The Blood Of The Wolf

Chapter Five

        Vilkas groaned and rolled over in an attempt to find the effort to fully wake up. He reluctantly opened his eyes and sat up. The fire had died down to embers and the sun was just beginning to peek over the mountains. Vilkas brushed his hair from his face and looked up to see Maris pull her tunic off and pick the rest of her cloths up off the floor. Vilkas immediately looked away and covered his face with one hand.

“What are you doing this time?” He growled. Maris folded her cloths and placed them neatly by her satchel.

“I'm going to bathe in the lake before it gets too bright.” Maris said simply.

“Do we have time for that?” Vilkas sighed.

“You were the one that sat next to me.” She hissed. “Smelling of mutt may work for you but I would rather not.”

She turned and went over to the lake. Vilkas sat up and groaned. He pulled off his shirt, he might as well wile he was waiting, at least then Maris couldn't hold it against him. The water was cold but refreshing on his skin. He looked over to Maris who was turned away from him. She put her head beneath the water fall and her long white hair fell into her face, leaving her shoulders bare. It was astonishing how pale she was. She was completely unblemished, save the scars on her shoulders and fresh wounds on her wrists. Did she not remember where those scars had come from...?

“Prying eyes will cast you in bother.” Maris sneered, without even glancing at him.

“Don't flatter your self.” Vilkas growled, turning away to wash his face.

“Hound breath.” Maris hissed.

“Nightwalker.” Vilkas snarled.

        Maris patted Shadowmere on the nose and held out the bucket of oats for her wile Vilkas was adjusting the saddle on his horse. Maris watched him from behind her horse. It was still weird to see Vilkas in regular clothing. Since the day they'd met, he had always worn the heavy wolf armour of the companions. He still wore the dark war paint around his eyes that he usually did. Why did he ask her about it?It must have had some relevance but she couldn't possibly see it. It seemed there was allot about Vilkas that she didn't know. It seemed that Vilkas knew more about her then anyone else did. Not that he knew allot, still It sent a shiver down her spine.

“C'mon, we'd better move out.” Vilkas sighed, pulling himself up into his saddle. Maris mentally shook herself out of her thoughts and did the same. She looked up at the sun that had almost completely risen. She pulled her cloak about her and raised the hood. She hated Skyrim's summers.

        After riding for a few hours with nothing but arguments and snide comments, Maris spoke out. “...So... What are you so afraid of?” she asked.

“What?” Vilkas spluttered.

“If everyone has a fear, what's yours?” She said simply.

Vilkas watched the cobblestone path pass beneath him as he thought of how to reply.

“Hurting... People.” Vilkas muttered, looking down. Maris raised an eyebrow and tipped her head to one side.

“You? You could never hurt someone...” Maris mumbled. “At least... Innocent people.”

“I already have.” Vilkas sighed. “My wolf got the better of me... and I hurt someone I really really cared deeply for.”

“What happened?” Maris asked, her blue eyes soft and sad.

“I was young and couldn’t control the wolf... She told me she was leaving Skyrim. I got angry and ran away but she followed. I transformed and still she stayed with me... I attacked her... and I hurt her and I won't forgive myself for that... She left the next day. I don't know where she went and I don't know where she is now... I thought I’d found her but I don't know any more...” He said, keeping his head low.

“Well... That wasn't you... It was the wolf... and I'm taking that away from you... So you don't have to be scared of that any more.” Maris said. Vilkas' eyes fell upon Maris' wrists.

“But that won't take away what’s already been done...” He muttered. He pulled at his reins and pulled to the front. Maris watched him go. The amount of innocent people she'd killed and maimed and tortured and it didn't effect her in the slightest. That was probably because Vilkas had a heart. He actually had empathy and a conscience. If Maris had those, she wouldn't have made it as far as she had.

        Suddenly, Vilkas lifted his head as if he were listening for something. He pulled at the reins of his horse and came to a stop.

“There's someone...AH!” Suddenly, an arrow flew through the air, hitting Vilkas and knocking him off of his horse. Maris jumped down from Shadowmere and drew her scimitar. A man with a bow emerged from the shadow, a wide smile showing through the shadow of his hood.

“All right, hand over all the gold you got and I’ll let you live.” He smirked. It was then that Maris noticed the thieves guild emblem on his cloak clasp. She steadied herself and scowled.

“Do you not know who I am?” She said calmly.

The thief seemed slightly knocked by this unexpected reaction. “Um... No...” He muttered, his smiled disappearing. She pulled her hood down to show her glowing violate eyes.

“I wouldn't expect worms like you to know what death looks like but I assure you you are looking it directly in the eyes.” She said coldly. The man stumbled back.

“By the nines! It's you! You're the purple eyed nightingale!... I... I...” He whimpered.

“So, what was it that you wanted?” She asked. The thief turned on his heels and ran. Maris watched him to the point he disappeared into the trees.

        She turned and ran around the horses to where Vilkas was sat, clutching his shoulder. A bloodied arrow lay at his side and his hands and cloths were covered in the gore. She turned away for a moment at the sight of the blood and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they had darkened to the usual blue. She knelt at Vilkas' side and brushed her hair from her face.

“Let me see.” She exclaimed, reaching her hand out. Vilkas took his hand away and winced, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his knuckles. It was deep and showed no signs that the blood was stopping. She took Vilkas' hands and pressed them against it. She put her hands over them and closed her eyes. They began to glow faintly.

Vilkas opened his eyes and looked down at them. “No, I don't trust magic. I'll be fine.” He grunted.

“You'll bleed out!” Maris exclaimed.

“I don't trust magic.” Vilkas growled.

“Do you trust me?” Maris asked looking deeply into his eyes. She fully expected him to come right out and say 'no'. Instead he bowed his head.

“Fine...” He sighed. Maris' hands began to glow brighter and the light sunk through Vilkas' hands and into the wound. He winced as the magic got to work.

Maris pulled away and smiled.

“She, that wasn't too bad.” She said.

“Thank you.” Vilkas mumbled, rubbing the tender skin where the wound was. He looked at Maris' hands. They were covered in blood. It seemed unnaturally red against her pale skin.

“Well, we should probably get going if we are going to make it to fort Dunstad by nightfall. I don't like sleeping outdoors.” She said, standing up. She put out her hand to help him. He swatted it away and stumbled to his feet. Maris rolled her eyes.

“Are you all right to ride or do you want me to tether your horse to Shadowmere?” She asked.

“I'll be fine,” Vilkas said, revolving his shoulder.

         They climbed up onto their mounts and set off again. Vilkas watched Maris from the corner of his eye. Where did she learn magic? And what in oblivion was a nightingale? Why did that thief recognize her? He always knew that Maris was an secretive person but he couldn't help wonder who exactly she was...