All is Revealed

They were upon us before we realised we were under attack.  We had just despatched a cave troll, encountered suddenly as we travelled in the hills along the Darkwater River near Lost Knife Hideout.  Our first indication that we could not yet relax were screams from the horses, which had fled as we came upon the troll just as we rounded a bend in the road.  Luckily for the horses, the werewolf skinwalkers and a couple of their wolf companions were intent on attacking us, and so our mounts merely bolted farther away as we turned toward the sound of their terror.

Ere I realised what was betiding I had taken on beast form.  I assume it was part instinct, part outrage that my so-called 'brethren' would dare attack me, let alone in company with my friends; and so I would show them just what they had taken on.  Yet, perhaps they realised they had made a mistake, for as we slew the wolves and one of the skinwalkers immediately, the remaining two fled back across the river.  I was in no mood to let them be, although, since my companions were not able to ford the fast-flowing course as quickly as I was in beast form, I caught and tore apart one and then the other before my friends were able to cross.  It was only then that, even as a beast, I dimly realised what I had done.

Up into the surrounding hills I fled, lest I lose control or my compatriots, not recognising me, attacked.  As I could not feed on the skinwalkers or the wolves – or, since doing so would not serve me well – and I was not fortunate enow to stumble upon any corpses, I was thus unable to maintain beast form for long.  Therefore, once more I soon found myself naked and unarmed, as well as wounded, this time across a significant river from my party.

It need be said here that it is nigh impossible to 'normally' shape change whilst clothed, let alone in armour; clothing will inevitably be shredded as it is suddenly outgrown, and to do so in full armour would be near suicidal, as most armour will, of course, not 'shred'.  Even if it did, it would soon become expensive to keep replacing.  Aela warned me of this on that first night, and so I have since ensured that I am completely unencumbered prior to a hunt.  This time, to be sure, I had had no time for any such planning.  Thus, I can only attribute my sudden change to the Ring of Hircine I had acquired in a prior quest to kill a werewolf named Sinding, whom, in beast form, killed a little girl and escaped custody for the crime in Falkreath.

I will not relate that tale, except to say that I chose to spare Sinding and defy the deity Hircine – even though the Father of Manbeasts told me I served him regardless, and bade me keep his ring.  In any case, it allows one to take beast form more than once per day, and so it somehow must allow one to shift out of one's accoutrements at the same time.  Regrettably, it does not do the reverse.  Thus, all I recall is that when I slunk back into the camp that Lydia and Vilja had set up on near our recent battle – doubtless not knowing whence I had gone and when I should return – my two companions had gathered up my shed belongings, intact, and stowed them for me.

It was well after dark when I returned.  I had been obliged to turn to my magic once again to heal, keep from freezing, and to find my way in the night, not to mention cross the river, which I was able to do using the whirlwind sprint Shout, which moves one in the blink of an eye several man-spans.  It cannot compensate for steep terrain, but otherwise it will move one over quite significant gaps or obstacles, such as traps.  Or rivers.

Returning to my tale, then, I do not believe that either Lydia or Vilja slumbered as I crept, shivering, into the bedroll they had set out for me in our tent, but I would be unable to avoid their questions – verbal or otherwise – beyond morning, I knew.  Thus, somewhat past dawn the next day, I told them I would speak with them both.

Amid the purple morning mists, we sat round the campfire for a stretched silence, aught but its occasional crackle and the rustle of the nearby river to intrude upon the uncomfortable quietude.

"I am a werewolf," I finally admitted, although I did not suppose it came as any great shock.

Vilja, holding herself stiffly, began to sob, eyes downcast at her boots shuffling nervously in the brown grass.  Lydia regarded me warily.

"I… I do not know what more to say," I added lamely.

"But, w-why?" Vilja cried.  "H-How did this happen?"

"I… did it myself."

"But… why?" the blonde repeated.  "Why would you do something like this – become a… a m-monster?"

"'Monster'?" I countered sharply.  "See you a monster before you now?"

"Well, not now, no.  But—"

"I am stronger, faster…  I can stay up and… run all night.  I… I feel more alive, like I can do anything."

"Anything but sleep and eat like a normal person," Vilja countered.

"Normal?  What is 'normal'?"  I did not know why I was so defensive – or perhaps I did.

Choking back more sobs, the Nord girl shook her head.  "No…  Shrelle, you cannot possibly like what you are – what you have become."

"Why not?  What would you know about it?"

"I'll make you a cure diseases potion," she offered.

"No.  It will not work."  That was true, but I had no wish to admit that I did not want a cure.

She looked at me helplessly; something twisted inside me.  "Lydia, please," she entreated the darker Nord.  "Help me."

"I...  It is not my place."

"Yet you have an opinion," I conjectured.

"Yes, my thane."

  "I bid you give it, then."

  "I… dare not, my thane."

  "Why not?  I release you from my service, if that will help."

  She rose.  "My thane, I am at your service, to release as you please.  If you dismiss me now, I'll await you at your home in Whiterun.  Should you wish still to release me upon your return, that is your right."

  Vilja stood, put a hand on the bigger girl's steel-clad arm.  "No, Lydia.  Don't go.  Don't make her leave, Shrelle."

  I knew enow about Nordic honour that the stigma of dismissal from a thane's service would be almost unbearable for a housecarl, and I would wish that on no one.  Besides, as Vilja observed regularly, I was 'quite fond of Lydia'.

  "I do not give you leave to go, Lydia.  Please sit.  I would have you thoughts on the matter."

  "I am at your service, my thane."

  "W-Would anyone like a drink?" Vilja interposed.  "I'm quite thirsty."  She received no response.

  Lydia, clearing her throat, sat squarely upon the log.  She appeared to have difficulty swallowing, yet looked at me directly.  "I cannot imagine that my thane truly enjoys eating people."

  I all at once felt flushed; my heart raced as a herd of mammoths thundered between my ears.  I needs must admit as well that my female parts twitched, demanded contact – and, I concede, it had nothing to do with present company.  It took great effort to remain motionless.  "I do not enjoy it, exactly," I dissembled.  "I…  It is what I must do to heal… to live.  And only their hearts," I added, as if that would make the fact more palatable.

Vilja seized upon it: "Oh, is that all, then?  Well, that makes it all right, of course."  She swallowed; appeared to be holding back more than tears.

I had no answer; I could barely look at her.

"You still have not told us why," she insisted.

"Yes, I did."

"Oh, it's so you can…so you can mate all day and night with some tavern wore?"

Precious Vilja; she could not even swear effectually.

"The word you want is whore, dear, or perhaps slattern, strumpet, or harlot.  And what we did was tumble – fornicate, rut, or copulate.  Fuck, even. Or perhaps even 'make love'."

"No.  It sound to me like mating.  There is nothing loving about it."

I sprang to my feet.  "How would you know?"  The beast was nearly upon me.

The other girls must have seen it, as Vilja gasped, eyes flying wide as she fell back off the log; the snick! of steel clearing leather as Lydia interposed herself between us.

"My thane!  I needs must remind you that you yourself assigned me to protect Vilja, and you haven't released me from that geas."  As I wrapped both hands around her throat – noting with some horror that my digits were elongating and sprouting fur – I met my housecarl's gaze; it held no fear, only regret and… resignation, perhaps?

I turned, bolted up the path; this time I noted my accoutrements sloughing away as my beast form came upon me in the brightening daylight.  I was soon loping on all fours, racing through the rough scrub as I tore at any passing forest creature; a rabbit, now a fox; I cared for nothing but the rage!  I had to kill… something.