow and Svenjo had his steel dagger. Narji, gripped by a fear unlike anything she had ever felt before, grabbed ono f their hunting knives and ducked behind a rock. She clutched helplessly at the doll; heart in her throat, Narji could only watch as the shadowy figures of her parents confronted a truly massive werewolf. The beast was at least eight feet tall –likely bigger than that- and as wide as a minimum of three people… Svenjo and Aelys both looked insignificant compared to the monster. Narji felt absolutely miniscule.
The clouds parted and revealed the two full moons. Light flooded the grove and revealed the colors of the werewolf’s fur. It was mostly grey, but its head was black and there were shots of brown running along its limbs. Aelys and Svenjo were both paler than ice in face of the monster. What could they, two lightly built Nords with only a dagger and a bow, do against such a beast? It was hopeless… Even Narji could see that.
Aelys notched an arrow to her bow and fired. The arrow –a finely crafted steel arrow from the Windhelm blacksmith- planted itself firmly in the werewolf’s shoulder. It roared –the beast sounded like a cross between an oversized troll and a wolf- and charged; before she could react, the werewolf swung the back of one of its gigantic hands into her and sent the poor woman flying. She went more than ten feet backwards. When she impacted a rock, a sickening snap was heard across the grove. Aelys, her spine and limbs twisted and broken, went limp immediately. Svenjo screamed.
What he did was foolish. Dagger in hand, Svenjo stood his ground as the werewolf rushed forward; he could not adequately defend himself. Claws met flesh and the sound of tearing fabric sliced like a blade through the air. The dagger fell from Svenjo’s hand just as he fell to his knees, warm innards spilling onto the ground in front of him. His blood stained the ground around him and the man stared at his intestines, not quite comprehending what had just happened. He looked up at the werewolf. It bared its fangs, gleaming white in the moonlight, and plowed the dying Svenjo to the ground. Hot saliva dripped onto the man’s gullet as the werewolf ripped the flesh away. The remainder of Svenjo’s blood burst out of wound with every last beat of his heart. Not wanting to waste any blood, the werewolf lapped up the blood that pooled in the ruin of the man’s throat.
Once the blood was gone, the werewolf bit into the dead man’s chest and pulled his ribs away in one motion, the gut-wrenching cracking sound nearly making Narji vomit. It pushed past the lungs and yanked at the man’s heart; the werewolf swallowed it whole. Sniffing, the beast turned to face Aelys. She opened her eyes –clouded with pain and a fear beyond the understanding of Narji- and looked past the werewolf to where Narji was crouching.
“Narji… Run…”
She couldn’t. Narji could only watch as the werewolf sniffed at her mother’s belly, snarled, and dug its claws in. Aelys screamed… Not from pain (as she couldn’t feel anything below her chest), but from the combined losses of her husband, her unborn son, and her own life. The sound angered the werewolf and it grasped Aelys’ head. With one brutal twist, it broke her neck. It then fed on her heart as it had with Svenjo; the organ was still twitching as the werewolf swallowed it.
It was strange… Not long ago, Narji had been listening to that. She had known what that heart had sounded like. And… She knew that she would now never have a brother. The little girl wanted to cry, but no tears were coming; she knew she had to flee… Just as her mother had said. There was no time to cry.
Narji hopped away from the rock and ran. Behind her, she heard the monster growl, then bark. Heavy footsteps pounded towards her like her heart pounded in her ears; there was no chance that she would be able to outrun the beast. Knife in hand, Narji turned to make her last stand. She believed she was going to die… After witnessing the deaths of her entire family, Narji would have welcomed any end to the nightmare.
The two golden orbs locked onto the little child. Great strands of drool swung back and forth under the werewolf’s jowls. Its nostrils flared as it sniffed at Narji; she quivered in front of it, blood nearly frozen in fright. The beast raised its claws –at least six inches long and as sharp as a good blade- and raked them across little Narji’s face. She screamed in agony as the claws ripped into flesh and bit into bone, starting on the left side of her head and running down to her right jaw. Hot blood ran down her face; it poured off of her jaw in little waterfalls of blood and soaked her clothes. Her blood flew through the air in glistening specks as the impact of the werewolf’s claws drove her to the ground. Narji barely held onto the knife… But it was all she needed.
Furiously blinking the blood from her eyes, Narji spotted the werewolf opening its jaws and beginning its forward lunge. The little Nord –not strong enough or big enough to bring down a large werewolf on her own- managed to use the beast’s own momentum to her advantage. She lifted the hunting knife and held it out, inside the monster’s open maw. It drove the knife into its own mouth; the blade went deep into the werewolf’s brain, severing major blood vessels and damaging the brain itself. The force of the blow made something in Narji’s arm crack, but she held onto the knife. There was no way she was letting go.
With one last howl, the werewolf bounded away from the child, blood flying from the frothing saliva in its mouth. It shook its head violently, chunks of blood clots falling away, to try and clear its airways. The beast coughed and sputtered, but nothing could be done. IT had sealed its own fate… After several seconds, the werewolf collapsed and didn’t move again.
Narji was numb. She was aware that she was bleeding heavily, but it didn’t matter… Her parents were dead. Her unborn brother never had a chance to exist. She had lost everything. Even her childhood… After surviving an attack like that, how could she ever hope to be a child again? She had seen things most adults never did.
She couldn’t face it. With her doll in her left hand and the knife in her right, she stood from the spot where she fell and began walking towards the river. Narji didn’t know why she was heading in that direction, but her feet insisted upon carrying her there. Despite all the pain she was in, she knew that leaving was her only hope. She would die if she didn’t find help soon.
But what was there to live for?
]. Maybe you could have treated the time between the hermit's death and her rescue as a flashback, i.e. fast forward to where the Companion finds her and have her tell them what happened inbetween - that way you'd have an internal reason to keep it short, because she wouldn't want to dwell on the details, and telling it in her voice might make it a little more interesting to write. But nevermind, it's done now, let's move on.
Some little scene like that, a snapshot of her struggle for survival, could have made a good story and maybe served better as a transition from her flight from the shack to her rescue than a mere summary.
(I usually copypaste everything to avoid losing text that way but forgot to do so this time.) There's no way I'm going to retype all that from memory, so unfortunately you'll have to make do with the short version.
It's a most endearing feature. But please, don't let her make the same mistake as Lieth and marry another Companion - pretty please? *doggyeyes* (Speaking of Lieth, today I read the story where she awakes just outside Riften after a furry night butt-naked except for a dressing of dried blood and then comes home to quarrel with Vilkas about eating a guard. Adorable!
