2nd of Mid-Year, 4E 203
For the first time in many, many years, I slept without a nightmare haunting me. No horrifying images of the Hunting Grounds, no fear of being chased by wolves or other, much more dangerous, predators, no rage towards bandits like the Silver Hand. Instead, my mind was protected by a certain raven-haired battle maiden, warding away all my negative thoughts.
Until my wolf lunged within my breast and jolted me awake.
Deep down, I felt the pull, the drive, the need to get up and chase after her, the mate that my wolf longed for. The beast howled with its desire, and I howled along with it. I had to stay in control of this creature. If I gave in, gods only knew what unspeakable damage I could cause. Sweat dampening my brow, I curled into a tight ball and fought the hardest fight I had ever fought.
At some point, Farkas had burst into my room and held me to my bed. He kept me anchored, gave me something to hold onto when the beast began to overwhelm me. My fingernails turned to claws, my teeth pointed into sharp fangs, and a growl deep within my throat escaped me. I was edging the line between man and animal, and it took everything I had to stay in control.
After an eternity, the beast gave up, settling into the dark corner I often beat it into. My body returned to normal, and Farkas let go of me. I sat up, rubbing my bare chest, trying to get my breathing back under control.
As my beast relinquished me, the sound of a wolf's howling pierced through the halls, and I shuddered. That was Ylva. It could not be anyone else.
"Thank the gods all the whelps were too drunk to hear any of that," said Farkas as he gripped my shoulder. "Are you all right?"
"Something's happened to Ylva," I panted. Red streaks marred my chest, where my claws had scraped through flesh in an effort to let the beast free. I ignored the sting of sweat dripping into the wounds and got off my bed. I donned a thin tunic and my boots before leaving my room, heading for the training yard. Farkas trailed on my heels.
"How do you know something happened to Ylva?"
"I just do. Something's... something's not right."
The cool night air greeted us when we stepped outside. All seemed normal; the stars twinkled overhead, the moons gave off their light, and in the west, blue and green aurora danced like waves beating against the sea shore.
But I knew that this night was far from normal.
"Look," said Farkas, drawing my attention away from the sky and to a pile of cloth in the middle of the training yard.
I raced to it, scooping up a shredded tunic and holding it to my nose. It smelled like her. She had been here.
"I recognize that," said Farkas, standing at my side. "It belonged to Ylva. What do you think happened to her?"
"Her wolf took over." I pinched the bridge of my nose, clinging to the ruined shirt and hanging my head. "She couldn't fight any longer."
Beside me, Farkas shook his head. "She's only transformed a handful of times. It's a miracle this didn't happen sooner."
"Having the soul of a dragon perhaps helped her resist the call, but even the Dragonborn can't fight Hircine forever." Scooping up the rest of the tattered clothing, I bundled the fabric under my arm and walked back towards Jorrvaskr. "We must go find her."
Farkas jogged to catch up to me, standing at my shoulder again. "What do we have to do?"
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This is Our Home: A Collection of Skyrim Short Stories
FanfictionI highly recommend you read my completed Skyrim works before reading this book. Sometimes, authors have ideas that look good in rough drafts, or in early versions of their works, but don't make any sense after they get done polishing up the story th...
